Earth Outdoor Paradise
Getting out of that real healing shopping mall was no easy feat. My hands were full with figure boxes and snack sets, while Im Nana was struggling to hug a bear plushie bigger than herself. Could she even see where she was going? “Heave... ho... Areum, am I going straight?”
“Nope. You're about to French-kiss that utility pole. Veer left.”
“Mmph...!”
Im Nana wobbled as she turned, looking like a giant bear lumbering around on two legs—a truly bizarre sight. Passersby glanced over and burst into laughter.
“Haa... We can't keep lugging this around. Should we drop it off at the hotel?”
“The hotel's so far... and no taxis in sight.”
Fair point—hailing a cab with all this stuff would be a nightmare. That's when Rika, leading the way, clapped her hands.
“Then leave it at my place?”
“For real?”
“Yeah! You couldn't take this on a plane anyway, right? Gotta ship it internationally. I'll send it later!”
She was our savior. Come to think of it, Rika's family restaurant was nearby in the city.
“Phew... saved.”
“Thanks, Rika. You literally rescued us.”
“Aw, no biggie. Now that we're lighter, shall we head out again?”
With our loads gone, we stepped back into the street. My body felt lighter, but my mental fatigue lingered. The whack-a-mole trauma and shuttle service aftermath had worn my mind and soul to the bone.
'Healing... I need real healing.'
I craved true peace for my heart. As we trudged along, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention—a familiar, heart-pounding logo. An orange flame intertwined with a tent in a simple design.
“...Huh?”
My feet stopped on their own. I turned to check the sign.
EARTH OUTDOOR
That was...
“Rika, what's that place?”
“Hm? Oh, that? It's a pretty famous outdoor chain in Japan. They sell camping gear and stuff...”
“Camping gear...!”
Japan. Sadly, I had to admit it: their camping culture was way more advanced than Korea's. Their boom hit earlier, and they'd maintained it better. That meant rare items hard to find in Korea, or brand-new imports not yet available stateside, were probably stocked to the gills inside.
My weary cells stood up and cheered in unison. This was it. This was the true healing I'd been seeking.
“Let's go.”
“Huh? Where?”
“There. We have to go.”
I bolted toward the entrance without waiting for their replies, drawn like a moth to flame. I heard Im Nana and Rika scrambling after me in confusion, but my ears were deaf to everything. Only the whispers of the 'gear' beyond that door reached me.
Ding-a-ling-.
The cheerful bell rang as I pushed open the door.
“(Welcome-!)”
The staff's energetic greetings echoed through the store. And then, the sight before me.
“......”
My jaw dropped. It was huge. Far bigger than any major Korean store, packed floor to ceiling with camping gear—densely arranged yet impeccably organized. Tents and tarps dangled from the ceiling in vibrant colors, backpacks and sleeping bags lined the walls by hue. In the center, showroom setups mimicked real campsites, tempting me to plop into a chair for some prime fire gazing right then and there.
The faint, new-gear scent wafting through the air. Mmm... yes! This is it!
My chest swelled with emotion. The fatigue from moments ago vanished, dopamine surging. This was paradise on earth, a Peach Blossom Spring.
My name is Yamamori Saika. 27, single, no boyfriend. I started as a part-timer after high school and somehow climbed to store manager. At first, it was just a job, but camping hooked me hard—now I blow half my salary on gear.
Another peaceful afternoon. Slow customer traffic had me propping my chin on the counter, dozing off, when—
Ding-a-ling-.
I snapped upright.
“Welcome!”
Three women entered. Sleep vanished in an instant.
'Whoa... what? Celebrities?'
The black-haired woman in the middle wore a simple hoodie, but her beauty was undeniable—an overwhelming visual that lit up the air around her. The short brown-haired and blonde women beside her were stunners too.
'Influencers? Here to film?'
I watched tensely. But... the black-haired one acted oddly. Normal customers gawk at the size or head to cute knick-knacks. Not her. She froze at the entrance, slowly scanning the store with sharp eyes, like mapping layout and flow. Then she strode in, stopping at displays.
Instead of picking things up, she framed rectangles with her fingers, like checking compositions. Nodding approval or frowning and shaking her head.
'...What’s she doing?'
Someone tugged my sleeve.
“Senior...”
It was Sugamoto Yuu, my year-one junior. Fresh from college, he'd joined for his camping passion. Quirky at times but usually sharp and diligent—our ace. Now his face was pale as a ghost.
“What’s up, Sugamoto? Stomachache?”
“No, it's... that customer. She's weird, right?”
He nodded toward the black-haired woman.
“Huh? No way, Sugamoto. Don't judge customers like—”
“No, listen! She's not even looking at products. She's checking display conditions, lighting, flow—with that gaze.”
He whispered.
“No way. Probably just thorough.”
“No! Didn't you see her check lantern angles and shake her head? Now she's eyeing tent angles! Normal customers don't nitpick display aesthetics!”
Now that he mentioned it... Her moves were pro-level. Inspecting tent stitching, flicking poles to test material by sound.
Then, a chilling memory hit.
“W-Wait... 'that' season...?”
Twice a year, HQ sent unannounced inspectors to evaluate store conditions and service. And it was this month.
“But she's odd. Usually we don't spot them, or they're average middle-aged guys.”
“Trap...? Disguise?”
Sugamoto gulped. Then, a voice from afar.
“This is way cheaper than in Korea? Jackpot.”
Korean. Relief washed over me.
“Phew... Korean tourists. Just visitors.”
But Sugamoto shook his head.
“No, senior.”
“Huh??”
“Remember the rumor? An exec from the Korean branch returned to HQ.”
“Ah...?”
“Using Korean so we can't understand. And those sharp eyes... no tourist has eyes like a super supervisor hunting flaws!”
Every move screamed suspicious. We couldn't ignore her. If inspector, negligence would dock points. Time for top-tier service.
“Sugamoto.”
“Y-Yes!”
I gripped his shoulders solemnly.
“Go.”
“...Pardon?”
“Show peak hospitality. You're our ace.”
“B-But you're the manager...”
“Go! It's you!”
“W-Wait, senior—!”
I shoved him hard. Sorry, junior. Rookies handle the crap, aces tackle the risks. I slipped behind the counter, praying for his success.
“Insane... this place is insane.”
Exclamations poured out nonstop. Heaven for sure. Tents that caused stock shortages in Korea were pitched by type; rare lanterns only via direct overseas shipping piled high.
But the real shocker? Prices.
“This... for 5,000 yen?”
A titanium mug going for 100,000 won online was under half here. Local pricing—no tariffs, shipping, or margins. Eyes spinning.
'Want this, want that...'
If my wallet allowed, I'd buy out the store. I zipped around like teleporting, east to west, inspecting gear.
Displays were flawless too. Lighting angled to spark desire, items sorted by color.
'Pros. Owner must know camping.'
Nodding in admiration, someone approached cautiously.
“(Um... miss?)”
A young male staffer, stiff as a new recruit—hands clasped, back straight.
“(Looking for something specific?)”
Japanese, obviously. I turned to Im Nana, mute as a fish.
She translated: “Areum, he asks if you're looking for anything.”
“Oh, really?”
“You were zipping around so... enthusiastically, he thought you were hunting something.”
...Did she almost say 'maniacally'? Imagination? Fine, guilty.
“Hmm... well...”
I named my fave brand.
“Snow Peak. Where's the Snow Peak section?”
Im Nana relayed: “(She's looking for Snow Peak products.)”
His eyes lit up.
“(Ah! Snow Peak! Right this way!)”
Relieved, he guided us. Deeper in, a dedicated Snow Peak zone appeared.
“Gasp...”
Breath caught. Lineups unseen in Korea: tents, tarps, chairs, tables, cookware—all perfectly set.
Craved diving into a tent, but staff watching—keep dignity. I stroked my chin sternly, scanning.
“Hoh...”
Then, eyes locked: center display, a small lantern gleaming ethereally.
'That... the LED lantern I wanted!'
Over 150,000 won retail in Korea. Price tag?
¥ 8,800
“...?!”
8,800 yen? Under 90,000 won even at current rates. Half off. Hands trembled. Must buy. Not buying = crime.
As I lifted it, teary-eyed, the staffer launched into fervent explanation.
“(Miss! Excellent taste! New model—30% better battery than previous!)”
Im Nana live-translated: “Battery lasts forever.”
“(Silicone shade: drop-proof. Full daily waterproof!)”
“Tough, water-resistant.”
“(Best: mode switch! Flickering candlelight for romantic camp nights! My top rec!)”
“Pretty light. He strongly recommends.”
Hey? He said a lot, but...?
Sweating bullets, he poured passion like his job depended on it.
'...Super friendly.'
Usually just 'nice,' but full specs? Japanese service culture rocks. Touched—once by price, twice by zeal.
I nodded. “I'll take it.”
Im Nana translated; his face bloomed.
“(Thank you! Wise choice! Fresh from stock!)”
90-degree bow, then dashed to storage. Watching him: 'Give that guy a bonus.'
Checkout done, exiting—spotted [Customer Feedback] box by door. Praise moves whales to dance. Deserves it.
“Rika, one favor?”
“Yeah? What?”
“Write a praise card in Japanese.”
“Ooh, got it! What to say?”
“Um... 'The male staff was very kind and professional. Thanks to him, I bought a great product.'”
Rika nodded, penned it carefully, and dropped it in.
“Done! Let's go?”
“Yeah. Time for real sightseeing.”
Bags in hand, we left. Wallet lighter, heart fuller than ever.
“Haa... so happy.”
This is healing.
“Thank you! Come again!”
Customers gone, Sugamoto nearly collapsed.
“Haa... haa... thought I was done for...”
Legs jelly, back soaked in cold sweat. I peeked from counter.
“G-Gone?”
“Y-Yes...”
“Great job, Sugamoto! You're our ace!”
I rushed over, patting his back.
“How was it? Real inspector vibe?”
“Definite. That lantern gaze... scanned finish in 0.1 seconds. No ordinary skill.”
He shuddered.
“Nodded at my explanations like scoring: 'Manual down pat.'”
“Eek... scary.”
“But seemed satisfied. Bought something.”
“Good. Purchase means service approval?”
We sighed in relief. Sugamoto grinned shyly.
“Um... senior. I handled the big one today...”
“Yeah?”
“After shift... dinner?”
“...Sure.”
And watching it all: the 'real' HQ super supervisor.
“Hm... excellent store. Such hospitality to foreigners, even upsell. Impressive.”
He scribbled evaluations. Then reached into [Customer Feedback]. Just one card—rarely used, fine.
Unfolded it.
The male staff member was very kind and professional. Thanks to him, I bought a great product. —Korean Tourist
“Hm... this employee's promotion material.”
Of course, Sugamoto never knew.