Big Mart Day Out
It's the weekend.
If you ask what's different about it, honestly, nothing much for me. Ever since the awakening accident, I haven't been going to school, I don't have a job, and I'm scraping by on support money. Monday or Saturday—my day's structure is identical either way.
Wake up, Kong-i's meal, Heukgu's meal, dishes, nap, convenience store, Kong-i's meal, Heukgu's meal, dishes, bedtime.
Repetition. Infinite repetition. Life's just one big loop.
But there's one reason the weekend still feels different.
Lots of people.
Weekdays around the university are dead quiet, but weekends? Population boom. Convenience store bench is occupied, lines at the street food joints, couples strolling arm-in-arm down the sidewalks.
I don't hate the vibe, but shopping gets annoying. Checkout lines drag on forever. Bring Kong-i along, and she gets bored tugging at my pant leg—a silent protest.
So today, I switched it up.
The large mart.
I don't usually go. It's a trek, and the neighborhood mart and convenience store cover everything. But Kong-i needs more clothes, Heukgu's out of food and could use the bulk size, and honestly? I wanted to show her a world beyond the convenience store. It bugged me that her entire universe was boxed in between our 7-pyong one-room and those two blocks to the store.
Three bus stops to the mart. The issue? Heukgu.
"Heukgu."
I stood at the entryway, looking down at him. He looked up. Tail wagging gently. He thought we were going together.
"Stay home today."
Tail freeze.
"No dogs allowed in the mart."
Tail droop.
"Be back soon."
One centimeter revival.
"For real."
Three more centimeters.
Not a lie. Though "soon" at a large mart isn't the same unit as "soon" at the convenience store. Didn't mention that to Heukgu.
Kong-i was at the entryway, slipping on her shoes. Pink socks under sneakers. She's gotten faster at it. At first, she couldn't tell left from right—always backward. Now it's only one in three times. Huge progress.
"Kong-i, we're going to a big store today."
"Big?"
"Yeah. Really big. Bigger than ten convenience stores combined."
Kong-i tilted her head. Ten convenience stores was too abstract for her.
"You'll see when we get there."
We headed out. She grabbed my pant leg. Left hand. Right hand pushed up her sunglasses.
Behind us, Heukgu poked his nose through the door crack. Sniff sniff. A little whine, then the door shut.
...Sorry, Heukgu. I'll get the big bag of food.
Observation Log: Day 32.
Lee Seojin had been tailing Ha Yujin for the thirty-second straight day.
Early on, it was surveillance. Now she called it protection. That's how she wrote it in the reports too. No real change in practice, but swapping the word shifted her mindset a bit. You know how it is.
Tailing at a large mart was a first.
She had the one-room perimeter and convenience store routes memorized. Rooftops, alley corners, opposite cafe windows—fixed vantage points. But the mart? Needed a new plan.
Lee Seojin entered five minutes ahead of Ha Yujin. Grabbed a cart. Pushing one made her look natural. Like a shopper.
Whether a black-coated woman shoving a cart screamed "natural" was another matter.
She activated her comms.
Lee Seojin's eyes narrowed faintly.
She pushed her cart past the fruit section. Park Doyoung was there. Jeans, short sleeves. Sunglasses. Popping a grape like it was his.
"You haven't paid for that."
"Oh, thought it was a sample."
"Samples are over there."
"Gotcha."
Park Doyoung set the grapes down. Cool as ever.
Lee Seojin tracked Ha Yujin's path while pushing forward. Vegetable aisle now. Kong-i clutching the pant leg beside her, poking carrots.
"Target to vegetables. No anomalies."
She muttered into the comms like a soliloquy.
Park Doyoung sidled up. No cart. Cartless wanderers were either clueless shoppers or non-buyers. Neither fit.
"Get a cart."
"Too much hassle."
"This is a tail."
"..."
Park Doyoung fetched a cart. Parked it beside her. Now two people side-by-side, carts in tow, strolling the mart.
"Hey, Seojin."
"Yes."
"Need onions?"
"...Pardon?"
"Gotta fill the cart to blend in."
"..."
Lee Seojin tossed in a bag of onions. Park Doyoung added potatoes. She grabbed tofu. He snagged two triangle kimbaps.
"Where'd the kimbap come from?"
"Mart has 'em too."
"..."
As they walked, Lee Seojin glanced sidelong at Park Doyoung.
Laid-back as always. Slow drawl, shoulders slack like he was nursing an ache, lazy cart push.
Something nagged, though.
His left hand on the cart handle. Index finger tapping rhythmically.
Tap, tap, tap.
Fruits, veggies, now. Steady beat. She knew it was his thinking tic.
Problem was, there was nothing to think about right now.
Tail smooth. Target normal. Mana stable. A thinking tic with nothing to ponder meant... something else on his mind.
"Hunter Park."
"Yeah."
"Are you hiding something from me?"
Park Doyoung's finger stopped.
One second.
Two.
Tap, tap.
No answer.
Lee Seojin didn't press. Not the time or place—mid-tail. And she could guess what his silence meant.
Up to his usual tricks. Like deploying reconnaissance from the rooftop. Act first, report later.
She faced forward.
Ha Yujin heading to meats. Kong-i gripping the pant leg, following.
Lee Seojin pushed. Park Doyoung pushed.
Two carts screaming "not here to shop," to anyone watching.
Beside the meat section was a bright spot.
The floor was different. Not the hard mart tile—soft. Colors everywhere. Red, blue, yellow. Square fences crammed with round playthings. Kids moving inside.
One kid vaulted the fence. Climbed up, slid down. Someone waited below. Arms open. The kid landed in them.
"Mommy!"
The voice was high. Bright. Unlike the other noises in the pen. A calling voice. Calling something.
The woman called "mommy" folded her arms. Wrapped the kid up. Face buried. In clothes. In arms. Gone from sight. Muffled laughter from the embrace.
Kid climbed again. Slid. Arms waiting. Caught again. Laughter.
Repeat.
Climb. Slide. Arms open. Caught.
Arms every time.
Every time.
The hand hung limp.
That hand rose.
Pressed to chest.
Clothes there. White short-sleeve. Kong-i's shirt. The one Ha Yujin bought. With a pocket.
Beneath the hand on her chest, something beat.
Fast.
Didn't know why so fast.
But when the kid in the pen slid down again.
Arms there again.
The beating under her hand sped up more.
There it was.
Every time.
Here...
"Kong-i, wanna play over there? There's a slide."
A voice from above.
Ha Yujin.
The child looked up.
Ha Yujin was smiling.
"No."
"Huh? Really not?"
"No."
Turned away. Grabbed the pant leg.
Holding made it okay. Cloth in hand was okay. Holding tight.
Walked. Because Ha Yujin walked. Followed.
Behind, another kid's laughter.
Voice calling "mommy."
Didn't hear.
Tightened grip on the pant leg.