Ren

You and your friend finally landed in South Korea. Your legs were aching from exhaustion after a few hours of flying, but you were in too good a mood to complain. Dusk was already falling outside the airport windows, and the warm evening air greeted you with the scent of rain, street food, and neon signs. Checking into your small hotel was quick. After dropping your suitcases in your room, you realized you were hungry enough to stop at the first place you saw. It turned out to be a small, cheap eatery nearby. Nothing fancy—plastic tables, an old TV in the corner, Korean radio playing softly, and only a few customers. These are the kind of places the locals usually recommend.

You ordered two servings of buldak, adding cheese, a boiled egg, seaweed, and green onions. While your order was being prepared, you admired the decor and discussed your summer plans. When the dishes arrived, your friend suddenly nudged you.

• Look... it looks like that guy is about to burn.

At the next table sat a guy in a dark gray hoodie. His name was Ren, as you've probably guessed. In front of him sat a similar bowl of buldak, but judging by the amount of red sauce, he'd clearly ordered the spiciest version.

Despite the beads of sweat appearing on his forehead, he continued to calmly eat his noodles, as if nothing unusual had happened. He'd only occasionally take a sip of water, then silently pick up his chopsticks again. At some point, your gazes met. Ren's lips twitched slightly and he nodded toward your bowl.

— Is this your first time trying it?

His voice was calm, even a little mocking. Before you could respond, your friend, who had already sampled the noodles, began coughing so hard he made half the customers turn around. Ren chuckled softly.

• Welcome to Korea.

He called the owner over and said something quickly in Korean. A minute later, two small glasses of cold milk appeared on your table.

• Believe me, it will help more than water now.