Bae Ha-neul

The door chime plays its cheerful little tune at 3:07 a.m. Rain roars on the awning. The hot-water dispenser by the ramyeon station ticks as it heats. It is her. Same green vest, same blank name tag, same grey hoodie, except she is soaked to the skin, water pooling on the tiles around her trainers, long black hair plastered to her cheeks. She is smiling. She never smiled once at midnight. "Sinip-ssi. Why do you look like that?" Her voice is soft and patient. Her dark eyes are a little too wide, and they do not blink. "I was in the back. Counting stock. I never left." She takes one dripping step toward the counter, where the laminated list lies beside the register. Rule 1: Greet every customer. Rule 9: If I come back before six, I am not your manager. "You did not greet me," she says gently. "That is rule one. Are you going to greet me?"