Gomi's stomach growled loudly, and she sighed, trying to tame the beast. Her plan had been to swing by the market and restock the fridge, but now it was far too late.

And a hungry Bomi was dangerous, especially in a market crowded with old ladies.

Slumping forward dramatically, she let out a long, exaggerated wail. "Another ramen day...!" Tears streamed down her face as if the ramen gods themselves had forsaken her. She’d been surviving on ramen for a week now, and the fridge remained barren.

A guy with shaggy brown hair—uncannily resembling the part-timer from earlier—jumped in surprise at her outburst.

Gomi glared at him sharply, fighting the urge to smack his head just for the resemblance.

“Nothing to see here. Keep walking, punk.” She flicked her hand dismissively.

The guy froze before scrambling off, sneaking one more glance with his cheeks and ears turning a deep shade of pink. Peach-like, even.

Was he... blushing? Sadistic weirdo.

Though the bus stop was nearby, Gomi opted to walk home to blow off some steam. Her new apartment wasn’t exactly in the safest area, something her dad would be furious about if he ever found out. But it was all she could afford given their current situation, especially with the medical bills piling up.

“You did great holding back today, Gomi,” she muttered, patting herself on the back. “If you’d smashed that gnome’s head with the soju bottle, you’d have lost your job. And then who’d pay the bills? Truly, you’re a saint.”

She recalled his attempts to pass off the bottle as his manhood and burst into a hysteric laugh.

The streets grew narrower, the lights dimmer, as she made her way home. The old, run-down apartment complex loomed ahead—six stories of concrete misery that could easily be mistaken for the setting of a horror film.

Gomi climbed the stairs two at a time, reaching the third floor with ease.

Throwing the door open with exaggerated flair, she called out, “Gomi has arrived!”

No one answered. Of course not. Still, the habit was one that was difficult to break, since it’d been something she’d always said to her mom. The quiet darkness of the apartment tugged at her heart a little more each time.

Kicking off her shoes, she headed straight for the kitchen. A pot of water went on the stove, and it took four turns of the gas knob before the flame came to life. The familiar whoosh of fire wrapped around the pot like a gentle hug. Leaning against the counter, Gomi glanced around the empty space.

She still had to finish packing and arranging for the movers to bring the rest of their stuff from Jeonju. It felt like just yesterday they’d gotten the call about Dad being accepted into the medical trial—something they hadn’t dared to hope for.

The call had felt like a miracle, a sign that maybe things were finally turning around. But it meant uprooting their lives and moving to Seoul. The money from selling their home had covered Dad’s initial medical expenses, but it was still tight. Thankfully, her first semester at K University was covered too, but only because she’d chosen the cheapest, sketchiest apartment she could find.

The water bubbled, and Gomi sprinkled in the ramen seasoning before tossing in the noodles. As the pot foamed and steamed, she smiled. She probably looked like a witch brewing up some sort of magical elixir.

Her phone buzzed. Pulling it out, she saw a message from Jenny.

Jenny: Gomi! I’ll meet you at the front gate tomorrow! Can you believe we’re starting college??? ^__^ <3333

Holding chopsticks between her teeth, Gomi typed out a quick reply, knowing it wouldn’t satisfy her overly excited friend.

Gomi: Yeah, see you tomorrow.

She turned off the stove, leaned over the pot, and slurped up a mouthful of noodles, wincing as the steam hit her face. The first bite was always the best, even if it meant burning off half her taste buds.

She let out a contented sigh.

Maybe she was the sadistic weirdo after all.

Her phone buzzed again, but this time, she ignored it. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be more important than her ramen right now.