Mina thought she'd found a kind of peace. As a college student living in a quiet province of Korea, her life was predictable, even comforting. Her older sister Alicia's relationship with Kim Taehyung was a bright spot, and when the couple moved in t...
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Flashback
On this quiet Saturday morning, the world feels drenched in silvery rain, veiling the sun in a misty shroud, hidden somewhere deep behind the clouds. For Mina, it is the perfect weather. A gentle, melancholic calm settling over everything, as if the sky itself mirrors her quiet heart.
She stepped out from the shower, her skin still tinged with warmth, carrying the faint aroma of lavender. With practiced grace, she applied her skincare, each touch a soft ritual. She combed her hair, letting it fall in delicate waves over her shoulders. Finally, she slipped into her light pink dress, the shade of blushing peonies, soft and tender against her skin.
She glided into the kitchen, the soft murmur of rain harmonizing with her contemplative silence. Her gaze swept over the shelves, fingers trailing delicately along the cool marble countertop as she considered what to craft for breakfast. She settled into the chair, scrolling through her phone for baking ideas, her face softly lit by the screen in the dim morning light.
Then she stumbled upon a post, the soft pillowy loaves calling to her. Without a second thought, she decided today, she would bake a shokupan.
Mina's POV
"This is perfect!" I exclaimed, a spark of excitement in my eyes as I made my way to the pantry, ready to gather the ingredients.
"I see we need bread flour, sugar, salt...ugh this pop up ads."
Before I began to bake, I glanced around for an apron and soon found it hanging beside the fridge. Its charming pink gingham pattern added a touch of cuteness that perfectly suited the kitchen atmosphere.
I put it on and tied it tightly, the fabric cinching at my waist and creating a flattering silhouette.
With everything I needed spread out on the counter, I started on the roux. It was the base layer, like the opening lines of a melody, promising something soft and perfect to come. I whisked together flour, water, and milk in a small saucepan, letting the mixture thicken until it held its form with each stir. It felt like alchemy, watching that simple blend transform, becoming the heart of my bread. Setting it aside to cool, I prepared the next step, feeling a quiet sense of anticipation.
I paused momentarily to cue up some music on my phone. As always, I found myself drawn to the timeless allure of classical compositions.
In a large mixing bowl, I combined bread flour, sugar, and salt. I added the yeast, keeping it away from the salt at first, knowing they weren't quite friends. Then I poured in the cooled roux, the warmed milk, cream, and one beaten egg. As I began mixing, the ingredients came together into a rough dough, still somewhat unruly but promising.
