The honeymoon phase of the new job—if you could call "dish-pan hands" and getting barked at by a silver-haired old lady a honeymoon—lasted exactly four hours.

By 7:00 PM, Café 90s was winding down. The vintage speakers were humming a soft indie track, and the sharp scent of lemon floor cleaner began to drown out the warm aroma of coffee. Min-ah was in the back office doing the inventory, and Grandmother Jung had retreated to the upstairs residence with a warning that "if a single spoon is spotted with a water stain, neither of you gets paid."

Jun-ho was wiped. He leaned against the polished wood of the counter, staring blankly at a "Maple Latte" poster that had been taped to the wall since before he learned to ride a bike.

"You look like a man who has discovered that 'manual labour' is more than just a phrase in a textbook," Si-woo remarked. He was untying his apron, his charcoal turtleneck finally showing some wrinkles.

"Shut up," Jun-ho muttered, though the bite was gone from his voice. "My legs feel like they’re made of lead. How are you not dead? You were doing dishes for three hours straight."

"In Paris, we walk everywhere. And grief... it makes you very good at staying busy so you do not have to think," Si-woo said, his voice dropping into that quiet, honest register again. He set his apron on the hook. "But I will admit, my hands feel like they have been pickled in lemon soap."

Just then, Min-ah’s phone, which she’d left charging on the counter near the register, vibrated. The screen lit up with a notification.

Both boys leaned in. It was a reflex. An instinct. A mistake.

The lockscreen wasn't a generic wallpaper or a picture of a cat. It was a high-resolution photo of Min-ah laughing, her head tilted back, and her arm linked with a guy who looked like he’d been synthesised in a laboratory to be the perfect human male. He was tall, had an easy, confident smile, and was wearing a sweatshirt with a prestigious American university logo.

The notification read: [1 New Message - Jace]: "Missing you like crazy, Rep. Only two more months until I'm back for a visit. Love you."

The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like the ceiling of Café 90s had dropped six inches.

"Jace?" Si-woo whispered, his "Parisian chic" confidence visibly deflating. "Who is Jace? That is not a Korean name."

Jun-ho felt a cold stone settle in the pit of his stomach. He’d heard rumours. He’d seen her talking on the phone late at night during school trips. But seeing the word 'Love'—and seeing that guy's face—made the "friend zone" he’d been living in feel more like a maximum-security prison.

"He’s... the one everyone talks about," Jun-ho said, his voice hollow. "The legendary boyfriend. He moved to the States for a specialised program before we hit our senior year. He’s a year older. Top of his class, soccer captain... basically a saint with a six-pack."

Si-woo stared at the screen until it went dark. "He looks... extremely stable. And his teeth are very straight."

"Yeah," Jun-ho sighed, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor behind the counter. "He’s the 'Final Boss.' I’ve been waiting for three years for them to break up. I thought distance would do it. But look at that. 'Missing you like crazy. Crazy my ass…'"

Si-woo joined him on the floor, sitting with his long legs tucked in. He looked at his pickled hands. "I moved five thousand miles to find a new beginning. I thought a local boy with a 'dependable' shirt would be my only obstacle. I did not prepare for an American soccer saint."

For the first time, the hostility between them evaporated. It was replaced by an overwhelming, salty scent of shared defeat.

"He probably speaks perfect English, too," Si-woo added gloomily.

"He probably doesn't even get pimples," Jun-ho added.

"He probably knows exactly which fork to use at a formal dinner."

"He definitely doesn't smell like dish soap."

The door to the back office creaked open. Min-ah stepped out, rubbing her eyes. She looked tired, but she smiled when she saw them both sitting on the floor.

"What are you guys doing? Is the floor that comfortable?" she asked, picking up her phone. She saw the notification, and her face transformed. It wasn't just a smile; it was a glow. A soft, genuine warmth that neither of them had ever been able to trigger.

"Oh, Jace messaged," she murmured to herself, her thumbs already flying across the screen. "You guys can head home. I'll lock up. You worked really hard today."

Jun-ho and Si-woo stood up in unison. They moved like two old men with chronic back pain.

"Goodnight, Min-ah," Jun-ho said, his voice flat.

"Rest well, Min-ah," Si-woo added, his French lilt sounding more like a tired sigh.

They walked out of Café 90s and stood on the sidewalk under the flickering streetlights. The night air was cool. Usually, this was where they would bicker about who got to walk her home or who did a better job at the register.

Instead, Si-woo reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped chocolate. He broke it in half and handed a piece to Jun-ho.

"It is 70% cocoa," Si-woo said. "It is bitter. Like our lives."

Jun-ho took the chocolate. He chewed it slowly. "It’s really bitter."

"Jun-ho?"

"Yeah?"

"That guy, Jace... he is in America. That is a different time zone. Many hours away."

Jun-ho looked at Si-woo. He saw a spark of the "Saboteur" look returning to the returnee’s eyes, but this time, it wasn't directed at Jun-ho.

"Yeah," Jun-ho said, a slow, dark grin forming on his face. "Long-distance relationships have a high failure rate. I read that in a sociology article once."

"We should investigate this 'saint,'" Si-woo mused, stepping toward the subway. "To ensure Min-ah is not being deceived. Purely out of concern for our Class Representative's well-being."

"Purely out of concern," Jun-ho agreed.

They started walking toward the station, side by side. They weren't friends. They were something much more dangerous: two rivals who had found a common enemy.

At the corner, the gym door opened, and Ye-na stepped out, her bag slung over her shoulder. She spotted the two of them walking together and stopped, her eyebrows shooting up.

"What's this? " she called out, her voice cutting through the quiet street. "The eagle and the crow flying the same sky now… did it finally click that you’re both losers?"

Si-woo didn't even flinch this time. He just looked at her and said, "We are conducting a security audit, Ye-na. It is a very serious matter."

Ye-na snorted, walking past them. "A security audit? You two couldn't guard a sandwich from a pigeon. Go home and wash the soap off your hands. You're embarrassing yourselves."

But as she walked away, she looked back at them for a second, a tiny, almost invisible smirk on her lips.

Jun-ho didn't care. He looked at Si-woo. "My place? My sister is basically a private investigator when it comes to social media."

"Lead the way," Si-woo said. "And tell your sister I have more chocolate."