Residual Heat!
“Hoo.”
I propped my chin on my hand and stared at the monitor. The jagged graph mirrored my mood perfectly. And right in the middle of it, a shock of white hair partially blocking the screen from behind.
“W-What’re you looking at.”
“Move.”
Her horns completely obscured the view. Kim Yang’s signature perfume wafted over, her hair tickling my nose.
“W-We’re screwed.”
“We’re not screwed.”
“T-Totally fucked.”
“I said we’re not.”
“R-Right?”
“Can you back off? Stop shedding your wool?”
The stock charts were already messing with my head enough without my bored employee poking at me nonstop.
“Hey, it’s not wool.”
And even now, she was warning me about using proper titles. Classic.
“Then what is it.”
“H-Hair.”
“...But y’know, thinking about it, you’re a sheep beastkin—aren’t horns your only feature? No fluff or anything?”
Don’t most have that soft, fluffy stuff? Especially after just consulting with a cat beastkin, I was curious if Kim Yang had any other traits.
Her face flushed red instantly as her hand frantically searched the desk for something to hurl.
“S-Sexual harassment! Y-You! You’re done for—rice paddy prison!”
“...How is this sexual harassment.”
“D-Die!”
Kim Yang snatched a ballpoint pen and chucked it at me, unleashing a torrent of curses. I had a pretty good idea why she was reacting like that, but I decided not to push it further.
Haa, maybe I should quit stocks for real.
If things stayed slow even a little, I’d dive right back into the charts. That’d naturally lead to chain-smoking, and smoking meant wasting health and money. No matter what, it was a vicious cycle of losses.
“Tch—! Tch—!”
Kim Yang huffed and puffed before finally calming down and grumbling as she turned back to her own screen. She was watching an idol dance stage—way too openly in front of the boss.
“Kim Yang, at least pretend to hide it.”
“......”
She glanced my way, then tilted her monitor slightly away. Real smooth.
“Just watch it openly.”
The screen flipped back, now showing an ad. Looked like she hadn’t ponied up for premium.
I thought it was over.
But my senses woke up a beat too late.
The fire went out.
The heat lingered.
The controversial hit shaking all of Cyber City!
The boundary between taboo and emotion!
New film from master director Zeke Fullan.
A romance that explodes in the quietest way!
Overwhelming immersion via S.E.L!
The emotion you thought wasn’t love.
Feel that residual heat in your senses.
<Residual Heat>
Seoul Cinema.
Now playing to rave reviews.
“Oh.”
I let out an impressed sigh watching the trailer, but Kim Yang shot me a side-eye and wrinkled her nose.
“Y-You into this stuff? A-An affair movie?”
“What’re you talking about. I know the actor.”
“A-Actor?”
Kim Yang froze on the screen where the actor appeared. I pointed at the male lead.
“James. One of Meracle’s earliest clients. Came in as a nobody actor, left with a great match.”
“B-But an affair movie?”
“It’s his job.”
“W-Well, yeah.”
She nodded and went back to the trailer. I watched along from the side—kind of meaningful, really. On screen, he was playing a protagonist agonizing in a messy situation.
“James back then was forced into marriage by his parents’ nagging. The matchmaking agency on 6th Floor wouldn’t take him—they’re super picky.”
“R-Really?”
“He happened to come to 3rd Floor, saw our flyer. Matched him cheap back then.”
Good times. We only had the basic membership tier at that point.
In the middle of our chat, a pink head wedged between us.
“Ooh? A movie! This lady has seen it too!”
“Pardon?”
“Won a convenience store bento coupon! Got to watch for free!”
Renea boasted proudly, vacuum in hand. Seeing a movie wasn’t that big a deal, but Kim Yang even clapped lightly. Like praising a grandma for mastering the kiosk.
“Ooh. A-Amazing.”
“Ahem!”
“W-What’d you see?”
“Theater edition Toribot! Arctic Penguins’ Counterattack!”
Event ticket for kids’ stuff, and our 1,902-year-old grandma snagged one. Glad she enjoyed it.
“The huge screen made it so magical.”
Renea marveled at the theater, but sadly, this trailer wasn’t that kind of flick.
“Don’t you see? It’s shot in Cell.”
“Cell...?”
S.E.L (Sensory Experience Link). Basically VR hologram tech that lets you indirectly experience someone’s emotions and memories.
“This is totally different from regular movies. How to put it... It tickles your heart directly?”
That’s why 3rd Floor only screens real blockbusters with it. 6th Floor’s insanely conservative on tech leaks, so only one theater in Seoul can project Cell.
“Simply put, the audience becomes the protagonist and experiences it firsthand.”
“Is that so? Then could this lady become Toribot too?”
“What would you even do then.”
“......”
I left Renea pondering seriously what she’d do as a kids’ toy. Kim Yang, now intrigued by Cell, looked amazed.
“R-Reviews are good. Sh-Should we go?”
Cyber City hits only come to 3rd Floor after succeeding, so no mines to step on.
“Go where.”
But the price was the real bomb.
“Know how much that costs? 100,000 won per viewing. Per person.”
“Meeeh?!”
Why the sudden sheep freakout? Because I said she didn’t have sheep traits earlier?
“Cheaper on 6th probably. But on 3rd, prices gotta be higher.”
Like tariffs. Especially high-end Cell gear comes as rentals, not purchases.
“T-Too expensive.”
“Right? Better wait for OTT. How great can Cell be.”
Speaking of, I’d never tried it myself. Reviews were solid, but whatever.
Like enjoying jjajangmyeon—why bother taste-testing sweet-and-sour pork? Just makes your palate picky.
Right on cue, a ping from Raichen.
A customer in the lobby. I tapped Kim Yang’s back and nodded toward it.
“Go on.”
“D-Don’t slack off on me.”
“Go. Don’t want your paycheck?”
“Ah! B-Boss. Y-You sent the wrong salary.”
“......”
“P-Pro-motion old pay. W-Wanna die?”
She clenched her fist, pulled her face back, and revved up for a headbutt.
“Auto-transfer glitch. I’ll add more.”
“N-Now. Y-You go, boss.”
“Damn it.”
No choice—my screw-up on the salary.
“V-Victory!”
“Yay!”
Leaving the cheering duo behind, I headed to greet the next customer.
* * *
Next day. Morning routine: smoke one, check stocks, curse a bit. Sat back down to skim articles—and cursed again.
“What bullshit.”
Pulling aggro this hard? The James I knew was too timid for affairs. These reporters had gotten scary good at baiting my clicks. Knew it was clickbait, but had to check anyway—that journalist was a pro.
“Whoa.”
Heard people are unpredictable, but not like this. Just reading the hate comments stressed me out—I closed it.
“Tch.”
Leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Fresh from a smoke, but craving another already. Weird feeling.
Of course, no article confirmed an affair. But the so-called “evidence” pics were kinda gross.
“Sigh.”
Emotions can’t always stay hot. Tempting opposite sex might shake anyone. Feelings defy reason sometimes.
But acting on it? That’s a no-go.
“Bittersweet.”
A couple I matched, ending like this? The heaviness wouldn’t lift, so I headed out again.
“S-So. I’ve got nowhere else to go—”
Down to 2nd Floor lobby: Renea cleaning, Raichen awkwardly greeting a customer. Familiar face.
White base, blue dobok. Neatly tied hair. Sword at waist. Namgoong family crest.
“Namgoong Yeon?”
Namgoong Yeon, now living in Cyber City, spotted me and bowed with a clasped-fist salute.
“Boss! C-Could you spare a moment?”
“Huh? Suddenly?”
We weren’t a full counseling service.
But he looked distraught and blurted desperately.
“I-I can’t face Jessica at all—!”
“Why? Last I saw, you two were all lovey-dovey.”
First time seeing couple doboks in my life. They’d custom-made matching ones, dating under pretense of teaching her martial arts. Sickeningly sweet.
“I feel like... like I did something terribly wrong!”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing! I’m devoted to Jessica only! But... that’s the problem!”
That?
“Residual Heat! Ever since that damn movie! Guilt’s killing me—I can’t look her in the eye!”