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As I prepared to head to the office, I took another look at the thing tucked against my chest. My resignation letter. Any office worker probably carries one of these around in their heart. Like a lottery ticket you haven't checked yet.

How are a lottery ticket and a resignation letter the same? I think they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are. Before you check the lottery numbers, you're full of hope. And as long as you can imagine tossing that resignation letter whenever you want, you're happy too. They both lead to disappointment once reality hits—that's the common thread, as far as I'm concerned.

I had zero intention of hurling it in the manager's face today. He'd treated me well enough; that kind of stunt was for real thugs. I planned to hand it over politely and leave.

"Whoa, Assistant Manager Choi! Your vacation's over?"

"Yeah."

The female office workers greeted me like long-lost friends, even though I'd already told them about Seon-woo's shop. Come to think of it, their skin was insanely good. After basking in that brief moment of bliss surrounded by them, I headed to the manager's office.

"Manager, here."

He didn't even check what I was handing him.

"So it's come to this, huh?"

He'd expected it? I must've had that look on my face.

"It's better to quit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when you become a gate owner."

He knew that too? Guess my expression gave it away again.

"You need to work on hiding your feelings. You weren't like this before. Anyway, thanks for saving me that day in front of the office. I'll consider you a lifelong benefactor. Wait, or is the watermelon the real hero?"

"You remember?"

I was genuinely shocked—not that he'd figured out I was a gate owner, but that he remembered the incident at all.

"Bits came back while I kept eating the watermelon. Weird, right? No one else remembers a thing. Any idea why?"

"You probably don't want to know."

"Fair point. Knowing too much isn't always a blessing. Congrats, though. On becoming a gate owner."

"How'd you know?"

"Eggs, watermelons, pineapples—no one's heard of those coming from other gates. I've got connections."

"What about the other employees?"

"Nah, maybe Section Chief Kang at most. But he's tight-lipped; won't blab."

"I figured. I've been agonizing over it."

"Makes sense. Still, the watermelons..."

"My friend will keep selling them at his shop. As watermelon juice now, so you can grab that. Even once a week should keep your pride intact."

"Ahem! I always knew you were destined for big things."

Considering my behavior lately, it wasn't surprising he'd pieced it together. The silver lining? I was his lifesaver and his watermelon supplier, so he wouldn't spill to outsiders.

"Planning to work only in the gate from now on?"

"Probably. Kinda feels like a waste, though."

"What does?"

"I was thinking of making pet food. My gate's materials are top-tier. Figured I could start a company for therapeutic feed..."

"Hold up—you mean starting a business?"

"Yeah, I considered it. But doing it here means disclosing sources, which I'd rather avoid."

"Hmm..."

The manager pondered long and hard before speaking.

"What if we set up a subsidiary for therapeutic pet food?"

"Pardon?"

"We'll invest. No meddling in operations, though. We'd split shares—say, us at 30%, you at 70%?"

I blanked out for a second. Why go that far? And does he even have the pull?*

"You really need to manage your expressions. Doubting my pull? The company owner is my brother."

"Whoa! You're seriously tight-lipped—I just realized."

I'd had no clue. No rumors even. And he'd risen from the bottom—no parachute. Competent, too. Old-school, sure, but he owned his mistakes. Cool boss. And loaded background? Who knew.

"Haha, I am. As a subsidiary, no need to disclose sources. Everyone knows we contract with gates anyway."

Solid plan. But one nagging question.

"Why go that far?"

"Feels like something huge is coming. We'll just hold shares; you run it. Oh, use our brand?"

That'd be easiest—no entry barriers. Recovery feed was already flying off shelves. Adding therapeutics? No eyebrows raised. I'd offload gate surplus naturally. My whole reason for a company was processing excess gate goods anyway. Hard to refuse.

"We'll list you as on dispatch. Full salary. You were gonna front someone anyway, right?"

"Yeah, my dad's a retired businessman."

"Perfect. Sound good?"

"Irresistible. I'll check with him. Probably a go."

"I'll report to my brother properly. He eats the watermelons too. Haha."

Came to resign, left with a startup. On someone else's dime.

Father returned from Gapyeong that evening. Si-yeon looked glum—probably bummed about suddenly leaving her friends.

"The village elders okay?"

"Fine. Gave 'em Brann chickens and plenty of island boar. They're full of vim."

Stuff we'd packed for him. Glad it perked up the village.

"Earthquakes weren't just us. Weird stuff everywhere."

"Yeah, I saw."

As Father said. Not just our bad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠luck—global anomalies. Snow at the equator, non-volcanoes erupting. Small mercy: no glacier melts. That'd be catastrophe.

Oddly, minimal casualties despite it all.

"Oh, and at the office..."

I recounted the manager chat. Father nodded—let's do it. So we decided on a subsidiary for therapeutic pet feed.

If the gate—or whoever sent it—wanted its goods in the world, this was efficient.

"Si-yeon's disappointed."

"Sudden transfer? Yeah."

She'd aimed to be school's justice warrior. No overkill, but dreams shattered—not thrilled.

"Go see her."

"Sure."

I knocked on Si-yeon's door. Knock knock.

"Come in."

She was scribbling in a notebook.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Rethinking my concept."

"Concept?"

"I was gonna be the school's justice apostle, remember?"

"Yeah. But wasn't it super peaceful?"

"Exactly. Problem. Even thought about nurturing villains to fight."

I gave her a deadpan stare.

"Just a thought! Promise."

"No time to act anyway. So?"

"New concept: Transfer Student Typhoon!"

"Isn't that plagiarism?"

"Huh? From what?"

"Anyway, flip the school Day One?"

"Duh."

"Si-yeon."

"Yeah?"

"Let's GED it."

"..."

"Why wreck a chill school?"

"Kinda villainous, huh?"

"Totally."

"Fine. Oh, take Hoya."

Hoya eyed her pitifully, but she was oblivious.

"No work? Gate up, grind smithing."

"Can I go without you?"

"When'd I say no?"

"Right."

"Skip the forest, though. Tough nuts there. Can't level more anyway."

"Got it. Beauty Blacksmith over Typhoon Transfer."

She bolted to the gate. Father and Mother followed. I double-checked locks, then entered.

Father tended cows; Si-yeon hammered away. She'd outlevel me in smithing soon. Mother...

"Huh? What's that?"

"This? Clothes from the fabric you made on that loom."

Modified hanbok style. Mom had hidden talent.

"Whoa, sellable? Your design..."

"Copied."

"Ah, gotcha."

Fine if not selling. But the item itself?

"Insane..."

"What?"

"The stats."

"Stats? It's just hanbok."

"I mean..."

I explained; Mother gawked. Bulletproof? Stab-proof? This shreds them. And pain reduction? Wearing it dulls pain. Chronic sufferers benefit? Fabric's doing? Or Mother's skill? Her sewing was Lv. 5.

Experiment needed. Jackpot either way.