Chapter 13

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 13

Chapter Title: Let's Go Grab a Drink?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The fat envelope in my pocket.

It was the 5 million won gold day envelope from Eun Ha-min.

After Eun Ha-min's G90 drove off, I hopped on my beloved Abang-i and left the logistics center.

I don't trust myself.

I'm the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kind of idiot who loses stuff all the time, so I avoid carrying cash whenever possible.

'First things first, let's deposit it.'

Holding cash isn't in my dictionary.

Everything has to show up as numbers in my bank account for me to relax.

I headed straight to the bank near the logistics center.

Maybe it was lunchtime, but the place was packed.

Waiting number: 15 people.

"Haa... Gotta wait at the counter, huh."

A deep sigh slipped out.

Normally, I'd just shove the money in the ATM and bounce.

But today, all three machines had red "Under Maintenance" stickers plastered on them, practically sticking their tongues out at me.

They work great when I'm broke, but the second I have cash, they keel over.

No choice—I grabbed a number ticket and parked my butt in a quiet corner seat.

I pulled my phone from my pocket.

'Might as well check reactions to yesterday's upload.'

The comment section was already a warzone.

YouTube comments are always like that, but my channel turns into a fight club way too often.

Proof it's blowing up, right?

Surprisingly, a lot of people admitted to slurping ramen without chewing.

That's a one-way ticket to esophagitis.

'As a true creator who cares about public health, I can't just sit here.'

My thumbs got busy.

I hammered out a heavenly keyboard response.

It was a genuine concern for my viewers and subs.

But the second I refreshed, the toxic replies poured in real-time.

"...These assholes."

I got a little pissed.

Hey, I'm grateful you're helping me make money, but when someone worries about you, you say thanks.

'Just you wait.'

Next video topic locked in.

[Why Swallowing Food Without Chewing Is Bad for Your Health]

Half-assed chewing makes your stomach work overtime, wasting energy. Get sluggish enough, and boom—indigestion.

'Huh? But isn't this straight-up medical advice, not pseudoscience?'

Eh, it'll be fine.

For the bullshit to shine, it needs a horde of truth mixed in.

The ultimate light hides in ultimate darkness, or so the black mage said.

Even I think I'm a genius.

I chuckled to myself while scrolling, then a comment caught my eye.

What?

A gallery? For me?

I used to lurk communities back in the day.

Too busy scraping by lately to even peek, but if there's a gallery for me, I gotta check it out.

Fired up the app and searched.

What to type?

[The Truth of the World Gallery]

Channel name did the trick. Boom, there it was.

For real.

Inside, it buzzed with that newborn gallery energy.

Posts regenerating at warp speed.

Oh, way more praise mixed in than YouTube comments.

Some were calling my vids "sharp satire on modern society."

Interpretation over dream, huh.

It's just nonsense, but they're assigning meaning left and right.

Mood lifted a bit.

Praise makes whales dance, after all.

Hit the post button.

Too lazy to log in—went anon.

Warm and fuzzy closer.

Perfect.

Hit post and waited smugly.

Comments in under a minute.

"No, seriously, it's me..."

F-bombs incoming real-time.

I felt wronged.

The real owner shows up to say thanks, and everyone's calling me a fake.

Makes sense—communities thrive on suspicion and distrust.

Can't let it slide.

Screenshot of my YouTube Studio dashboard.

Reactions exploded.

Questions flooded the gallery in seconds.

Lee Soo-yeon, Eun Ha-min, job inquiries, you name it.

But come on, would I really hire any of you?

That's when it hit.

"Customer 142, please proceed to window 3."

My number.

Shoved my phone in my pocket and stood up.

At the counter, a female teller was handling business.

I plopped the 5 million won envelope down.

"Deposit, please."

"Yes, one moment, sir."

She pulled out the bills, fed them into the counter.

Ching-ching-ching—the count popped up as 500,000 won notes.

"Why are the ATMs down, anyway?"

"Apologies for the inconvenience, sir. The ATM server is under maintenance."

"Ah, so tomorrow it'll be good?"

"Might take a few more days."

Good thing I didn't wait—would've wasted time coming back after work.

Today was my weekly meetup with Lee Soo-yeon.

Like a regular checkup.

Not that I'm the patient.

Our channels are.

Before heading to the spot, I stopped at a gas station.

Time to feed my precious Abang-i.

With some hush money in hand, I figured I'd splurge on a treat.

"Here, guzzle it up. Know how much this costs? Big bro's treating you special."

I muttered while pouring a shot of additive into the tank.

Premium fuel additive.

Should clean the gunk and smooth out the engine purr.

"Sir?"

"Yeah?"

Someone called from the side.

Turned—gas station part-timer.

Female, looked amused by my antics.

Makes sense—talking to your gas cap ain't everyday.

"Oh, no. Just seemed like you really love your car."

She blushed a little.

"First car, so I baby it."

"Lucky. We look about the same age, and you already got wheels..."

"Hm. Don't think we're the same age."

"Early 20s? Insurance must kill you, but you're keeping it up—impressive."

Early 20s?

This kid's got social game.

"Nah, turning 30 soon."

"Huh? Sorry! That was rude..."

She jumped, bowed, face beet red.

"All good. Take care."

"Drive safe!"

Back in the car, I hummed a tune and hit the gas.

One shot of additive, and it felt peppier.

Parked near the cafe meetup spot, walked the rest.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was Lee Soo-yeon.

Sitting deep inside, legs crossed, sipping coffee.

Like a photoshoot.

Guys inside sneaking peeks.

Some straight-up gawking.

'Can't blame 'em.'

Pretty, famous, loaded.

Popularity guaranteed.

Ding-a-ling.

Door chime— she turned.

Her haughty pose melted into a bright smile.

"Min-jae! Over here!"

She waved.

All eyes snapped to me.

"Wait long?"

"Nah, just got here. Sit."

She pulled out my chair herself.

I sat; she propped her chin on the table, reached over.

Gently stroked my cheek.

"Eaten?"

"Not yet. My treat today."

"O? What's the occasion?"

"Got some pocket money."

I shrugged.

Her eyes went wide.

"Pocket money? Lotto?"

"Nah. Well, see..."

Spilled the beans on that evening I hadn't mentioned.

What went down with Eun Ha-min.

Lee Soo-yeon's face cycled through shock, bafflement, then horror.

"5 million won?! From Eun Ha-min?!"

"Yeah. Said she paid me at her hourly rate or something."

She'd been listening intently...

Then pinched my cheek.

"Hey, what?"

"Min-jae, you know you dodged a bullet, right?"

"Huh? From what?"

"You don't know who Eun Ha-min is? Hanbit Group heiress—Hanbit!"

"Eh, seemed normal enough."

Looks aside.

Just another Korean citizen, really.

"One wrong move, and you'd be slaving in some Hanbit underground labor camp mining coal for life."

"That's straight out of some gambling noir flick."

Why the chaebol stereotypes?

She's acting more sus than them.

Hm, or maybe as a high-society gal like her, she knows the dark secrets.

"Sigh, you know zilch about Eun Ha-min. Hope that's a good thing..."

Looked like she had more to say.

But just sighed and pinched my cheek again.

Gently tugged.

"This face saved you. It literally saves lives."

"Praise?"

"Means you're lucky. Anyway, glad nothing went down."

She patted her chest—slight cleavage—and sipped coffee.

Her worry felt nice.

"So? What're we eating? You're a guy—you planned ahead, right?"

"Uh... not really. Nothing comes to mind."

"Fine. I'll pick. Come on."

She stood, grabbed my wrist.

"Today, let's grab a proper drink."