The city has grown quiet behind a veil of masks.

The essentials of daily life—rice, noodles, and protective gear—disappear from the shelves as soon as they are stocked.

Every passerby wears a mask, a visible sign of the caution that now defines our interactions. I, too, feel the physical strain of constant protection, the skin around my mouth weary from the endless dampness of the fabric.

Gold Tuna, daily life during COVID-19 pandemic, social distancing

It is an unprecedented time of unrest.

In Songpa-gu alone, five more cases were confirmed today, bringing the local count to nine. The digital world is loud with maps of movement and traces of the infected.

There is word of a business owner in Munjeong-dong who returned from a hospital in another city. People obsessively check where they went and who they met, gripped by the fear that their paths might have crossed.

The news is dominated by the specific communities where the spread began.

While they surely feel their own sense of misfortune, the weight of the consequences resulting from a lack of caution is a heavy burden to bear.

Regional economies are nearing a state of paralysis.

The streets are empty.

When people avoid meeting one another, the very fabric of society begins to fray. From small local shops to global corporations, there is a collective cry of distress.

Yesterday, the stock market plummeted by 80 points, and major automotive plants have halted production due to broken supply chains.

The impact on Goldtuna is significant.

Last week, we felt a sense of relief as our guests continued to visit us, but this Sunday, the reality of the situation finally arrived.

On Sunday, revenue was 1,000,000.

On Monday, it was 1,400,000.

Today, a Tuesday, we have only a single reservation.

Normally, this is a house where ten reservations are the minimum and empty seats are rare.

We have endured past crises and legislative changes, but this feels different. It is far more severe.

I have always believed I had a talent for solving problems, but this time, there is no simple answer.

This is not a matter that can be fixed through value-based pricing, storytelling, or marketing.

The barrier is a psychological one—a state of collective caution and withdrawal.

Psychological contraction and fear have taken hold. I hope for a swift resolution to this situation.

In the meantime, how should we proceed?

I think of the fox in the old fable.

When faced with grapes he could not reach, he simply told himself they were sour and went on his way. There is a certain wisdom in knowing when to let go and maintaining one's peace of mind.

I will treat this as an opportunity to practice the art of sincere service with even more profound care.

During these quiet hours, we will examine every detail of our food, our environment, and our service to ensure they are beyond reproach.

To mark this shift in perspective, I am changing the music to something more resilient and bright.

A sound to lift the spirit.

Let it begin.

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