This Isn't an Anomaly?

So this isn't an anomaly?

When I got home, I threw myself onto the bed of my cramped one-room apartment without even bothering to shower.

I figured my head was too busy to sleep, but thanks to the string of spectacular events I'd just been through, the moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I relaxed, sleep swallowed me like a sucker punch.

By the time I opened my eyes again, the sun was already high in the afternoon sky.

I sat up groggily and the first thing I did was grab the smartphone sitting by my pillow.

Because I was worried—worried that all of it might have been a dog-shit dream. That it might have ended like some sweet midsummer night's fantasy and nothing more.

But the moment the phone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lit up, the jet-black icon sitting squarely on my home screen told me I hadn't imagined any of it.

"Haah.... It's real. It's actually real."

When I opened the app, the same crude chat window from yesterday appeared, exactly as I'd left it.

The conversation history with whatever AI or entity it was was preserved in full, too.

I stared blankly at the screen for a while, and then curiosity got the better of me.

It told me to report anomalies, didn't it?

I pressed down on the chat input field and began typing slowly, deliberately.

Honestly, I'd thrown the question out half for fun.

It was the kind of question that deserved to be shot down—what kind of nonsense is that? Get your head straight and go find some actual anomalies.

But no sooner had I hit send than a system notification popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

"...Huh?"

It actually worked?

My eyes went wide.

An app that orders me to report anomalies just admitted that it is an anomaly.

If that's the case, I honestly had no idea why it wanted me to find and report anomalies in the first place.

While I was at it, I decided to ask the thing I'd been most curious about since yesterday, point-blank.

Three dots blinked for a moment—the loading indicator—then a long answer came streaming in.

I read down the screen with my eyes glued to it and swallowed hard.

So, in other words—anomaly-type phenomena started appearing in the world, and I'm immune to a portion of them?

Reading between the lines, it seemed like an Altered Common Sense had kicked in somewhere, just like something out of a web novel, and I was apparently the only one unaffected by it.

And apparently that might be the reason women fell for me.

But it didn't tell me WHY, did it?

I asked again—why, couldn't it give me even a rough explanation—but the only response I got, over and over, was some variation of "unable to answer."

Eventually I gave up on figuring out the reason and decided to just accept it.

Frankly speaking, what was happening to me right now wasn't exactly a bad thing.

It bugged me a little that there were other kinds of anomalies besides altered common sense, sure.

But for now I was protected from having that warped common sense forced onto me, and above all, I'd gained an insane passive ability that made women like me.

And judging by Kwon Yuri's example yesterday, that affection didn't stop at ordinary human fondness—it seemed to extend all the way into the sexual realm.

Which basically makes me no different from a guy with a model's face walking around with a monster cock.

Looking at the situation right now, it felt less like I was in danger and more like I'd been handed a colossal blessing.

I could live my life picking up this woman and that woman, enjoying them however I pleased—but I decided to stay calm for now.

There was no way something called an "anomaly" would only keep showering me with good things.

Steadying my excitement, I moved on to my next question.

The moment I fired off the question, the loading finished fast and the answer came through.

Added every week? So I need to hustle and find them?

Ninety-eight anomalies left to find, and new ones piling on every single week?

That was a genuinely headache-inducing situation.

If an altered common sense like "it is acceptable to kill people" ever popped up, it would be like falling straight into hell on earth.

That said, it did seem like there were items—an anomaly remover or something like that—available for purchase in case something like that happened.

Of course, there was another problem on top of all that.

Phone in hand, I asked about it.

That was the single most important question.

However much I got to slurp honey while squiring women around, things would get tricky if there was some kind of time limit attached.

So I can't fail until I die or give up on my own, is that it?

I threw the question at the AI once more, and the moment I got a firm confirmation, I burst out laughing.

"Protection, schmotion. What kind of lunatic would kick over a honeypot like this?"

I didn't have the faintest intention of quitting.

Why on earth would I throw away a cheat code that rolled into this bleak, joyless, dirt-poor life of mine?

Sure, investigating was a hassle and a little scary, but if I couldn't stomach this much adventure, I wouldn't deserve to date women in the first place.

"Alright, I'll gladly play the investigator."

I sprang up from the bed and stretched.

Happy daydreams chased each other's tails—how I'd investigate the anomalies going forward, and how I'd meet and enjoy women along the way—but reality was waiting for me: I had my night shift at work that very evening.

Until I could use anomalies to become a rich layabout, I needed to earn my living expenses with the convenience store gig.

Besides, if anomalies lurked throughout everyday life, then the night-shift convenience store crawling with nutjobs ought to be an absolute gold mine of them.

"Welcome in...."

3 a.m.

With those thoughts in mind, I leaned on the counter, desperately fighting off an avalanche of yawns.

Point-farming at the anomaly gold mine, aka the night-shift convenience store.

To cut to the conclusion: my grand plan of milking points like rice grains was failing spectacularly.

"Hey, kid! One bottle of soju and... uhhhh, where's the shrimp crackers?!"

The moment a drunk old man with a nose bent sideways staggered in, he started doing some kind of incomprehensible freestyle dance right in the middle of the store.

My eyes lit up and I opened the smartphone app.

The instant I filed the report, a system notification popped up.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This isn't an anomaly?"

While I stood there muttering in disbelief, the dancing old man toppled right out the door, soju bottle in hand.

Clutching the back of my neck, I hauled the guy up and shoved him outside.

An hour after that.

"Excuse me, clerk. One hot iced Americano, please."

"I'm sorry, sir? Iced Americano is cold. How would I make it hot—"

"What do you mean, how? Put ice in it and pour hot water over it! No sense at all, honestly."

Watching the lunatic customer blink his eyes in exasperation, I opened my smartphone one more time.

"You son of a bitch! Why not this one?!"

"Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"N-nothing. I'll make it for you...."

In the end, I pulled the shots, poured them into an ice-filled cup, and chugged in piping-hot water from the purifier, making him a cup of lukewarm piss-coffee while I wept tears of blood inside.

For the record, this crazy son of a bitch left satisfied—apparently this was what he'd wanted all along.

It wasn't until around 5 a.m., after weathering every brand of lunatic imaginable, that I finally grasped the cold, hard truth.

Right.... The world wasn't crazy after all. The jackass customers who come to night-shift convenience stores were always crazy. That was the original state of things.

This wasn't an anomaly—it was simply the national average for a Korean convenience store night shift.

The idiot here was me, for trying to farm points off of this garbage.

And so, having harvested absolutely nothing, the clock crept toward 6 a.m.

"Morning, Oppa~."

Accompanied by the cheerful chime of the doorbell, Kwon Yuri walked in.

It wasn't her usual cold, businesslike voice, but a honey-dripping, nasal coo.

"Oh, Yuri, you're here?"

"Yep~. Another hard night's work, huh. Oppa."

"That's right. Let's tidy up, run the till check, and swap shifts."

"Okay, sounds good."

I glanced sideways at her while straightening up the counter.

With her fresh morning makeup and a short tennis skirt on, Yuri's face flushed the instant she saw me, a light pink bloom spreading across her cheeks.

Still, though. Was she seriously okay with a skirt that short?

Not that I minded, but at that length I could practically see her panties.

Just then, as if she'd felt my gaze, Kwon Yuri turned her eyes toward me and spoke up.

"Um, Oppa? Where... exactly are you looking?"

"Huh? Sorry, what?"

"You've been staring at me so hard today. It's kind of intense."

Right. Had my gaze been a little too naked?

For a split second the words sorry almost tumbled out first, but I calmed myself as much as I could and looked at her with steady composure.

Until yesterday, I'd have assumed she was about to chew me out—why are you looking at me right now?—but things were different now.

I knew I had a passive buff that inflated a woman's affection for me sky-high.

"Oh, that. It's just... your skirt seems a little... short today."

"Oh...."

"I wasn't trying to look, it just kind of caught my eye."

I tossed out a line that, if it had landed wrong, could've gotten me reported to the police on the spot.

Normally she'd probably have looked at me with pure disgust—where the hell are you looking?—or gone straight for the phone and dialed 112.

But the reaction Yuri showed me now was a masterpiece.

Far from being offended, she actually pinched the hem of her skirt, wriggled her body, and smiled bashfully.

"Ah.... It's nothing, really.... I just thought maybe you'd look at me today, Oppa, so I... put in a little effort. You don't like it?"

Wait, so that's what this was?

Here I'd assumed she was just a cock-hungry minx, but she'd dressed that short because she wanted ME to see it?

Looking closer, I noticed the skirt was hiked up quite a bit higher than its actual length would have put it.

She could have pulled it down, sure—but this was a convenience store with only me around, so apparently she'd opted for this aggressive fashion statement.

"Not at all. You're gorgeous, Yuri, so you're nice to look at."

"Really...? That's a relief."

"Still, maybe pull it down a bit while you're working. It might make other people uncomfortable."

"Ah, yes, Oppa~.... You even think about things like that. You're so sweet."

I only said it because I wanted to keep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enjoying that rare view myself, and she takes it as sweetness.

Yuri blushed, slipped around behind the counter, and casually pressed her chest against my forearm.

When that heavy, plush sensation—the one I'd gripped to my heart's content just yesterday—transmitted through the thin fabric, I felt my junior twitch to attention.

No, seriously, this is insane.

I could come out being this openly sleazy, and women would actually flock to me for it?

"Oppa, you remember I said I'd buy you dinner yesterday, right? Should we meet up this evening after your shift...?"

"Ah, sure. Though I can't promise. I didn't sleep properly yesterday, so I'm pretty wiped."

"Oh.... That's totally fine! You can see me whenever you have time, so don't overdo it."

"Alright, then I'll text you later. Well then, if you'll excuse—"

I subtly played it cool as I gathered my things.

No need to look like an easy man.

That woman was head over heels for me anyway.

Yuri made a slightly disappointed face, but soon nodded and saw me off.

"Okay. Rest up, and make sure you text me later."

With a light step, I slipped out from behind the counter and stood at the convenience store door.

The morning air felt unusually crisp today.

Good. Even if I'd come up empty-handed tonight, the anomaly that made women like me was still in effect.

I'd use it to have a lovely time with Yuri, and then work my way through other women later on.

Carrying those happy thoughts, I grabbed the door handle as always and pushed it outward.

Or rather—I tried to push it.

"Huh?"

The door, which should have swung open smoothly, didn't budge an inch.

Wondering if something had snagged against it from outside, I threw my whole body into shoving it—but the thing stood fast, as if it had turned into a solid block of iron.

"Oppa? What's wrong? The door won't open?"

Yuri came over from behind, puzzled.

Ah, this makes me look like a weakling, doesn't it.

"Ah, it's just.... The door won't open. Looks like something's stuck outside."

I scratched my head awkwardly and, out of pure reflex, looked up at the top of the door.

And then I made the discovery.

Where the "Thank you, come again" sticker should have been, something alien was hanging instead.

Black lettering in an old-fashioned official script, floating in midair.

Suspended there with crisp, unmistakable clarity, like a game system message—and on it was written a single sentence.

"......What the fuck is this."

Wondering if my eyes were playing tricks, I rubbed them hard and looked again—but the sentence remained, floating crisp and clear above the door.

This... this is it, right?

I pulled out my phone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and framed the floating letters with my camera.

Good—it wasn't a hallucination only I could see. The letters showed up clearly on camera too.

I attached the photo, typed up an anomaly report, and sent it through the chat.

So it was real?

Just as I was staring up at the floating letters with an expression of pure disbelief—

"Um, Oppa? Is something the matter...?"

"Yuri. You saw that thing too, right?"

"...Yes."

Kwon Yuri, coming out right behind me, must have spotted the letters floating above the door, because she froze solid on the spot.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do about this?

Kwon Yuri and I stood there like idiots, staring blankly at each other.