The Customer Who Talks Down

I knew better than anyone how hard it was to swallow the words you wanted to say. Kim Jeongyeol was the owner, and I was nothing more than a part-timer.

Honestly, I figured I'd hear at least a word or two.

That he was disappointed. That this put him in a bind. Whatever my circumstances, I was the one who'd broken my promise, and I'd been ready to take whatever he threw at me.

Kim Jeongyeol didn't do any of that. He took the news as if it were nothing at all, and comforted me instead.

"Well, you know how it is these days — plenty of part-timers pull the same thing. They sign on for a year, then vanish after a week. And then they turn around and threaten you if you don't deposit their full wages."

...That wasn't quite the same thing.

"If you've got your reasons, it can't be helped! Just hang in there through the end of this month, that's all I ask!"

"Understood."

Considering it was the beginning of the month, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that still meant three weeks of work. But looking at the kind of man Kim Jeongyeol was, I figured I could concede that much.

"See? There are still plenty of good people in this world, right?"

"How about we try looking on the bright side a little?"

Karina seemed to be making a concerted effort to nudge my thinking toward something more positive.

"Sure, there are plenty of kind, decent people. Hell, if you actually count, the good and gentle ones probably outnumber the rest."

"B-but?"

"A handful of bastards is all it takes to make life hell for everyone else. Like one loach muddying an entire pond."

I finished sweeping the shop entrance and looked up at the sign.

The bar I worked at was no different. Most of the customers who came through here drank quietly, laughed among themselves, and left happy. But the ones who stuck in a part-timer's memory — the ones who made the job genuinely miserable — were always a tiny handful of people.

The ones they called problem customers.

I hoped, at the very least, that this shop Kim Jeongyeol was risking his life to run wouldn't see too many of those. It was the least I could do for him. The bare minimum of respect.

Today, the popularity of Strawberry Pocha 1999 could only be described as staggering. Official opening was ten in the evening, but the moment the doors unlocked, customers came pouring in. And once the people outside caught a glimpse of the atmosphere, they just kept coming.

The ones dying for it — besides me — were the other part-timers around my age.

"Haa, fuck... are there seriously this many people tonight?"

"I'm actually gonna die."

The shop was so loud that you shouldn't have been able to hear anyone more than a few feet away. And yet I picked out every voice as if they were standing right next to me.

Just how good had my hearing gotten?

"Ha, shit. This many customers and of course the asshole ones start showing up too. What, am I his fucking friend? Some guy pounding beer and fries, and instead of even politely asking for more complimentary snacks, he just waves his hand at me like, 'bring it.'"

"Heaven's way of telling us we should never, ever become that kind of customer."

The part-timers were exhausted enough that profanity had become a permanent fixture of their vocabulary.

A customer using informal speech, huh. There were definitely a few of those.

Most customers were polite enough when they ordered. But every now and then you'd get some worthless adult who'd decided that being older — or that most of the staff were underclassmen — gave them the right to toss out orders in casual, dismissive speech. It happened even more often to the female part-timers who looked like they wouldn't push back.

"Hey, quit complaining and get back to work. The kitchen's probably dying right now."

"Yeah..."

That was one of the reasons Strawberry Pocha was so popular. Even the cheapest dishes came in huge portions, and they were cheap. And the reason that was even possible...

"Alright! Hey, stop chatting and get the spicy braised chicken to table four!"

"Yes, sir!"

...was that Kim Jeongyeol handled more than half the cooking by himself.

"He's really something, isn't he?"

"Earlier I saw him — when someone ordered a dish we'd run out of ingredients for, he even asked the customer if they really wanted it. Said he'd run to the supermarket himself and be right back."

"He's an impressive man."

2025. People said it was a world where even graduating college and landing a normal job had become nearly impossible. A world where conflict had gotten so extreme you could barely look the person next to you in the eye. A world drowning in negative assessments of every kind.

And yet looking at a man like Kim Jeongyeol, you could tell: the ones who were going to make it would make it anyway.

Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong!

That said, I understood why everyone was groaning. The customers were especially thick tonight. I approached a table that had been ringing the service bell not once, but over and over. I'd been able to tell, without anyone saying it, that the other part-timers were avoiding this guy.

"Is there something you need?"

"The hell is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this kid?"

I'd like to ask him the same thing. He'd hit the bell, I'd come over, and that was the first thing out of his mouth.

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"What the hell is that guy's problem?"

"Ah, whatever. Just refill this."

He shoved the empty complimentary snack bowl at me, utterly unconcerned with his own rudeness. He was sitting alone at a four-top, and there wasn't much alcohol on his breath — he didn't even seem drunk. This was just who he was. A man who looked down on the basic human dignity of anyone working in a bar.

"Hey! I said refill it. What're you staring at? Don't you know the customer's always right? Look at this kid's eyes. Like he wants to take a swing at me. You want me to call the owner right now?"

This clearly wasn't his first time. The way he flipped it around and threatened a part-timer — even throwing Kim Jeongyeol's name into it — was almost funny.

I'd been planning to let it slide if I could.

This was still a time for patience. A time when unjust laws still outranked raw force. But if I let this go, Kim Jeongyeol would get called over in my place. He'd bow his head and apologize with complete sincerity. Then he'd throw in whatever dish this guy wanted, on the house. And a bastard like this would have no problem ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.

The moment that picture formed in my head, anger boiled up from somewhere deep.

So that's why the other part-timers avoided this guy.

I muttered that to myself, then opened my mouth.

"Hey."

"Hey? Heeey?! This little shit actually has the balls to—"

"Don't talk down to me."

A chill swept through the air.

I still couldn't control my Demonic Energy perfectly, but clearing the first chapter of the Tutorial had taught me this much for certain.

The will to kill, made tangible. In a place where you killed or were killed, failing to grasp Killing Aura would have been the stranger outcome.

"...A-are you threatening a customer right now? Y-you've lost your damn mind. The o-owner..."

His face had gone deathly pale and he was shaking like a leaf, but he still wouldn't drop the informal speech. I clicked my tongue. The old saying came back to me: people don't change.

They really don't change easily, do they.

Even if he'd done his military service, he was still a civilian who'd never been in a real fight for his life. A Killing Aura honed by ending well over a hundred human beings should have made his heart seize in his chest. And yet here he was, clinging to the belief that being a customer meant nothing could happen to him. It was almost impressive.

I stepped a little closer.

"Am I your son?"

"Th-that's not—"

"Then am I your friend? Or do you even know me?"

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to casually twist that pathetic neck of his. I had more than enough strength to do it. If he kept talking down to me this time, I really would...

"...I-I'm sorry. I'll be more careful from now on."

"Lucky you."

I picked up the empty bowl.

"I'll bring your snacks right out. Please wait a moment."

I filled the bowl with colorful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠round crackers, the snacks rustling as they piled up, and from across the room I caught the two female part-timers whispering to each other. There were only two of them on staff.

"Whew, thank god Naengjung went over there."

"Same. I hate that old guy. The guys hate him too. When a guy goes over he picks a fight on purpose, and when a girl goes over he 'accidentally' brushes her fingers when he hands over the bowl."

"That's so— wait, no. That's actually disgusting. Can't we report that?"

"Don't. It'll just be a pain for us. Screaming at each other with a guy like that at the police station doesn't get you anything."

"Yeah, true."

So that was why he'd come at me like that from the start. On the other hand, I didn't get it.

Does he like women that much?

Judging by the fact that he'd ordered a single beer and kept nursing the complimentary snacks, the guy didn't even have money. And he was still doing all this just to touch a young woman? I couldn't understand it.

"Don't men just... like women? That's normal, right?"

"Obviously! Though that piece of shit's method deserves castration at the very least!"

"I wouldn't know."

"Huh?"

"You've held a girl's hand before, haven't you? That soft, warm feeling, the way your chest just starts pounding like your blood's on fire — you seriously don't know that?"

"A girl's hand... come to think of it, other than Suhee, I don't think I've ever held anyone's hand. And when I held Suhee's, all I felt was that she was cute, and that I was sorry."

"Oh shit, we've officially discovered a living cultural treasure — a genuine lifelong virgin! Oof, suddenly I feel so bad for you."

"Wait, did you only go to all-boys middle school and all-boys high school?"

"Both were co-ed."

I just hadn't been in a position to think about things like dating. Come to think of it.

"I've never held a girl's hand, but I have been stepped on by one."

"Hah?! That kind of fetish? Holy crap, that's intense! Hah, hah! Is this the Seed of the Devil talking? I thought you were unhinged from how fast you blitzed that insane Tutorial, but you are genuinely not normal..."

"They laughed at me for being an orphan, played cruel pranks, and then they stepped on me and told me to bark like a dog. Whether I wanted it or not."

"Come on, don't lie."

"What kind of students would do something that vicious? I've run into the so-called troublemakers at the Academy, and even they wouldn't go that far..."

"...Wait. Are you serious? What you just said?"

"Didn't I tell you? I'm not particularly fond of lying."

I brought the refilled snack bowl to the problem customer. Then a brief lull arrived, and I leaned against the wall in a corner the customers couldn't see, arms folded.

"This world is truly fucked."

"I mean, how does a bitch like that even exist? I seriously want to see her face just once."

"You'll probably see her soon enough."

Because one of those bitches was none other than Song Yura.

That said, how was I supposed to get her alone? Ever since middle school she'd always been surrounded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by her friends. I'd never once seen her by herself.

She has to be alone. That's non-negotiable.

People grew spines they didn't have the moment they were in a group. And the more witnesses or connected parties you added, the more the risk multiplied. I couldn't afford that. Not yet.

This is giving me a headache.

She wasn't the type of person who'd show up alone no matter when or where you called her.

Meanwhile, as I was thinking all this, I spotted the problem customer heading out to pay. He'd barely touched the snacks I'd brought him. Then why the hell had he asked for a refill?

Still.

"Th-that was... e-enjoyable. Thank you."

He still couldn't quite manage an apology, but he used formal speech on his way out. I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.