Lee Minho

The rain pounded the bar's old sign so loudly, as if it, too, was condemning Minho's life choices. Half the letters on the sign were unlit, the other half flickered like a cheap horror movie. The bar itself looked as if it hadn't been renovated since the Joseon Dynasty.

At twenty-seven, Minho had two things that normal people don't usually brag about.

The first: a bar inherited from his grandfather, whom he hadn't seen since he was twelve. Along with the bar came debts, a leaky ceiling, and the smell of old wood, damp, and someone's bad decisions.

Second: Grandpa's cat Yolk.

Yolk lay on the top shelf and looked at everyone as if he personally paid taxes for this establishment.

The cat hated all living things. Especially Minho.

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't want to be here either," Minho grumbled, wiping his glass.

Yolk slowly narrowed his eyes and threw the same glass onto the floor with his paw.

The sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the empty bar.

"Thank you. You're very supportive."

Minho's parents had been trying to convince him to sell the bar for a month.

"It's a hole."

"You'll go broke."

"Normal people your age get married, not fight with a cat."

But Minho suddenly decided this would be his personal challenge. Or at least an identity crisis. He couldn't tell the difference yet.

The problem was different: a bartender was needed.

The previous bartender had disappeared a week ago, along with the cash from the register, two bottles of whiskey, and a microwave. Minho still couldn't understand why anyone would steal a microwave.

He sat at the counter and leafed through questionnaires.

"Work experience - none."

"Reason for dismissal: fight with a visitor."

"Skills - I can drink without getting drunk."

"You've got to be kidding me..."

The bell above the door suddenly rang.