Episode 3: Warm Scent of the Christmas Bakery

The early morning air in the alleys of Seongbuk-dong was as cold as ice, but the area around the 'Christmas Pang' bakery was full of sweet and warm warmth, as if it were a completely different season. 5:30 in the morning. White smoke rose from the store's chimney and dispersed into the bluish dawn sky, and the delicious smell of freshly baked yeast bread spread from the bakery's ventilation fan on the alley floor like a carpet. The butterfly was sitting in a gap in the wall next to the bakery, on top of a thick gas pipe. The plumbing pipes were lukewarm thanks to the hot water heated in the boiler room inside the building, making it a perfect spot to thaw your frozen feet. The guy was watching the front yard of the bakery with his only right eye squinted. 'A small bakery on the corner of an alley,

A yellow lantern brightens the darkness. When the sweet smell comes on the wind,

Even my frozen heart is melting. The bent back of a wounded young man,

Hands kneading dough without saying a word. In your and my closed left eye

‘What kind of sadness is there?’ The butterfly gently trembled on the back of its neck and sang a song in its heart in a low voice. The look in the eyes of the man I saw through the window last night did not leave my mind all night long. During the years I lived as a stray cat, humans were always a fearful predator to be wary of and a natural enemy to avoid. But the look the young man gave me last night was different. It was the deep bond and silent warmth one felt when discovering a fellow countryman with the same wound. Jingling—

A clear and elegant brass bell rang and the wooden door of the bakery opened. The butterfly’s two ears perked up. He lowered his body, curled up his fur, and hid slightly behind the pipe, but his right eye was clearly fixed on the door. A man walked out. His name is Kang Min-woo. He was a 26-year-old young man. Minwoo was wearing a brown leather apron over a dark blue brushed hooded zip-up, and on his head was the same gray fur beanie as last night. A long stream of white breath blew out from his mouth.

Minwoo was holding a large broom to sweep away the snow that had fallen overnight on the steps in front of the store. Square, square. The regular sound of a broom sweeping away snow-covered sidewalk blocks echoed through the quiet alleyways at dawn. Minwoo’s movements were simple and disciplined. I could see the strong muscles of my shoulders and arms writhing through the fabric. Quite different from ordinary bakers, he had a solid physique typical of an athlete trained through intense exercise over a long period of time. After sweeping away all the snow, Minwoo leaned the broom against the wall and straightened his back. Then I took a deep breath of cold air and looked around the surrounding alleys.

His gaze naturally went down the floor-to-ceiling window where the little cat was sitting last night. There was nothing there. A moment of regret flashes across Minwoo’s face. He pursed his lips and tried to turn his head, but suddenly looked up at the gas pipes running along the wall. And there, I found a tuft of golden fur sticking out from behind the pipe and large emerald eyes. Minwoo’s halting movements. The butterfly also stopped breathing. I got caught. Should I run away? But the guy's feet didn't come off easily. This was because the expression on Minwoo’s face had the same soft warmth as last night.

Minwoo moved very slowly, as if trying not to scare the cat. He didn't raise his hand or call loudly. He took a step back from his spot and entered the bakery. 'It went in...'

The butterfly relaxed, but at the same time felt a strange sense of emptiness. Just when I was about to come down from the pipe and go back, thinking that humans are just like that, the clear bell rang again. Jingling— Minwoo opened the door again and came out. This time there was something in both his hands. In one hand, he held a flat ceramic bowl, and in the other, he held a piece of freshly baked, warm croissant and a chunk of boiled chicken breast. Inside the ceramic bowl was steaming lukewarm lactose-free milk. Minwoo went under the plumbing pipe and under the tin eaves where snow and wind did not enter. Then he knelt down and placed the ceramic bowl and piece of meat neatly on a clean paper stand. “Baby. You were there.”

Minwoo’s voice was low and soft. It was warm and profound, like the low-pitched sound of a cello ringing in a cave. “It was cold, wasn’t it? I was worried because it snowed a lot all night. I saw yesterday that your face was hurt a lot... Eat this. I don’t know if it will suit your taste, but it is pure meat without any seasoning. I also warmed up the milk so it won’t upset your stomach.” After putting down the food, Minwoo took three or four steps back and sat down on the stairs to let the cat relax his guard. He rested his chin and waited, looking at the butterfly. I didn't push him, and he didn't try to force me to come and touch him.

Keeping a distance from stray cats was the deepest respect and consideration for others. The butterfly's nose sniffed and fluttered. The smell wafting through the air was deadly. The warm, sweet smell of milk, and the protein scent of freshly boiled, moist chicken breast. My stomach was screaming and churning. For a guy who had been starving for two days, it was like a meal from God. The butterfly slowly came down from the pipe. I stepped off the bricks and carefully onto the snow-covered ground. Snowflakes coolly wet the cotton jelly, but his attention was entirely focused on the food in front of him and Minwoo sitting on the stairs.

One step, another step. Every time the butterfly took a step, it watched Minwoo with its right eye. Minwoo didn't move a thing and just smiled with gentle eyes. The deep scar on the left side of his face stood out red in the early morning sunlight. The scar, like a medal, came to Nabi as the most powerful token of trust.

‘That man won’t hurt me. Because that person also knows the same pain as me.' The butterfly finally reached the bowl and carefully lowered its head. First, I touched the tip of my tongue to lukewarm milk. Sweet, soft warmth flowed down my tongue and down my esophagus. It was an ecstatic sensation as if my frozen intestines were slowly melting.

“Chuk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk…”

The butterfly started licking and drinking the milk frantically. Then, I took a mouthful of gently torn chicken breast. The guy closed his eyes as he felt the delicious taste of meat seeping out between his teeth. It was the best food I had ever tasted in my life. For a stray cat who used to only steal rotten fish heads or spicy seasoned scraps from food waste bins, this warm and clean meal was a miracle in itself. “Eat slowly. Take care. No one will take it from you.”

Minwoo said with a low smile. The kindness mixed with his laughter warmed the cold winter air. After emptying the bowl cleanly, the butterfly licked the area around its mouth with satisfaction. As I lifted my head and patted my bloated stomach, I made eye contact with Minwoo, who was still sitting on the stairs and watching me. The butterfly hesitated for a moment. It was normal for an ordinary stray cat to run away as soon as it finished eating without even looking back. Because staying near humans for a long time was bringing danger to oneself. But the butterfly did not run away.

Rather slowly, he walked towards the stairs where Minwoo was sitting. Light, light. The sound of footsteps on the snow echoed quietly. Minwoo’s eyes widened in surprise. It was extremely rare for a stray cat to approach a human on its own after eating. The butterfly came right in front of Minwoo’s boots and stopped. Then he raised his head and looked up at Minwoo’s face. The guy's clear emerald right eye stared straight at Minwoo's wounded left eye.

“Nyaa—ong.”

The butterfly lightly rubbed its body against Minwoo’s trouser legs. The best expression of affection shown only when a cat opens its heart is 'cheek rubbing'. A sacred ritual in which you declare, ‘You are mine,’ by applying your own pheromones from your cheeks to the other person. The sound of something crashing down in Minwoo's chest was heard. He slowly stretched out his trembling hand. The tip of his finger, which he carefully extended out in case it escaped, touched the butterfly's golden forehead fur. The soft, warm feel of fur. And the small vibration of the skull felt underneath. Instead of running away, the butterfly pressed its head into Minwoo's palm and began to purr happily. “Oh my... you’re so gentle.”

Minwoo’s eyes turned red. He gently scratched the butterfly's chin with his bare, glove-free hand. The butterfly closed its eyes and craned its neck. human warmth. It was deep enough to instantly melt the snowstorm in the frozen alley, and so sweet that I could never forget it. Bread was truly a mysterious food. The magic created by the combination of insignificant white powder, water, a handful of salt, and yeast, a living, breathing, invisible microorganism. The process of them coagulating in a kneader to form an elastic mass, breathing in a warm fermentation room, and slowly swelling, resembled the mystery of life being conceived in a mother's womb.

Kang Min-woo would face the mystery of life every morning and rebuild his broken soul. If you only learned how to knock down and destroy your opponent with your fists in the boxing ring,

On the workbench in the bakery, I learned how to caress the dough with gentle hands, bring it to life, and provide warm comfort and sustenance to others. Thump, percussion—! Minwoo's sturdy hands beat down the traditional French sourdough baguette dough on a huge wooden workbench. His well-trained forearm and shoulder muscles contracted and relaxed regularly. Flour dust fluttered gently into the air and sparkled in the orange incandescent light. “Whoa…”

Minwoo wiped the sweat beads from his forehead with the back of his hand. The thick scar across his left eyebrow stood out red and wet with sweat. Although my left eye, which had lost its optic nerve through surgery, could not see anything, it gave me a deeper focus when making bread. Instead of being swayed by the visual noise in front of my eyes, I was able to gauge the perfection of the bread only by the subtle moisture of the dough that touched my fingertips, the acidity of the fermented yeast, and the scent of the bread baking in the oven. When I opened the oven door, the red heat of 450 degrees Fahrenheit and the ecstatic exclamation of freshly baked bread burst out.

The crackling sound of the crust cracking apart. Bakers called this sound ‘The Bread Singing.’ When well-baked bread is taken out of the oven, the crust contracts slightly as it meets cold air, making a clear sound like the sound of wind chimes. Minwoo looked out the window, neatly displaying freshly baked bread on a cooling rack. A bundle of golden fur quietly crouching on a gas pipe in front of the store. 'Snowflake', a cheese tabby cat, was staring at him with his only right eye.

An indescribable feeling welled up in Minwoo's heart. When Minwoo first saw the scars on the cat's face, he was as shocked as if he was looking in a mirror. The world praises only things that are flawless and flawless. The wounded boxer was branded a loser and forgotten, and the wounded stray cat was pointed out as a monster and chased away. But Minwoo knew. Having a scar is the most glorious proof that you have fought against the storms of life so fiercely.

“Hold on, baby. The special meal for you will be ready soon.”

This morning, Minwoo placed a piece of fresh cod meat he had specially purchased from the fish market into the steamer. Since he couldn't give seasoned human bread to stray cats, he carefully cooked fresh fish or chicken breast for Snowflake every day. The time to cook a warm meal for the little soul on the road that was hurt,

Minwoo felt with his whole body that he was no longer an isolated loner, but that he was providing much-needed warmth to someone. Baking bread has been one of the most primordial and sacred rituals ever since humans first began dealing with fire. A process in which the starch and protein dormant in the white flour grains meet with water to form a gluten network, trapping the carbon dioxide gas emitted by the yeast, and creating fluffy, porous bread. It was no different from the creative process of breathing life into dead matter. Kang Min-woo felt the subtle vibrations transmitted to his fingertips as he kneaded the dough. “Good… fermentation is perfect.”

A faint smile spread across Minwoo’s lips. Ordinary bakery franchises use a lot of chemical baking improvers and instant dry yeast to make bread rise in a factory-style manner in 1 to 2 hours.

Minwoo has been raising a 50-year-old natural yeast strain (Levain) that was passed down to him from his maternal grandmother, carefully feeding it every morning. Wild yeast obtained by fermenting apples and raisins added a deep and mellow acidity and flavor to the bread, and naturally decomposed the gluten through long-term low-temperature aging, creating a comfortable bread without feeling bloated. To Minwoo, bread was not just a product, but a healing food that warmly embraced people's tired bodies and minds. The oven's red heat rays burned, and the scent of fragrant butter and savory grains filled the entire bakery alley. When he opened the store door and went out, Minwoo's gaze was focused on the gas pipe on the wall without hesitation. And when he saw the little golden cat waiting for him there,

Minwoo's heart was filled with a feeling so hot that it instantly blew away the cold of the early morning. “You’re early, kid.”

As Minwoo spoke sweetly, the snowflake quietly turned its tail and came down the stairs. This miraculous trust is formed between cats and humans, recognizing each other's territory and embracing each other's pain. It was a miracle more dazzling than any other Christmas gift that came to the poor winter alleys of Seongbuk-dong. The kitchen of the bakery ‘Christmas Pang’ was a small universe. Kang Min-woo lifted the bag of flour and poured it into a large mixing bowl. The white powder caught the morning sunlight and raised a brilliant dust cloud in the air. Every time the soft texture of flour brushed his fingertips, Minwoo felt the rough memories of his past days of hitting the punching bag with boxing gloves being purified like soft bread dough. “Yes... you must become the hand that creates life.”

Minwoo muttered to himself as he mixed the natural sourdough into the dough. My grandmother always said this when she was alive. “Minwoo, they say bread doesn’t lie. If the baker is nervous, the bread becomes rough, and if there is hatred in the baker’s heart, the bread bakes bitterly. Sweet and fluffy bread is only completed when you put all your heart and soul into it, wishing the happiness of the person eating the bread.” Reflecting on the teachings, Minwoo kneaded the dough with sincerity. Once the dough was as elastic as a smooth baby's bottom, he covered it with a wet cotton cloth and placed it in a warm fermentation room.

Then he carefully approached the door and looked out into the alleyway outside. Snowflake, a golden cat sitting quietly at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for my touch. The guy's clear emerald right eye was shining brightly in the sunlight. Minwoo went out from the kitchen, carrying warm milk and a neat plate of lean meat. The sight of him happily raising his tail every time the door opens and the brass bell rings,

It was the only sunlight that instantly melted the deep depression and silence that had been frozen in Minwoo's heart for a long time. “Welcome, snowflake. Let’s eat delicious food and cheer up today as well.”

When Min-woo bent his knees and spoke sweetly, the snowflake came running up to Min-woo and pressed its body against Min-woo's trouser legs, responding with a loud noise. A wounded former boxer and an abandoned one-eyed stray cat. Every morning on the steps in front of a simple bakery in Seongbuk-dong, they were performing the warmest and most beautiful miracle ritual in the world. The charm of sourdough bread lies in the slowness of time. Bread that has been forcibly risen with instant yeast in just a few hours may be shiny on the outside, but the inside is soft and quickly becomes stale. However, bread made by live natural yeast and lactic acid bacteria slowly ripening at low temperature for 18 hours to break down the proteins in the flour,

The skin is crisp like caramel, the inside is moist, and it boasts a deep and complex flavor. Kang Min-woo smiled calmly as he looked at the campagne being baked to golden color in the oven. “I guess life is like bread...”

If you rush things, they are bound to break and burst. When I was in my early 20s and had invested everything in boxing, I was so nervous and ran without brakes, chasing only victory and glory. As a result, injuries and blindness occurred. However, as he endured that bitter ordeal, Minwoo was finally realizing what the true taste of life was. The oven timer chimed cheerfully. Ding—! Minwoo put on oven gloves and took out a heavy bread mold. The aroma of savory grains and the sweetness of butter filled the entire bakery. The nose of Snowflake, a small cat who was watching herself from beyond the glass window, from under the snow-covered stairs, sniffed and moved.

Minwoo put the bread on a cooling rack and took a small ceramic bowl specially prepared for Snowflake. Fresh salmon meat was torn into small pieces and lukewarm goat milk was poured. After opening the store door, Minwoo's steps were lighter and warmer than ever.

“Snowflake, let’s eat!”

As if responding to his friendly voice, the snowflake came running up the stairs, cheerfully wagging its tail. The morning sun cast a dazzling golden blessing upon the heads of the two wounded souls. The sound of kneading the bread dough was like my mother's heartbeat. Minwoo Kang pushed out the round ball of rye dough with his entire body weight on a wide wooden workbench. Every time the dough bounced back and forth, the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla rose. For Minwoo, the bakery was a sanctuary where he could wash away his wounded soul. It was the warmth of this bread dough that saved him from wandering for a long time after leaving the boxing ring. When the bread that you have risen by mixing flour and water with your own hands is baked golden in the oven,

Minwoo used to confirm that he was still a useful being in the world. And now I was sharing that warmth with that little stray cat, Snowflake. “You’re so special... I wonder if you can keep your eyes so clear on that cold street.”

Minwoo looked out the window and muttered softly. A snowflake curled up on a gas pipe in front of the store looked at itself and pricked up its ears. People often get deeper comfort and teachings from animals than from humans. The image of a snowflake quietly living the life it has been given without resentment or complaints is,

He was like a little teacher in life who taught Minwoo the meaning of true courage and recovery. Minwoo smiled and opened the door, holding a plate of warm goat milk and fresh salmon fillet. The simple but sincere breakfast shared between the two became the most beautiful sight in the alleys of Seongbuk-dong. Making bread was a great art created with just time and sincerity. Kang Min-woo tapped the bottom of the campagne, which had been baked to golden brown in the oven, with a spatula. Tongtong—a clear and cheerful resonant sound. It was a heavenly sound that only came when the filling was properly hollow and the crust was perfectly formed.

Minwoo took a deep breath as he neatly arranged the hot bread on a cooling rack. The beads of sweat on my forehead shone like jewels under the orange incandescent light. When I opened the store door and walked out into the snow-covered alley, I was thrilled at the moment I encountered the snowflake waiting for me on the plumbing pipe. It was not simply a relationship between the giver and receiver of food. It was a miraculous encounter between two souls who recognized each other's lack and loneliness and were healed by each other's presence.

“Snowflake, you’ve been waiting a long time, right?”

At the sound of Minwoo's friendly voice, the snowflake turned its tail and ran down the stairs. A cat's small footprints are clearly marked on the white snow field. The footprints passed through the cold alley and led to Minwoo’s legs,

The two beings were sharing each other's body heat and having the warmest morning in the world. The warmth emanating from the kneader was the heart of the baking room. Minwoo Kang touched the flour and felt the breath of natural yeast on his fingertips. “Snowflake, when I watch the bread rise... I feel how tough and beautiful life is.”

Minwoo spoke softly to the snowflake who was looking at him across the threshold of the bakery. The cat waggled its tail and listened to Minwoo's voice. Although I could not understand the full meaning of the words, the deep affection and comfort contained in the voice was conveyed throughout my body. Minwoo put down a bowl of warmed goat milk in front of Snowflake and gently scratched under her chin. “You need to eat a lot and be healthy. You are now the little guardian of this bakery.”

Snowflake closed her eyes in happiness and rubbed her head against Minwoo's palm. The warm winter miracle created by two wounded souls was ripening beautifully in a small bakery in Seongbuk-dong. The delicious scent that wafted out while the bread was baking in the oven was a warm feeling that filled the alleys of Seongbuk-dong. Kang Min-woo was deeply moved as he placed a freshly baked baguette on a cooling rack. The times I touched white flour every morning and healed my wounded soul. And Snowflake, a small stray cat who watched over him at the threshold of that time. “Thank you, Snowflake. It feels so warm having you by my side.”

At Minwoo’s whisper, the snowflake turned its tail and ran up the stairs. A simple breakfast shared between two wounded beings facing each other.