T R O U B L E | 문제

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The soft clink of porcelain filled the air as you diligently wiped plates and bowls, stacking them neatly. The background hum of restaurant life was punctuated by the upbeat music playing from the wall-mounted speakers. It was just another busy day as a waitress.

“Miss Song Y/N!” a familiar male voice called out sharply from the manager’s desk.

Pausing your task, you turned with a sigh, wiping your hands on a clean towel before heading across the polished floor.

“Yes, Mr. Kang?” you asked, flashing him a polite smile.

He groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Aish, just call me Wonho, please. Just Wonho.” His face twisted in mock annoyance.

You leaned casually against the edge of the counter, teasing, “But it’s my duty to address you formally, isn’t it? Professionalism and all.” A playful grin tugged at your lips, barely hiding your amusement.

Wonho scowled, though his eyes gleamed with humor. “No, seriously. I hate it when people—especially girls—call me that. Makes me feel like some kind of overlord or something. Ugh, the thought.”

Suppressing a laugh, you relented. “Alright, Wonho. What did you call me over for?”

He straightened, crossing his arms smugly. “Not so fast. I won’t say until you promise to stick to just Wonho from now on.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, “Fine, fine. Just tell me already. I’ve got work to do.”

Satisfied, he handed you a sealed envelope. “Here. The boss sent out salary payments for two months in advance. Said he wouldn’t be around until the end of next month and didn’t want to delay anyone’s pay. Enjoy.”

Your eyes lit up as you took the envelope. “Two months’ pay? Wow, this is perfect! I can finally tick some things off my bucket list.”

Wonho chuckled. “Exactly. And to celebrate, I’m hosting a dinner for the staff tonight. You’re coming, right?”

Waving the envelope in the air like a victory flag, you grinned. “Count me in. Don’t worry—Wonho—I’ll be there.”

His satisfied smile followed you as you returned to your duties, tucking the envelope safely into your apron pocket.

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After freshening up in the lavatory, you adjusted your apron and stepped back into the restaurant. “Y/N,” someone called out, “table 9 needs service.”

You nodded, clicking your heels toward the designated table. As you approached, you noticed two men slouched opposite each other. One had a cigarette balanced between his fingers, while the other was barely upright, his forehead resting against the table. The unmistakable stench of alcohol hung in the air.

You straightened your posture and greeted them. “Good evening, sir. Do you need anything?”

The man with the cigarette barely looked at you as he slurred, “Yeah, bring us a bottle of whiskey. Make it quick.”

You hesitated, your professional smile faltering. “Sir, you already seem quite intoxicated. Are you sure—”

He slammed his hand against the table, cutting you off. “Stop talking and just do your job! You’re a waitress, not my babysitter!” His voice boomed through the nearly empty restaurant, drawing the attention of lingering diners.

Your lips pressed into a firm line, but you refused to back down. “Sir, this is a no-smoking zone. I’ll kindly ask you to put that out.”

The man shot to his feet, his movements unsteady but his glare fierce. “Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? Do you even know who I am?”

“I don’t, sir,” you replied evenly, though your heart pounded. “But I do know the rules, and smoking is prohibited here.”

His face turned a deeper shade of red as he growled, “You insolent brat! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Before you could react, he lunged toward you, his hand reaching for your neck.

The restaurant froze. Customers and staff alike stared in stunned silence. Your colleague, Deoksu, finally stepped forward, intercepting the man. “Sir, please calm down. She’ll get your order right away,” he said soothingly, shooting you a glance to back off.

Swallowing hard, you nodded and retreated to the bar to fetch the bottle. As you reached for it, you muttered under your breath, “What a jerk. Deoksu’s too nice to put up with someone like that.”

Returning to the table, you set the whiskey down with a sharp thud. Bowing slightly, you turned to leave, only for the other man—the previously slumped one—to grab your wrist.

“Why don’t you stay a while?” he drawled, his glazed eyes raking over you. “Have a drink with us. Come on, I won’t bite.”

You yanked your arm back, your voice steady but firm. “Let go of me.”

“What’s the rush?” he sneered, tightening his grip. “You could even sit on my lap if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

Disgust churned in your stomach. “Let go of me now!” you demanded, struggling against his grip.

The restaurant seemed paralyzed. Your coworkers watched, hesitant and unsure. The other diners sat frozen, eyes wide with morbid curiosity. Just as Deoksu started toward you, another figure stepped forward.

The sharp sound of a slap reverberated through the room. The drunk man released you, clutching his reddened cheek in shock.

You staggered back, blinking in surprise as your rescuer came into view—a man in black with close-cropped hair, his expression calm but dangerous.

You stared at him, stunned.

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Heya guys! I'm back haha. So who do you think the person would be? See ya soon!