MERRY 50

It wasn’t a hollow compliment aimed at dodging those bizarre sunglasses. For a rare moment, Ethan let his guard down and revealed his true feelings with sincerity as he took the plain pair and put them on. He toyed with the idea of asking Somerset how he looked, just as the man had done, but decided against it. He knew the answer would be “beautiful,” and if by some chance the expectation was missed, it would bother him more than he cared to admit.

Ethan caught a brief glimpse of his reflection in the window of a parked car as he walked past. When his eyes landed on the next vehicle, which had exceptionally dark tinting, his gaze shifted from his own reflection to Somerset’s. He examined the man’s profile in the window and then satisfied his curiosity by turning his head to look at the real thing.

Strictly speaking, since they were both in shirts, chinos, and sunglasses, a written description might have painted them like mirror images, but the reality was entirely different. The colors of their clothes clashed; Ethan had his shirt buttoned up dutifully, save for the very top one, and his chinos weren’t made of the same breezy, swaying fabric as Somerset’s. Not to mention the vast difference in their sunglasses.

“Hm? What’s this? I feel a pair of burning eyes on me.”

Somerset turned his head abruptly, catching Ethan’s eye. Thanks to the sunglasses, Ethan could feign innocence.

“They weren’t burning.”

“The weather is what’s burning.” Even with a translucent black tint layered over the lush green streets, the summer sun asserted its overwhelming presence. It was hot, and the sunlight poured down as if it intended to pierce right through the lenses of their sunglasses.

About five minutes into the walk, Ethan thought it might have been better to turn back and take the car, but he kept moving. He figured walking side by side before it got any hotter wasn’t a bad idea—chatting about nothing in particular. Mostly, it was Somerset’s mouth doing the heavy lifting.

“I heard you’re a college student. Is that right? Spending your summer break at home.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Just word going around.”

It seemed his specific details hadn’t spread too far. Out of habit, Ethan sharpened his focus and analyzed the situation. He felt relieved upon concluding that his mother would have only shared information appropriate for public consumption.

“Which university do you go to?”

“An Ivy.”

“Which one?”

Unsatisfied with the broad answer, Somerset lowered his sunglasses and looked at Ethan with his bare eyes. The gaze felt like a laser, making Ethan’s cheek prickle.

He was majoring in Law at Yale. He’d chosen it because the law seemed like a suitable pillar for a “normal” life. The primary reasoning was that it would be useful if he ever got caught up in an unexpected situation.

When Ethan stayed quiet for a moment while gathering his thoughts, Somerset let out a deflated sound.

“Fine. I’ll find out eventually. I’ll settle for the confirmation that you’re a student today. Anyway, it means you must be incredibly smart.”

Ethan had been willing to satisfy his curiosity, but the moment had passed. He didn’t feel the need to push it since Somerset had already deferred the topic. Instead, Ethan kept the conversation going by turning the attention back to him.

“And you?”

“I failed my entrance exams, and now I’m unemployed.”

“You… actually took… entrance exams?”

“Is that… disbelief I’m hearing in your tone?”

Somerset mimicked Ethan’s stunned stuttering and flicked the frame of his sunglasses. He tried to act as if he were adjusting his glasses like a stereotypical model student from a movie, but the bizarre sunglasses killed the vibe completely. To be honest, he just didn’t look like the intellectual type.

“It’s closer to outright disbelief. My brain won’t accept it.”

“I like that expression. ‘My brain won’t accept it.'”

Somerset continued, clearly amused.

“To be precise, I didn’t fail—my mom did. I didn’t care either way, but she wanted to send me to a top-tier school. She almost poured in a massive donation to get me in through the back door.”

“Do you need comfort? If so, I’ll offer some.”

“Nah. It’s just something to laugh about.”

Ethan allowed his lips to curve into a smile. He was being swept up in Somerset’s cheerfulness. As they laughed and talked, he even forgot about the heat. By the time they crossed to the other side of the building-lined street, sweat was trickling down his spine, yet he felt remarkably refreshed. He even felt a twinge of regret when they reached their destination.

The place Somerset took Ethan was a sandwich shop with a striking blue sign. The calm music drifting faintly from the bar on the side of the same building felt out of place against the shop’s liveliness.

“You haven’t had lunch yet, right?”

It wasn’t even 11:00 yet. Ethan nodded and sat at the long bar table, scanning the sandwich menu. He was looking at the lighter options when a long finger suddenly appeared and pointed to the very bottom.

“We’re ordering the Kitty.”

“The Kitty?”

There was no item called “Kitty” on the menu; there was only a drawing of a cat with hollow cheeks. The reason became clear once he saw the owner’s face.

“Hey, Kittish!”

The elderly woman, who looked just like the cat drawing, received Somerset’s energetic greeting with a grumpy face.

“It’s been a while. I almost forgot who you were. And what’s with those suspicious-looking sunglasses?”

She grumbled as if her feelings were hurt, but her heart melted the moment Somerset flashed a smile.

“Tell me I look cool. Besides, I peeked in while passing by last week, and you weren’t here, Kittish.”

“Of course it had to be then. I went on summer vacation with my son.”

Somerset asked how her son was doing, and after a brief chat about the vacation, he pointed back to the bottom of the menu.

“Two Kitties, please.”

“You shouldn’t go blabbing about the secret menu so easily.”

Kittish’s sharp gaze shifted to Ethan. Ethan took off his sunglasses, tucked them into his shirt pocket, and offered a greeting. Kittish gave a passing grade to his polite, quiet eye contact.

“Kittish has a soft spot for handsome men.”

She didn’t deny Somerset’s explanation.

“Wait here. I’ll make it for you before the rush starts.”

The “Kitty”—a secret menu item known only to regulars—was a feast of two types of sandwiches, French toast, roasted potatoes, a croissant, cream cheese, syrup, and two cherry tomatoes, all filling a massive plate. Seeing the dish placed before him, Ethan tried his best to hide his dismay.

How on earth was he supposed to eat all of this? Only a cold-blooded person could crush the expectations of an elderly woman who was ignoring the increasingly busy state of her shop to watch them. To make matters worse, it came as a set with a large mug of chocolate latte.

“Once you taste it, you’ll be hooked.”

Somerset, full of confidence, took a huge bite of his sandwich. Watching him with a satisfied look, Kittish opened her bag of stories.

“This one was a fussy baby who was picky about his milk. If it wasn’t to his liking, he’d spit the bottle right out.”

She had worked for the Quinn family for a long time and opened this sandwich shop with her severance pay. When she was debating what kind of business to start, it was none other than Somerset who recommended sandwiches.

“I just wanted to keep eating Kittish’s sandwiches. That was it.”

Somerset spoke as if it were no big deal, but Kittish clearly trusted his innate sense of taste.

The sandwich shop had become a staple for Manhattan office workers’ mornings through word of mouth, thanks to its low prices and superb taste. Somerset boasted like he was the owner, saying that during early hours, people even had to wait in line. Kittish smiled warmly, as if watching a young grandson’s antics.

“Thanks to you, it looks like I’m going to get very rich. I might move next door to you soon.”

At her playful joke, Somerset looked at Ethan.

“You better stay on guard. Kittish is eyeing your house.”

Ethan shrugged and ate his sandwich. It was a combination of ordinary ingredients, but the taste was magnificent, as if some magic had been applied. To Ethan, who was carefully observing the contents, Kittish said:

“Are you trying to steal the secret of my special sauce? Not a chance.”

Somerset chuckled along with her as she laughed like a mischievous child with her wrinkled face.

“She won’t even tell me. That’s why I had no choice but to beg her to open a shop.”

His charm worked this time, too. Kittish gave them a salad made as a staff meal on the house.

“If you want more, you’ll have to pay ten thousand dollars.”

“I’ll make Ethan buy it for me. If he doesn’t have the money, I’m sure he’ll work here to pay for it.”

“If I put that boy in front of the shop, I’m sure we’d rake in the customers. I’d hire him in a heartbeat.”

Business was so good that any more customers would have been a problem. Eventually, the staff, who were short-handed, called for Kittish.

“Oh, dear. It’s a problem that they can’t do anything without me.”