Don't Look for Me (5)
In the bustling streets, Park Chun-ja, the lady running the restaurant for seven years after taking over from her mother, was flustered by the sudden appearance of a foreign woman. Their first encounter was shocking right from the start. Her outfit looked suspicious. But the hunched posture and shuffling gait, with both hands awkwardly stuffed into her pants pockets instead of a hood—it somehow looked oddly comfortable. It gave off the vibe of a middle-aged guy coming in for a meal after his Sunday shift.
Construction workers from the nearby redevelopment project often came for lunch, so she figured it was just a regular customer. As Park Chun-ja, the pro at customer service, was about to flash a smile—that's when it happened. All the items hiding her face vanished, revealing a beauty so stunning she could pass for a model. She looked just like the doll Park Chun-ja had begged her parents for as a kid and barely gotten. To be honest, she was prettier than any drama actress on TV. A foreigner, but someone you'd want to adopt as a granddaughter.
"What about the offal?"
"Gotta take it out. Foreigners don't eat that stuff well."
With a grandmotherly affection for her "foreign granddaughter," Park Chun-ja added her own touches to ensure the first-time sundae gukbap wouldn't shock her. She skimmed off as much pork fat as possible to keep the broth from being greasy. Offal would be tough to eat, so all gone. Even sundae might be too much for a foreigner, so just head meat. Absolutely no dattegi.
The young lady who ordered the sundae gukbap had snow-white skin. Common knowledge: the paler you are, the worse you handle spice. And so, Park Chun-ja's foreigner-granddaughter-optimized custom sundae gukbap was plated up. The moment the server placed it in front of her...
"...Blin."
An incomprehensible word slipped from the beautiful girl's lips.
"Excuse me!"
And a booming call bell rang out—in Korean, no less. Shocked, Park Chun-ja stopped the server and rushed over. No way was it not enough? Despite all the consideration, the foreign girl seemed unsatisfied. As she approached, Park Chun-ja racked her brain. What went wrong? I prepared thoroughly...
"Dattegi, perilla seeds, chives, shrimp sauce."
Park Chun-ja blinked in surprise at the fluent Korean.
"And why is there zero offal?"
For a split second, the lunch-rush construction worker vibe returned in Park Chun-ja's eyes. The girl chattered on with a dissatisfied pout.
"And this broth? It's so bland."
Seeing her so annoyed, she was the picture of a native Korean. That's when Park Chun-ja realized the issue. The customization for a foreigner was the problem. She had come to enjoy authentic Korean sundae gukbap.
"Aigoo... S-sorry about that. I was worried you couldn't handle it, so I took it out... I was being nosy..."
"It's fine, just hurry. I'm starving to death here."
"Right, right. Coming right up."
She hurriedly returned the botched sundae gukbap to the kitchen and relayed the order to the head chef. The server whispered as she approached.
"Whoa, she didn't look like she could speak a lick of Korean, but it's fluent as hell."
"Tell me about it..."
Park Chun-ja thought: If this had been a regular customer? They'd have complained about the state of the food. But she was different. She just calmly scooped two spoonfuls from the sunglasses girl's sundae gukbap broth and waited with a serene expression. This wouldn't do. To make up for overstepping with a customer, Park Chun-ja needed to exercise her authority as owner.
"Hey, tell the kitchen to bring out some jeonbyeong and hoe-muchim."
The server replied with worried eyes.
"Aw, but hoe-muchim's too spicy, right? Super hot."
"Nah."
This blue-eyed girl wasn't your average foreigner. Look closely—she was dipping fresh green chilies in ssamjang and chomping down big bites with the side of baek kimchi, savoring the crunch. Aside from her looks, she was as Korean as they come.
There was a bit of a misunderstanding, but the properly made sundae gukbap was really top-tier. You had to believe the "20-year tradition" and "featured on TV" claims today. The broth was nutty, clean, with no gamey aftertaste, paired with the meat. Fresh chives and well-toasted perilla seeds blended into perfect harmony. And the dattegi? Not just a lump of spicy chili powder. MSG in it? It packed serious umami.
But minus one point for the first impression. So 4 out of 5. I hate special treatment. When they served that watery, bland version—totally different from NumberOrc's—instead of the satisfying sundae gukbap I expected, I half-suspected poison for a second. Stupid, but unavoidable. Ten years of ingrained survival instincts are terrifying. The shock from dashed expectations was secondary, anyway.
...But thinking about it, they threw in hoe-muchim service. Fine, 5 points.
"I'm so full... can't eat more."
"Me too."
With my belly full and heart warm, that's when the inexplicable stuff caught my eye.
"No way you ate with sunglasses on?"
"Yeah."
I wanted to yank off those black shades, but she probably had her reasons. It all started with my nosiness anyway. Meddling always causes problems. The shop owner was nosy, and I'd been nosy with this girl too.
"I'm used to it. A little kimchi spice? I can handle it anytime."
"......"
Impressive, if it's her long suit. Sunglasses spawning more sunglasses from within was bizarre enough, but eating gukbap as "Lüshin"? Unimaginable. And come to think of it, why isn't she fazed by my looks? She's been chill since the bathroom encounter. Like she's used to hanging with foreigners. Wonder what she does that she has to hide like this... but nah.
No need to ask.
Emphasizing again: Not being nosy. No meddling in this suspicious person's life. No getting attached. Every time, it pulls me from normalcy. I'd lose my hard-won peace in a heartbeat.
"I'll head out first. The bill, I'll—"
"No, I already paid."
"Huh? When?"
"Paid when we came in... Why were you trying to pay anyway? Uh, did you not want my token of gratitude as your benefactor? Ah. Of course... I... I'm..."
A gloomy fog gathered around the black-bobbed girl. Classic sign of plummeting self-esteem. I cut her off and shot up.
"Not that. Thanks, it was great."
I bowed and grabbed a peppermint candy, striding out. Then got nabbed outside—by NumberOrc, lips pursed, ears red to match. The oversized sunglasses hid half her face, so I hadn't clocked it, but her voice was surprisingly clear and girlish. Caught off guard, I hesitated.
"Um... that..."
NumberOrc finally spoke, voice trembling.
"Your clothes... they're expensive..."
Embarrassed, I flipped off the hoodie hastily.
"Mommy! We're outside!!"
"Got a tee underneath."
"Ah... still! A girl can't just strip anywhere... no way..."
"What's the big deal? It's not like it'll wear out from looking."
Not like I was naked or anything. And yeah, there was stuff under the tee too—the compromise with my landlady I hated wearing. NumberOrc handed me her hoodie from under the padding. Just a bit in short sleeves, and damn, it was cold. Good thing I ate sundae gukbap.
"See ya. Sunglasses and mask are in the hood."
"Ah, um...!"
"If you're gonna ask my name, pass."
"Huh? But at least your name as my benefactor..."
She'd been quietly chowing down during the meal. So comfy, I even considered inviting her as a new eating buddy. But self-intros are rat poison for me—any deeper ties would likely be toxic. Better cut it clean.
"No need. Who knows if we'll meet again. Take care."
"W-wait. At least your number—"
I turned, and her phone exploded with notifications.
"Ah, what! I'm busy...! Why summon me now— Wait!"
So desperate for my name, NumberOrc stood there long after I vanished down the subway stairs.
Egosurfing wrecks the mind. Felt it plenty back as an internet broadcaster. But people crave their rep, wanna hear it however. That temptation drags you to search your nick, leaving only a barren heart. That's normal egosurfing.
But right now, I couldn't stop for a different reason.
Devoured fresh chilies and raw onions like a champ.
Without the eye color, I'd swear she was a dyed Korean lol
Face was straight-up S-T-I-C-K-Y gorgeous.
Kinda feels like I've seen her somewhere.
A sundae gukbap joint in the crowded downtown I'd normally skip. But I was hungry, and had a dining companion, so impulse choice. And this is the result.
I'm under surveillance everywhere I go. Can't be helped. My looks stand out too much. Amid black-haired, dark-eyed Koreans, natural platinum blonde and clear blue eyes are like carbonara sauce splattered on a black shirt. Thought about dyeing, but can't change eye color. And black hair? It'd mar Ren's perfect form. I love Ren too much. Thinking my fave character came alive in reality, I couldn't touch a single strand.
Excited in the shower? Of course. But it's my body. How amazing could staring at my daily naked self in the post-work shower be? At first, I'd zone out in front of the mirror for an hour or two, overwhelmed. But in under a month, the thrill faded. Kept it up, and blood rushed to my head—painful. But one thing's sure: this body is too beautiful for a 7th-grade Korean lit scorer like me to describe. Lush lashes and sparkling eyes draw people into conflict and obsession. The honed physique is smooth yet firm. Especially the legs. Ren in shorts or skirts flaunts endless length and killer proportions, slamming violent charm into brains. But.
I hate wearing that stuff myself. Hate being forced into it even more. Constant nick changes to dodge eyes. Avoiding landlady Tae-in's outings. Working at a delivery depot full of ajusshis. Sticking to baggy tees, hoodie sets, and baseball caps. All.
To hide my looks from the world. Don't want anyone seeing me dressed up proper. Imagine: rumors fly that Tuhon master "RenMom" actually looks like real Ren? Internet ghosts love spreading that shit, blowing it massive. Where I live. My job. Even my 30-min daily mirror habit— all exposed. So I stay silent, in hiding.
A world where everyone obsesses over Tuhon, pros reap riches and glory. Perfect, if I weren't Ren. Good thing life's futility hit me, or I'd envy top rankers hardcore. Stuck rotting in my room gaming? But it's fine. Tasty food, a meal buddy, games—life's great. Even if Tuhon could net billions yearly. Life ain't about money. It's cozy freedom, secured or not.