Princess
The van door slid open, and the ajussis piled out in a rush.
"Alright, let's get to it today too."
"Hey, fighting! Wrap it up and hit the samgyeopsal?"
"Sounds good! Dust in your throat comes out with pork belly."
The ajussis chatted among themselves, sealing their pork belly deal, then barreled into the center without so much as glancing my way.
"…."
I was left standing there alone.
"Jua-ssi, just follow me."
"Ah, yes."
Kim Team Leader's voice had this weird, creeping softness to it. Do I really seem that unreliable?
I trailed behind Kim Team Leader into the center. Dozens of lines in our section gaped open like hungry mouths. Countless workers waited at the conveyor belts. Soon, trucks would roll in on all those lines, filling these empty belts to the brim with boxes.
But as we walked, I felt eyes on me everywhere.
A high schooler messing with a scanner set it down and stared blankly. An uncle sorting pallets straightened up, looked my way, and froze mid-task. Even the forklift driver turned his head to gawk, only slamming the brakes when the warning beep blared.
Glance— glance glance— No one ignored me completely. Everyone looked at least once.
It felt like the entire logistics center was fixated on me. Sure, in construction or logistics, new faces get sized up— How long will that punk last? Can he pull his weight? Better not slack off. Fair enough, since one slacker means the rest cover for him. But these stares were... different.
"Ahem."
Kim Team Leader cleared his throat, and the eyes finally scattered. His shoulders seemed puffed up a bit higher. Chin jutted out like he was somebody. Looked like he was flexing his lats more than before, but there was nothing to flex. Maybe he always walked like that, and I was imagining it.
"Stick to line 13 here. Pull out anything ending in 13E or 13D, scan it, and slide it onto the rail. Loading will handle the rest."
"Got it."
Back in the day, I'd handled loading and scanning solo, so sorting and scanning was no sweat.
Kim Team Leader gave a quick scanner rundown, then eyed me.
"Hey, Jua-ssi. If it's tough, don't push it—tell me right away. Got it? I can make breaks anytime."
"…Breaks?"
Breaks in parcel delivery? Loading or unloading, your break's whatever time between trucks leaving and the next arriving. Short as 2-3 minutes, max 10. Enough for a quick smoke. But here he was, promising to make breaks for me.
…Means he'll call me over to help with loading if I need a breather?
It sounded like some twisted hazing before I'd even started, but that felt too paranoid.
"Don't worry. I'll pull my weight."
He caught my determined glare, looked away flustered, and scratched his head.
"Ah, yeah, ahem, just don't overdo it. Safety first. Hey, Park Gun, keep an eye on her while loading."
"Yes, Team Leader! No worries. She'll probably have everyone staring anyway… I mean, I'll watch close."
Worried Kim Team Leader even assigned a loading buddy to babysit. He left, and real prep kicked off.
Our line had Park Gun and a high schooler-looking kid.
"They're handing out gloves over there—I'll grab some."
"Huh? No, stay here. Seonghyeon! What're you doing?!"
"Sorry! Coming right now!"
Park Gun sent the high schooler, who bolted along the belt and fetched them. Something felt off. Why're they babying me like this? What do they want? In logistics, sweet-talkers always hit you up for meals after or backup mid-shift.
Then.
"Excuse me."
"…?"
Someone tapped the belt. It was a late-20s guy from the next line prepping work. Buff build, seasoned logistics vibe. Thick forearms with Irezumi peeking out—could pass for a thug, but in this line of work, those types were often the kindest and hardest workers.
"Uh, wanna use these?"
Irezumi shyly offered unopened 4M coated gloves. The soft, grippy premium kind. Miles better—and pricier—than my cheap cotton ones. Ten times the cost, easy. Too fancy for casual kindness.
"Huh? Why give these to me…."
"Just! Men's sizes are too big and clunky for you. My hands are surprisingly small, so these fit me weird? Can't have you getting hurt. Got extras—use 'em."
He plopped them on my hand and scurried back. Small hands? Extras? He was wearing cotton larges himself….
…What's this guy's deal? Bribing me?
I stared at the new gloves, baffled, when another guy from the opposite line—fiddling with his scanner—approached.
"Hey, no water?"
"Yeah? Figured I'd sip from the cooler."
"Nah, take this. Ice-cold, unopened."
He handed over a beaded, chilled water bottle.
"Ah… it's fine…."
"Come on, newbies dehydrate easy. Call if it's rough—I'll help."
The skinny anchovy-lookin' guy—Anchovy (Minjung)—flashed a warm smile and hustled back.
Now my hands held premium 4M gloves and ice water. Never seen or heard of new hires getting tributed gloves and water.
…Do I look that pathetic?
I glanced down. Baggy gray hoodie like a damn dress. Legs that'd snap in a stiff wind. To them, was I the tragic girl head of household, house bankrupt, debt collectors on my tail, pushed into this hellhole warehouse?
…Ridiculous.
Lee Jinsu's proud soul writhed in humiliation. Body be damned—even if flesh parted from bone—I'd never let parcel work break me.
"Work starts!"
Beeeep—!
The foreman's whistle blew, and the massive conveyor lurched to life with a clunk. Boxes and plastic-wrapped parcels rained down from the unloading line.
I slipped on the new 4M gloves, scanner raised. Come on, you bastards. I snarled inwardly and reached for the first box.
Swoosh—
Whoosh!
"…Huh?"
Before my hand got there, another snatched it from behind. Park Gun.
"Haha, got time now—we'll rotate, so chill a sec."
"…Pardon?"
No chance to argue—he swiped my scanner and invaded my spot.
"I can handle…."
"No worries. We always ease in newbies. Wanna scan? It's kinda fun."
Park Gun grinned and handed the scanner back.
…Preemptive strike?
Annoying, like they thought I'd flop. But free labor? Not complaining.
Vrrr—
The belt kept rolling, next boxes incoming. He flicked through invoices, yanking ours. Scan on the rail, done. About 30 minutes in.
Hm….
Body still dry. No winter sweat, yet not a drop. Felt stiff from underuse.
…This is parcel work? Logistics?
Felt like office drudgery.
"Volume's picking up. Gonna load. Call for heavies."
"…Okay."
Boxes piled slowly. Park Gun finally returned to his post. Next box rolled up: 10kg cabbage kimchi.
Piece of cake.
Power weak, but technique intact. Squat deep, hug and pull.
I leaned in—
"Whoa there."
"…?"
Irezumi was suddenly on the belt, grabbing the kimchi.
"Smelly and damp—ruins clothes. Gray shows stains bad. I'll take it."
He carried it to our zone, set it gently on the rail.
"Whew, if Park Gun and the kid are swamped, holler. My line's lighter."
Irezumi wiped sweat, smiled, and strode back proudly. Dude, your clothes are brighter…. And your line's busier than ours….
What the hell.
Box snatched, scanner swiped, spot invaded—barely back, and kimchi yoinked.
…Fine, good guys keep the world spinning. Pay it forward later.
I steeled myself, reached for the next box. Super light—under 5kg. Fastest draw ever.
But Park Gun—Tetris pro—slipped in silent with the high schooler, who snagged it.
"Noona! Corner's dented—cuts fingers. I'll do it."
Noona… Chills down my spine. But why this time!
"…My gloves are better. Not heavy. You'd hurt more."
"Still, box edges sting bad. Hate seeing noona scarred. On me."
The kid, martyr-faced like an independence fighter, passed it off and retreated.
Two hours in, still sweat-free. Boxes I'd handled? Maybe 50 total? Heavies all nabbed by Park Gun or kid. Rare openings? Irezumi or Anchovy crossed over.
Dudes, do your jobs….
Didn't change. Bulky or heavy incoming? Irezumi read the invoice first, signaled. Park Gun, kid, or Anchovy handled. All busy? Irezumi himself.
I just grabbed vinyl parcels or obvious lights, scanned, done.
Free rides weren't in my dictionary. I cleaned others' messes daily. Others covering my quota? Unthinkable.
But now.
"Noona, scan this?"
"…Sure."
Beep—
"Jua-ssi, grab the black vinyl."
"…Yes."
"Whoa, you're killing it."
"…."
Swipe—
"Leave the water pack! I'll pass it."
"…Thanks."
Somehow adapted to this bizarre setup. Resistance futile. Still no sweat.