Chapter 0
Chapter 0
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: I'll Heal at the Academy Convenience Store
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Who Am I? "29-Year-Old Convenience Store Owner"
A nondescript convenience store smack in the middle of Seoul. About 800 square feet of space, just your standard franchise you could find anywhere.
"Young-jin."
"Yes, Boss."
"Boss? Call me bro."
"...Haha. Right, bro. What's up?"
Me, working part-time there for three years now. Fiery youth Yi Young-jin hurried over at the boss's call.
"It's not even shift change. What's going on?"
"Lock the door for a sec and come to the back office."
I followed orders faithfully and headed to the office, where bro looked me up and down from his chair.
"Door's locked, bro."
"Good. Easier to talk without customers interrupting... Anyway, Young-jin, how old are you this year?"
"...Twenty-nine by international age."
"Look at this punk gritting his teeth and denying thirty."
"Hey, come on. I am twenty-nine. It's a stressful number as is—why rub it in?"
"Fine, got it. Anyway, you'll hit three years next month, right?"
"Yeah."
"You've stuck it out a long time, man."
"Thanks to you, bro. What else?"
I'm what you'd call an orphan in the common sense.
Graduated high school, took five million won, and headed to Seoul. Grabbed a studio with a two-million deposit and thirty thousand monthly rent, then worked whatever jobs came my way.
I confidently claim there's nothing I haven't tried.
Then at twenty-six, a herniated disc hit, and after barely scraping by, I finally settled at this convenience store.
The convenience store is my heart's hometown. My oasis.
No foreman nagging me to show up, no back-breaking loading and unloading, no coworkers giving me side-eye about drinks after work.
Just come in the morning, clean, stock shelves, greet customers, work till shift change, then head home.
This is true peace and leisure, contentment in simplicity, isn't it?
I worked hard, and the boss— just a few years older, neighborhood bro vibe—made it genuinely comfy.
"...Hmm."
"What's up?"
"Nah."
Bro stared at me intently, then opened his mouth like he'd made a tough call.
"Young-jin, you got no dreams?"
"Dreams? Like the pollock roe mayo triangle on clearance today?"
"...No, not that. Jeez."
Bro scratched his head furiously. What's with him? Skip shampoo today?
"Three years, no incidents, great with customers, handles complainers like a pro, never messed up the register, cleans spotless, neat displays, preps delivery app orders on the spot..."
"Ha, the ace convenience store enthusiast of our hood. No one else like me."
"Never late from drinking... You still playing that game?"
"D/Z SAGA? Yeah, still grinding it to death. Hunting a new route this time."
"...Right. And your hobby's clinging to one trash game for life."
"Hey now, no badmouthing."
"......"
What're you staring at?
It's not total garbage.
Okay, it's trash, but still. After ten thousand hours, doesn't that earn some respect?
"Anyway, that's why I'm torn."
"About what?"
"I'm heading to Australia this time."
"...Huh? You go all the time."
"No, not like that."
I tilted my head. Australia? Why? Skiing in Melbourne again?
If it's a vacation, I'd cover double shifts no problem.
...No.
The vibe's off.
Thinking about it, he wouldn't call me in suddenly for chit-chat.
"Uh, going like..."
"Immigration. For good."
"Ah, got it."
I nodded. Fired, huh. Can't be helped.
Part-time life changes with the boss's whims... Three years is a solid run.
"I'm tying up loose ends before I go... but you're the one sticking in my mind."
"Why? I'll manage fine on my own. Grind that trash game you mentioned for a month or two, find another gig. Easy."
"...No, Young-jin."
"Yeah, bro?"
"Ever thought of taking over this store?"
"...Pardon?"
This I didn't see coming.
What, some prank cam sweet deal?
"Folks in the neighborhood come specifically for your face, and sales are plenty to live off solo, right?"
"...Yeah. Not a goldmine, but enough profit for two part-timers."
"Exactly. So take it over. I'll let it go cheap."
"...Why so sudden? Immigration or fleeing?"
"Fuck off, punk."
"Sorry, Boss."
We locked eyes and chuckled.
"...Well, I'm not hurting for cash. Once I'm in Australia, twenty years minimum before I return. Tying everything up, but you kept popping into my head."
"Why step on me like that."
"So you won't take it?"
"Step hard and go."
"Punk. Sharp-tongued to the end. Anyway, I'll match the key money fair. Give it a shot."
"...Me, boss?"
"Why not? Scared? The mighty Seongbuk-dong convenience master Yi Young-jin backing down?"
"...Hah, what do you take me for? Fine, I'll do it. Bro, hit up Baemin from Melbourne when you're bored skiing. I'll hook you up."
"...Hah, punk."
Bro covered his face, giggling like it was the funniest thing, and I laughed along.
It'd start with debt, but ironically, the transfer price matched what I'd saved almost exactly.
Dirt cheap, probably a favor to me.
"...Hah. Yi Young-jin, from enthusiast to owner."
"Who has managers at convenience stores these days?"
"Ha, anyway... Haha."
"Crying?"
"Nah. Manly Yi Young-jin, burning heart evaporating tears..."
"......"
"Be right back."
"Go ahead."
Signed the preliminary contract, stepped out with chest puffed. Stretched my painkiller-dependent back easy, gazed at the sky.
Dancing hip-hop so no one spotted my tears. Walked the street like that.
And
Screeeech!
Bam!
"Gah!?"
Vision blurs. Body floats away, indescribable pain and weightlessness consume me.
Thud!
Body hits headfirst, bounces once more, then splats on the ground.
Fading sight desperately latches onto what hit me.
And.
"Fuck..."
Fiery youth, twenty-nine years old, Yi Young-jin.
Struck and killed by our store's delivery truck on the cusp of thirty.