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If you run a shop in one place for a long time, you inevitably get familiar faces among the customers.

Of course, we still don’t know their names. We know their faces, habits, the times they come… We learn what kind of bread they prefer in the morning, at lunchtime, or in the evening, how they buy it, and whether they like syrup in their coffee or not.

It’s a bit fascinating how we can gather such personal details while not actually knowing who they really are.

Perhaps that’s because this café isn’t a world-famous franchise in a bustling downtown area. In such cafés, even frequent visitors can easily get lost among the multitude of customers who come in occasionally.

Of course, I’ve only been working at this bakery for a few months now. So, compared to my older sister, who’s seen customers’ faces for years, I could only remember a handful.

But still, some customers’ faces stick in my memory.

There’s the middle-aged man who walks in with a terribly exhausted expression, wearing a thick padded jumper over a suit. His outfit has changed a bit with the seasons, transitioning from late summer to fall, but that tired look remains the same.

As he places the signature Fresh Cream Bread at the counter, his face, while as weary as ever, also shows a hint of something different beyond that fatigue.

“Looks like you’ve been traveling far.”

Yeah, from the customers’ perspective, this bakery has stood firm for several years now.

When it’s morning or lunchtime, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, and it’s open every day without a break except for Wednesdays.

It’s quite busy, especially when a lot of customers come in. In fact, there are even some customers who only appear during those busy times. It might not have any outstanding features, but thinking about it again, I guess it’s unique in that it’s not an ordinary franchise bakery.

The person baking bread here is my beloved older sister, Ah-yoon, and I assure you the bread is delicious. Freshly baked bread from honest ingredients every day could easily make you want to keep eating it.

“I just picked up some tricks after baking every day.”

One time, when I complimented my sister’s baking skills, she replied like that, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She had said she just mechanically came back to the bakery and lost track of herself.

But if it weren’t for my diligent sister, she wouldn’t be able to come back to the bakery non-stop like that in the first place. If the bread weren’t this tasty, surely there wouldn’t be regular customers. If she were to take a month off, there probably wouldn’t be anyone remembering to come back.

“Ah, yes, I just went out for a bit.”

In response to my sister’s words, the man inserted his credit card into the card reader.

“I was surprised when the bakery suddenly didn’t open for a while. I thought you closed down. It’s the cheapest and tastiest place around.”

My sister wore an expression that seemed unsure of how to respond to that. Sure, she looked pleased, but…

The customer didn’t seem to expect a different answer. He merely smiled once at us, picked up the Fresh Cream Bread he just paid for, and turned to leave.

Many customers just buy their bread, pay, and go. Some don’t say a word during the process, others give a faint smile, and some throw a casual greeting.

Among them, there are those who leave a good impression and others who leave a particularly bad one. Occasionally, there are those who openly flirt, too.

But still—

“I came back after I saw you reopened.”

“I was really worried you had quit. I’m glad that’s not the case.”

“There’s nothing wrong, right?”

—It’s rare for customers to drop by and ask us about our well-being like this.

Just as we remember the customers, the customers remember us.

We might not know each others’ names. We don’t know their ages either aside from their appearances. Honestly, prying too much into such things can be a bit of an insult to the other person.

But we all know that person is there.

Even if they suddenly vanish from our sight, it doesn’t overly concern us. They might just have changed jobs, taken a leave, or gone somewhere far away for personal reasons.

We’re not really on a personal level, and we might not end up knowing each other any better going forward, but when someone you haven’t seen suddenly reappears, it strangely brings a sense of joy.

People might say it’s cold living in a big city where you don’t even know the names of your neighbors… but still, this way, we know that we all exist for each other.

“……”

My sister didn’t say much. While she readily responds when customers talk to her, she looked a bit blank once they left.

It seemed she was lost in thought, reflecting on the customers’ reactions.

What if I were in her shoes?

If I’d just gone through daily life without much thought, and suddenly realized everyone around me remembered me, I surely wouldn’t feel bad about it.

Just being there would mean that those “meaningless hours” weren’t actually meaningless at all.

I stayed quietly beside my sister, saying nothing, just so she could keep feeling that way.

*

“Do you like bread?”

“Um…”

We decided to have dinner with bread that my sister baked for the first time in a while. Even someone who loves bread would eventually get tired of it if they had it for dinner every day, so we usually ordered some takeout instead.

In fact, my sister said that before I started working here, she almost never ate dinner or would just have a little something after coming home. There was a reason her waist became worryingly thin.

After I started working here, I made sure she wouldn’t go hungry, so I got her to order various things.

But was this the first time my sister had asked me something like this? I honestly wasn’t sure. It might be the first time since I didn’t remember her ever doing so.

“Is there anyone who dislikes bread?”

I asked with a serious expression.

I like bread. Actually, I have a strong regional bias, but aside from some foods unique to this area that I haven’t tried, I liked most foods.

Ah, no. I still didn’t particularly care for spaghetti with tomato sauce. Well, thinking about it again, there are indeed some foods I don’t like that much, even if they’re not truly ‘disliked.’

For example, I’m not fond of bibimbap.

I mean, I’m not sure what real, high-quality bibimbap would taste like, but at least the bibimbap my mother made with sesame oil, gochujang, and a few veggies… I didn’t like it that much.

It’s not that I disliked gochujang or rice or even the fried egg I sometimes threw in. It’s just that the combination of all those ingredients in bibimbap didn’t sit well with me.

It wasn’t that it tasted bad; it might be more accurate to say I got tired of it.

My mom would cook a lot of rice in the electric rice cooker before going to work. By the time I woke up in the morning, there’d be a whole pot of rice kept warm.

The fridge always had side dishes, and the pantry contained canned tuna or luncheon meat, but honestly, I think I used to feel that it was a shame to waste them, even at that young age. I already knew it would taste better if my mom used those to make other dishes rather than me just grabbing them.

However, it was a hassle to pull out side dishes every single time. Taking them out of the fridge and putting them back in could feel such a drag. Maybe it was because I was little back then, and I couldn’t just take a few steps and reach where I wanted to go.

So, I often just threw some rice in a big bowl, mixed in gochujang and sesame oil, and sometimes added some veggies from the fridge to make a quick bibimbap.

At first, I thought that was the simplest and tastiest way to do it, but over time, it became incredibly monotonous. That distinctive taste of the dish turned out to be a downside. Later, even the thought of that combination made my mouth turn just thinking about it.

On the other hand, bread… was something I could snack on sometimes. I would buy several loaves from the shop that sold three for a thousand won and set a rule of ‘one a day’ to make them last.

So, I loved bread. Now, knowing I could eat as much as I wanted.

“My dad hated it.”

“…Huh?”

But hearing my sister’s reply to my comment made me stop dead in my tracks, bread still in my mouth.

It was rare for my sister to bring up their parents…