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On the set of Chef & My fridge chaos are usual here. Timers beeped, knives struck rhythmically against boards, and producers whispered through headsets. In the center of the storm stood Kim Poong—deliberately disruptive, loudly brilliant, and impossible to ignore.
While Poong traded jabs with Choi Hyun Seok across the prep table, Chef Son Jong Won stood in a bubble of calm focus. A new young staff named Minjae was adjusting his microphone, but his hand lingered a second too long at Jong Won’s collarbone.
Jong Won smiled politely. It was a practiced, distant business smile.
Poong’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a dramatic sigh. “Chef Son, if you let him polish you any more, you’ll start reflecting the studio lights!”
The crew erupted in laughter. Minjae withdrew his hand instantly, flushing red. Jong Won shot Poong a look of quiet gratitude—a look most people would have missed.
Poong did not miss it.
⸻
The Concern That Grows
It wasn't a single incident; it was a creeping pattern. Minjae was always hovering, finding excuses to touch a shoulder or leaning too deep into Jong Won’s personal space during breaks.
One afternoon in the waiting room, Nam No sat beside Jong Won, watching him scroll silently through his phone.
“Hyung,” Nam No said, his voice dropping low. “That new staff… he’s way too clingy.”
Jong Won offered a faint, tired smile. “He’s young. Just a bit enthusiastic.”
“Enthusiastic is one thing,” Nam No countered. “Clinging is another.”
From the couch, Hyun Seok glanced up from his script. “Poong-hyung noticed it, too. Do you want me to say something to him?”
Jong Won stiffened. “No. Hyung has enough to worry about. I don’t want to be a burden, and honestly, there’s nothing to worry about .”
Hyun Seok watched him for a long moment. “If something makes you uncomfortable, say it, Jong Won. You don’t owe politeness to someone who ignores your boundaries.”
“I’ll handle it,” Jong Won insisted. He always said that.
When Nam No later mentioned the conversation to Poong over coffee, the old guy didn't laugh.
“He said he’ll handle it? That he doesn’t want to burden me?” Poong’s voice was uncharacteristically flat.
“He looked… exhausted, hyung,” Nam No admitted.
That word settled in Poong's chest like thorn.
⸻
The Breaking Point
It happened after filming on a rain-heavy evening.
The crew dispersed quickly, eager to avoid traffic. Poong stayed back longer than usual, chatting with a writer about a potential webtoon idea he would probably never finish. When he finally stepped outside toward the parking lot, he noticed Jong Won’s car still parked.
In the narrow, dim alley behind the studio, a voice rose sharply.
“You keep ignoring me like I don’t exist!”
Poong slowed his pace. Near the damp brick wall, Jong Won stood with his shoulders hunched in tension. Minjae was blocking his path to the street.
“I told you not to contact me privately,” Jong Won said, his voice strained but steady.
“You think you’re too good for me?” Minjae stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Jong Won’s. “You smiled at me. You never pushed me away.”
“I was being polite.”
“Then stop being polite.”
The only sound was the rhythm of rain dripping from a broken gutter.
“You know,” Minjae’s tone turned venomous, “if I tell people you flirted with me first, they’ll believe it. You’re too soft to fight back.”
Poong didn't think. He moved.
“What the hell did you just say?”
Both men spun around. Minjae tried to puff out his chest. “This isn’t your business, Poong-ssi.”
Poong walked until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Jong Won. He didn't look at his friend; his eyes were locked on the new staff. “It became my business the second you threatened him.”
Minjae let out a nervous, jagged laugh. “You’re overreacting—”
Minjae shoved him—perhaps a desperate attempt at intimidation. Poong staggered back half a step, but he came back harder.
He lunged, grabbing Minjae’s jacket and slamming him against the brick wall. The thud echoed in the hollow alley. “You little piece of shit,” Poong hissed.
“Hyung!” Jong Won’s voice cracked.
Minjae swung blindly, his fist catching Poong’s cheekbone with a sickening crack. Poong didn't flinch. He drove Minjae downward, crashing into a stack of wooden crates near the dumpster. They hit the wet pavement in a tangle of limbs and splashing rainwater.
Panic took over Minjae’s bravado as he clawed at Poong’s face, splitting the skin above Poong's eyebrow. Blood began to mingle with the rain.
Poong pinned him, his forearm heavy across Minjae’s collarbone.
“You will not touch him. You will not speak his name,” Poong growled, his voice vibrating with a terrifying coldness. “And if you spread a single rumor, remember I have connections you can't even dream of. You’ll never work in this industry—or any other—again.”
“Stop! Please, stop!” Jong Won shouted, his hands trembling as he grabbed Poong’s shoulders.
His hands were trembling.
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance — not for them, just passing traffic — but the sound snapped Poong back.
He released Minjae abruptly.
Minjae scrambled away, coughing, terrified now. He fled down the alley without another word.
⸻
The Aftermath
Moments later, Hyun Seok’s car headlights cut across the alley entrance. He had returned because he forgot his knife.
He stepped out, took one look at Poong’s bloodied face and Jong Won’s shaking hands, and swore under his breath.
“What happened?”
Jong Won couldn't find his voice. Poong wiped a smear of blood from his mouth. “It’s handled.”
“Handled? You look like you went through a three rounds of boxing?!!,” Hyun Seok snapped.
Nam No arrived minutes later, having been called by Hyun Seok. He froze at the sight.
Jong Won nodded weakly, but his eyes were fixed on Poong.
“You need stitches,” Hyun Seok insisted, reaching for Poong.
Poong nudged him away. “I need a cigarette,” he muttered, walking deeper into the shadows of the alley where the orange glow of the streetlights couldn't reach him.
⸻
The Confrontation
Jong Won followed him. The rain had slowed to a fine, silver mist.
Poong leaned against the cold brick, a cigarette trembling slightly between his bruised knuckles. The cut above his brow dripped slowly. He was still furious but even so, the quietness makes Jong Won most unsettled.
Jong Won approached him slowly. “Hyung, let’s go. Please. You shouldn't smoke, you're hurt...”
Poong didn't look at him. He inhaled deeply, the ember of the cigarette glowing bright in the dark.
Jong Won stepped closer. Then, without warning, he slapped him.
The sound was sharp, like a breaking branch. Poong’s head turned with the impact, more out of shock than pain. Before he could utter a word, Jong Won hug Poong’s from behind, burying his face into the nape of Poong’s neck.
“Why did you do this?” Jong Won’s voice broke into a sob. “Now you’re hurt. Your face... it’s ruined. You’re bleeding because of me.”
Tears soaked through Poong’s damp shirt.
“You think I wanted it to be like this?” Jong Won whispered into his skin. “You think I can’t endure it? I can. I would rather endure a thousand Minjaes than see you like this.”
Poong’s cigarette fell to the wet ground, extinguished instantly. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, then slowly turned within Jong Won’s arms until they were face-to-face.
Poong cupped Jong Won’s face with a bruised palm. Jong Won didn't pull away; he leaned into the touch, his own hands gripping Poong’s wrists.
“I didn’t fight because you couldn’t endure it,” Poong said, his voice rough and low. He wiped Jong Won tear away with his thumb. “I fought because you shouldn’t have to.”
Jong Won shook his head, his chest heaving. “You don’t understand... you scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” Poong murmured, his thumb tracing the line of Jong Won's jaw. “I didn’t want you to see that side of me.”
“If you two are done being sappy,” Hyun Seok’s voice drifted from the alley entrance, sounding exhausted, “we actually need to go to the hospital.”
Nam No stood by the car, silently holding a clean cloth for Poong’s head.
Poong ignored them for a moment longer. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jong Won’s. Then, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on Jong Won’s forehead, right above his tear-filled eyes.
“I never even think you are a burden,” Poong whispered. “It’s the only thing I care about.”
Jong Won closed his eyes, his breathing finally beginning to steady. He didn't move away. In the quiet of the rainy alley.