A Life on Thirty Thousand Won a Month

An empty, quiet park—

I was gazing with pure happiness at the Pikachu Tonkatsu I had finally chosen after dozens of agonizing deliberations, savoring what was nearly my only stretch of rest outside the scant hours ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I managed to sleep.

Even with a mask on, the snack shop ajumma had recognized me and flatly refused to take my money, so I had nearly walked away empty-handed. After a full five minutes of desperate persuasion, she finally accepted the three thousand-won bills I thrust at her, and I successfully completed the purchase.

“Hehehe! I didn’t even ask, but she piled the sauce on extra thick! Hehe, I can mix this with rice! Ahh, how long has it been since I last ate rice…!”

Of course the damn status window had forced me to turn down the shrimp tempura she tried to slip me as service, but eating actual rice instead of ramen was such a rare treat that I couldn’t help getting giddy.

Anyone watching might snicker at a grown man getting this worked up over a single Pikachu Tonkatsu. But for me, this was a genuine luxury—born of the thought that I might finally be able to retire soon.

After all, once you subtracted the essentials—goshiwon rent, phone bills, and the price of these gray tracksuits that constantly got shredded during hero work—what I, living on the government’s bare-minimum livelihood subsidy, could freely spend each month was…

A mere thirty thousand won.

So meals were usually handled with the unlimited ramen and kimchi the goshiwon provided. Only on the rare day I wanted to splurge would I add a single slice of cheese; on truly special occasions like my birthday I might throw in some tuna or ham.

Naturally my phone wasn’t some expensive wearable with a premium plan either. I used an old-fashioned smartphone that still offered thrifty rates for seniors and children. True to form, the internet was throttled and plenty of features were locked, but I never had time for that stuff anyway, so it hardly mattered.

Well, in this world that sat a little further into the future than the one I’d come from, even grandpas and kindergarteners rarely bothered with these outdated bricks. People never look thrilled when you gift a parent or young kid a cheap basic phone, do they?

…Plus here, smartphones carried roughly the same image as pagers from the nineties back in my original world.

Ahh, even I feel like crying over my own poverty-stricken life.

Of course, thanks to that damn status window, I couldn’t actually cry.

“Hehe…! Still, right now I get to eat something delicious, so I’m a little less depressed than usual! And look—there’s even mustard on the back! Khehehe! Normally they only put the red seasoning…!”

…Ah, for the record: a little extra sauce beyond the proper portion caused my heart no pain whatsoever. Even that damn status window had its own set of “rules” for handing out penalties.

If I tried to accept something like a villa or a luxury watch, my heart would clamp down until I could barely breathe. But cursing alone where no one could hear me, or a gift so sincere that refusing would be more embarrassing than accepting… those only left a mild prick in my chest, a pain I could grit through.

Take the thousand paper cranes a kid whose life I’d saved had folded for me by hand. Accepting them brought zero pain at all. Or a homemade bento lovingly prepared by a fan I’d rescued multiple times—total ingredient cost under ten thousand won. That kind of thing only hurt enough that I could endure it and still eat.

Even a status window as strict as mine apparently judged that level of gratitude acceptable.

“Well, if the bento had eel or hanwoo beef in it, it’d mercilessly wring my heart dry. Khehehe, anyway. Time to enjoy this luxurious feast…!”

“Ha? You’re Smile. Eating that junk again and wrecking your body?”

…But right then, just as I was about to mix the sauce-dripping Pikachu Tonkatsu into a plain rice kimbap with nothing but rice inside—

“Hmph. Don’t you know balanced meals and body care are essential virtues for a hero? Drop that ridiculous stubbornness and take care of yourself for once, will you?”

The very person who made those heartfelt bentos.

“…Hmph. Th-this. Eat it if you want. I-I packed it for myself originally, but I suddenly got a lunch appointment with a friend in Seoul. I don’t need it anymore.”

Among the heroes who managed Incheon, the one with the highest recognition—S-class Rank 9, Flame Witch Lavy—appeared before me holding a pink-wrapped bento.

Flame Witch Lavy, real name Seo Su-a.

“Witch” was a rather unusual moniker for a hero, but her powerful flame ability let her crush vicious villains without a shred of mercy, and she always walked around with furrowed brows and a prim, prickly expression—so the nickname stuck. The “Lavy” part came from her snow-white hair and skin paired with eyes that burned a vivid red like her flames; the combination looked so much like a rabbit that people started calling her that.

Honestly I had no idea why she looked like that when she wasn’t even albino. But in this world hair and eye colors were all over the place, so black hair and black eyes like mine were actually the rare ones.

…Anyway, for all that she came off as sharp-tongued and curt—borderline scary—she was genuinely kind and a striking beauty. Her popularity always ranked in the top five among S-class heroes.

Unlike me, who had debuted young and was firmly treated as a second-generation hero, she was still only twenty-five and had climbed to S-class Rank 9 in just five years of activity. She was one of the flagship figures of the third-generation heroes.

Separate from all that, she had been one of the hero “characters” who appeared in the defense game I’d been forcibly dropped into. So regardless of real-world fame, she was burned deep into my memory.

In the game she had been a glass-cannon unit with a glaring defect: the more you stacked her attack, the lower her defense fell. Reality mirrored that flaw almost perfectly. The hotter her emotions ran and the greater her rage toward an enemy, the stronger her flames grew—yet the more she lost her composure, the more her own power burned her.

Still, her base specs were excellent, and her enhancement suit came equipped with cooling functions. That combination had let her claim an S-class seat in only five years.

“…Hmph! A-and no matter how strong you are, at least wear a basic enhancement suit! You’re not some first-generation hero from the early days—why do you always run around in that ragged tracksuit?!”

“Haha, that thing’s just uncomfortable. Plus it takes time to put on and take off, so even a little bit, the time I have to save citizens shrinks, doesn’t it?”

“Ha…! You’re so great, really. Why don’t you just save the entire world by yourself? Is that why you came all the way into my jurisdiction yesterday and arrested A-class villain Strong ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too?”

While those thoughts ran through my head, Lavy—wearing a white sleeveless top that clung to her body and a black lightweight suit covering her arms, legs, and parts of her torso—pressed the question.

Honestly the gear looked cool enough that even I, who had zero need for it, had occasionally wondered what it would feel like to wear. But like the supercars oil tycoons drove, repairs alone ran into the tens of millions of won. How was someone with a monthly allowance of thirty thousand won supposed to afford that?

If the Ability Management Bureau issued them as standard equipment, maybe I’d have a shot. Unfortunately those suits were personal purchases made by heroes pulling annual salaries in the hundreds of millions—or billions, even tens of billions. Something I would never touch in my lifetime.

And last time the Ability Management Bureau had offered to outfit me alone with a cutting-edge suit packed with every feature imaginable, this damn status window had gone berserk and wrung my heart like a sponge. Even less chance, then.

…This insane square window lost its mind whenever anything smacked of a “special favor” or “privilege” given only to me.

Damn it. If that was the rule, shouldn’t they at least let me earn a high salary like everyone else? Why did I have to shoulder the same responsibilities—no, far heavier ones—while receiving zero reward of any kind?

Of course, if I ever tried to argue that out loud, the damn status window would surely spit out something like:

…or some other piece of garbage.

Anyway, when Lavy brought up the bank robber I’d caught yesterday, I answered with the energetic voice and clear, conviction-filled eyes the status window always demanded.

“Hahaha! Save everyone by myself! How wonderful that would be if I could? But that’s impossible—which is exactly why excellent juniors like you exist, Lavy. So please keep looking after Incheon for me.”

I rolled out the usual lines. No matter what I actually felt, as long as I showed the world the image the status window wanted, it didn’t particularly complain.

Fifteen years since I’d fallen into this place out of nowhere and been worked like a dog. Under the constant “heart massages” of that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠insane hardcore acting coach whenever I slipped up, I had at least become, when it came to playing the perfect hero, a greater actor than anyone else alive.

…Honestly, after this long it wouldn’t have been strange if the gap between the “ideal hero” I performed and the real “me” had cracked my identity wide open and left me with full-blown dissociation.

“H-hmph! I-if you’re going to talk like that then just stay in Seoul! Why cross over to Incheon for hero work at all?! D-do you not trust me and the other heroes that much…?”

“Haha, Lavy, you’re one of the juniors I trust most. But when someone who needs help is right in front of me, what does jurisdiction matter?”

…Well, the truth was that Seoul’s crime rate these days had dropped so low because of me that I had simply crossed into Incheon for a bit to fill my eighteen-hour daily quota. Seoul had far fewer assigned heroes than other regions, yet thanks solely to being my main territory, its villain crime rate was by far the lowest in the country. In this entire world, no other city the size of Seoul had villain activity this low. I’d even heard plenty of rich foreigners were trying to move there lately.

…Saying any of that out loud, however, would have been extremely bad for my cardiac health. So I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closed the conversation with a suitably heroic answer.

“If someone is in danger right before your eyes, you help first and think later. Isn’t that what a hero does?”

Ding—!

Right then the notification tone I heard every single day until I was sick of it stabbed into my ears, and a window bloomed in front of my eyes.

…a message I could not afford to ignore.