The Unfamiliar Visitor

The acrid stench of mold stabbed at the tip of my nose. The salty tang of yesterday's braised tofu still lingered in my mouth. Whether it was thanks to the hearty meal filling my belly or this frail body finally hitting its limit, I'd fallen into a deep sleep for the first time in ages.

Bang!Bang!Bang!

"Hey! Han Gyeowol! I know you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in there! Open this damn door right now?!"

A sharp woman's voice brutally shredded the silence of the cramped semi-basement room. The sound, caught in my half-asleep haze, exploded against my eardrums like a bomb. I instinctively curled in on myself and snapped my eyes open. My heart thrashed like mad. This wasn't just the jolt of waking up—it went deeper. The instant I heard that voice, one word burned into my brain: rent.

It was this building's owner, Min Chae-ah. Recognizing her voice sent cold sweat gushing down my spine. The money I'd blown at the market yesterday started screaming through my head in frantic calculations. From 12,400 won: tofu bought, frozen green onions bought... left with just over 8,000 won. Not even a single 10,000-won bill to my name, and now rent collection. It might as well have been a death sentence.

Bang!Bang!Bang!

"You gonna open or not?! You know I got the master key? I'm comin' in anyway?!"

"Ah, hold on! I'm coming! Just a sec!"

I yelled back in a panic and lurched to my feet. My mind was racing, but my scrawny legs wobbled like they had a mind of their own. I threw on the hoodie crumpled on the floor and bolted for the entrance. My brain was full-on panic mode. How the hell do I pay rent with 8,000 won? Promise double next month? No—if she kicks me out now, where the fuck do I go?

Every worst-case scenario tore through my skull. But groggy as I was, my body moved on autopilot from my old habits. The original Han Gyeowol would've panicked first, scrambled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a mask to hide his face if someone called from outside. Me? No time for that. Hell, common sense kicked in: she wants the door open, so open the damn door.

Click. I unlocked it and yanked the door wide. Cold hallway air rushed in, carrying Min Chae-ah's icy vibe with it.

"You little shit... when I call, you come runnin' or..."

The curse died awkwardly on her lips. She stood there in the doorway, arms crossed. Easily over 170cm tall, dressed like a slob. Her eyes were sharp as a predator cornering prey, but right now, they darted around, unsteady and lost.

Her fluster was obvious. This wasn't the usual Han Gyeowol—half his face buried in a mask, head bowed low, mumbling in that pathetic crawl of a voice. No, standing before her was a disheveled-haired boy baring a face so transparently white it gleamed. The overwhelming beauty he'd hidden under that mask—or hidden from himself out of sheer insecurity—was on full, unfiltered display. And this kid wasn't cowering; he stared her down with sleepy, unafraid eyes.

"Who the hell are you, banging on someone else's door like that first thing in the morning?"

My voice came out low and flat. The tone I used back home for pains in the ass. Sure, inside I felt like my heart might burst over those 8,000 won, but what slipped out was plain, sensible curiosity.

Min Chae-ah just gawked at my face for a long beat. Like she'd straight-up forgotten to be pissed. I could feel her eyes tracing every line of my features. But the silence didn't hold.

"You... your face... whatever, that's not the point! Hey! Pay up the rent! You know it's two months overdue, right?"

Her shout yanked me back to reality. Overwhelming beauty? Not my problem. What loomed in front of me was the cliff edge of "balance: 8,000 won."

"Ah... boss. See..."

The indifference evaporated like smoke. Without thinking, I clenched the door handle. Pure instinct from a debtor about to hit the streets.

"Boss, I'm really in a bad spot right now. I'll get it to you as fast as I can. I swear. Just a little time, please."

"Fast as you can? How many times I heard that shit? Your deposit's tapped out for deductions. No payment by end of today, and your crap's hittin' the curb."

She cranked up the volume like she'd regained her fire, but her gaze still hovered oddly over my face, wavering in a weird way. The kid who usually shook and whimpered at the sight of her was now bare-faced and pleading desperately—must've thrown her off.

"Please, just this once. I'll grab a part-time gig right away and pay you. One week—no, three days. Please."

I was all-in, desperate. Getting booted from here was game over. I watched her eyes, pleading as earnestly as I could without looking totally pathetic.

She stared me down for ages, then raked a hand through her hair in irritation.

"Hah, what the hell. You're actin' weird today? You used to not even lift your head around me..."

She trailed off, scanned my face once more. Then sighed and turned away.

"Three days. Flat. Can't pay up then, it won't end with just evictin' your ass. Got it?"

She left that icy warning hanging and stomped up the stairs. I stood frozen in place until the echo of her heels faded. Slam—upstairs door shut. Only then did my legs give out. I gripped the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

"Haa... fuck. I'm really fucked."

The whole thing felt like a dream. Penniless, begging the landlady for a three-day extension. This narrow, dank semi-basement room felt more suffocating than ever today.

I crawled back inside and snatched up my beat-up smartphone. The screen lit up, cracked glass caked in dust.

Need a part-time job. 8,000 won't last a day.

First thing: fired up the job-hunting apps. Alba Cheon-guk and Alba-mon were already installed. Trembling fingers tapped the search bar. But as I scrolled the listings, my brow furrowed. Every single one was off.

"What kinda bullshit is this..."

I checked for normal gigs like warehouses or convenience stores, but male hires were rare. The few that popped up had crap pay or straight-up shady wording mixed in. The rough, physical jobs from my old world were women's territory here, and all that seemed left for guys was kissing ass.

"No way I can do this crap."

I tossed the phone down like it burned me. By my old world's logic, nothing here was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doable. But sitting on my ass wouldn't magic up cash. That three-day time bomb was already ticking.

I grabbed my ratty bag. Apps were one thing—hitting the pavement in person ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might be different. It had to be.

"Gotta go out. Somethin'll turn up."

I glanced in the mirror one more time. Mask? Thought about it, then shoved it in my bag. Hiding now wouldn't fix shit.

I shoved open the iron door and stepped out. Midday sun stabbed my pale skin. Balance: 8,000 won. Time: three days. In this upside-down world, my desperate job hunt was kicking off for real.

I sucked in the cold morning air and slipped out of the alley. The streets buzzed with women just starting their day, striding with purpose. Amid them, I moved to claim my spot.

Where to? Convenience store? Restaurant kitchen? Head spinning, but my feet didn't stop. Being broke didn't mean giving up on survival.

Chin up, I headed for the main drag. Whatever the rules of this mad world, I'd carve my own path. The weight of those 8,000 won pressed heavy in my pocket.

Out on the main street, the scene unfolding before me was still alien. Hulking trucks roared by with stern-faced women at the wheel; roadside billboards showed male models draped in flashy jewelry, flashing shy smiles. Sights I'd taken for granted back home were flipped on their head here.

This is the real deal.

I patted the worn wallet in my pocket again. 8,000 won. In this place, it was my only lifeline to stretch three days.

My chest tightened. Nerves dried out my mouth. Job flyers plastered to street poles were no better than the app—same crap.

I ignored them, trudging on with heavy steps. This weakened body was already screaming. A little hustle and my breath hitched to my throat. But I couldn't stop. Three days from now, when Min Chae-ah pounded that door again, I'd have the rent—or something to sway her—in hand.

I bit my lip hard and headed for the busiest commercial strip. At least there, some tiny niche for my skills might open up.