By day two, the sweetness of the bakery had worn off.
The scent of fresh bread and sugar was still there, warm and welcoming, but Kwang-su wasn't paying attention to that. He had his eyes on Jun-seo—the too-perfect, too-polite boy who seemed to float through the kitchen like a flour fairy.
And that annoyed him.
Jun-seo was quiet, focused, always doing everything the right way. He measured ingredients like he was handling precious gems and folded dough like it was some sacred ritual.
Kwang-su? He dumped sugar a little too fast. Stirred with a little too much force. Knocked into Jun-seo's elbow once—totally an accident. The second time... maybe not.
"Hey!" Jun-seo snapped, turning to face him with a flour-smudged frown. "Can you not bump into me every five minutes?"
"Sorry," Kwang-su said with a shrug. "Didn't see your tiny frame standing there."
Jun-seo's eyes narrowed. "Maybe if you actually paid attention instead of acting like a brat—"
"Whoa, easy there, Bread Boy," Kwang-su smirked. "Did I ruin your delicate pastry dreams?"
Jun-seo let out a sharp sigh and turned back to his dough, clearly trying to stay calm.
But Kwang-su kept going. He hummed loudly while kneading, poked at Jun-seo's carefully arranged trays, and once, when Jun-seo turned away, swapped the sugar with salt.
Jun-seo tasted the dough, gagged, and turned on him with murder in his eyes.
"You—! What is wrong with you?!"
"Oh, must've grabbed the wrong jar," Kwang-su said, grinning like it was the funniest thing in the world.
That was it.
Jun-seo threw his rolling pin onto the table with a loud clack. "You're impossible! Do you even want to be here?"
"Not really. But annoying you is a decent consolation prize."
Just as Jun-seo looked like he might lunge at him, the bakery door flew open.
Kwang-su's grandfather stormed in.
"What is all this noise?!"
The two boys froze.
"Hands up," the old man barked.
"What—?"
"Now!"
Reluctantly, they raised their hands. The grandfather marched over, grabbed each of them by the ear, and tugged—hard.
"Ow—owowow!" Kwang-su winced.
"Ah—stop! That hurts!" Jun-seo squeaked.
"You two think this is a playground?" the grandfather growled. "You're here to work, not throw tantrums like kindergarteners."
Just then, the bakery door creaked open again. In walked the soft-spoken, gentle-eyed man from the day before—Jun-seo's grandfather.
"Jin-woo," he said calmly. "Let the boys go. You're going to rip their ears off."
Kwang-su's grandfather—Jin-woo—grumbled but released them.
"Fine. No more ear-pulling," he muttered. Then he turned to them with a devilish glint in his eye. "But you both want to act like fools? Then you'll earn it."
The punishment? Work. Real work.
From that moment on, Kwang-su and Jun-seo were assigned to handle the entire front end of the bakery—cleaning, stocking, serving customers, and yes, baking, together.
Jun-seo groaned softly. "This is a nightmare."
Kwang-su leaned close with a smug smile. "Welcome to hell, Bread Boy."
Jun-seo scowled. "Stop calling me that!"
But as they tied on their aprons and got to work, something was shifting.
The war had begun.