Welcome to Smile 44

The next morning. Maybe it was the aftermath of that soggy-cardboard-flavored chicken, but my growling stomach woke me up early.

Damn it. No matter how many times I looked, it was a pitiful number that seemed to be missing at least two zeros.

An amount that couldn't even buy a single bowl of gukbap soup—here, in this capitalist society where money drained out of you just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for breathing, it amounted to nothing less than a death sentence: days away from starving.

"Time to work. Work or die. That deadbeat god isn't going to feed me."

Rubbing my swollen eyes, I grabbed my phone and opened a part-time job app. But no matter how far I scrolled, nothing decent turned up.

Hauling delivery boxes was out—with my pathetic stamina, I'd be launched straight to my big bro Zeus's side within half a day. Restaurant work paid too late; payday was ages away when I needed cash in my mouth now.

"Ugh, isn't there some golden gig out there where I can start today and get an advance……"

I was swiping through the screen in irritation when it happened.

Kzzt—!

Suddenly grotesque gray static rippled across my phone screen, and it began flickering like a madman.

"Wh-whoa? What the hell? What's wrong with my used phone I bought secondhand off that marketplace app—rated Grade A and everything?!"

I panicked and smacked the screen, and in an instant the ordinary job listings floating there began to crack and bleed red, as if wounded.

Creepy lettering smeared across the screen in a blackish-red, paired with hiring conditions that defied all reason and common sense. It looked for all the world like someone had written the words in blood.

But to a twenty-year-old on the verge of starvation, ghosts and whatever else meant nothing—it just looked like a broken phone.

"Aargh, that lightning strike yesterday must have fried it with electromagnetic pulse! All the text is scrambled and covered in red lines—what a disaster! Ah, my money! My blood, sweat, and money!!"

A day-one rookie shaman, fresh off a spirit possession that had opened his spiritual sight to the world beneath the world, had no way of knowing any of that.

I just grumbled about my busted phone and flicked irritably past the shattered letters—when I spotted it.

Among the screen wallpapered with grotesque job listings, one single post—only one—was glowing with a shiny halo, holding its crisp, perfectly intact font. Like a lighthouse in the dark, it leapt out at my eyes.

"Insane—night shift at triple pay? Plus same-day wages AND unlimited expired food?!"

Triple the hourly rate plus night differential—that came out to almost 50,000 won an hour, didn't it? This was straight-up money-duplication-bug territory.

Even with my phone glitching out, the fact that this miraculous golden gig had caught my eye had to mean heaven was watching over me.

Hold on, though. There's no store name, no franchise brand, nothing—it's way too sparse for a job posting, isn't it?

For a split second, a rational suspicion flickered through some corner of my brain. But my account balance of 7,000 won trampled that rational suspicion flat.

Eh, whatever! The wage's the equivalent of thirty-some bucks an hour—who's being picky about cold rice versus warm? As long as it's not a shrimp boat or a pyramid scheme, I'm taking it. Period.

Having fully surrendered to sweet capitalist logic, I pressed the call button on the number in the listing without a second of hesitation.

Ring-ring-ring—

It had barely rung twice when—

Click.

"Huh? Instant rejection?"

I was staring down at my phone in bewilderment when a text came zinging in. I fired off a reply at lightning speed.

"Wahaha! Hired on the spot, no questions asked! The sun's finally shining on my life at last!"

I rolled around on my bed, whooping with joy. Tonight—starting tonight—I could stuff my face with expired convenience store food!

Hooh.

Just then, Zeus's voice rumbled ponderously through my skull, sounding intrigued.

Thou hast a sharper eye than I gave thee credit for, boy. Thou hast chosen a rather fine hunting ground.

"Huh? Hunting ground? Oh—you mean the part-time job, right? As expected of my big bro Zeus, you know the value of a thirty-bucks-an-hour golden gig when you see it. I'll sweep up extra expired food and bring back your share too!"

When I snickered and tossed out the nonsense, Zeus let out a low chuckle in my head.

……Honey? Hahaha! Well, I suppose. To some, the stench of blood may be as sweet as honey. Thou art diving headfirst into a starving tiger's maw—my faithful follower thou mayest be, but a fool thou art all the same.

"Oh come on, 'stench of blood'? What blood is there to see at a convenience store? Worst case is a rude customer, that's it. Don't be so dramatic!!"

I clicked my tongue at the absurd statement and pressed on.

"Honestly, big bro, are you still living in the mythological age? Well—I mean, you're literally a guy from that age. But seriously! The world doesn't work like that anymore, so quit with the scary talk."

……Heh.

"Even Zeus has to keep up with the trends these days, you know. How long are you going to cling to that old-timey vibe like some back-room old man? Nobody goes out 'hunting' anymore."

……

"It's a world where they pay you just to sit in the AC and go beep-beep with a barcode scanner, that's what it is! So just let it go—go around saying stuff like that and people will call you a boomer. Just saying, watch yourself."

The moment Zeus's voice faltered, I saw my opening and machine-gunned the words out—and then a chill ran through my head.

A heartbeat of silence. Then Zeus's voice rolled through me again, soaked in a strangely twisted amusement.

……Back-room. Old man. Thou callest me—the Lord of Olympus, King of the Gods—a back-room old man. Hoh. Trends. Yes, that cursed word, trends.

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower than when he'd hurled down lightning, but I brushed it off as nothing.

Khehek… Hahahaha! Fine—perchance thou art right. I have been too ignorant of the ways of the mortal world these days. My worry was needless.

"See, wouldn't it have been nice to admit that ages ago? And don't worry. I'll haul back every last bit of expired food—triangle gimbap, ramyeon, lunch boxes, all of it—and stuff your altar absolutely full!"

Indeed. I shall be waiting. Let us see how thou farest in that so-called honeyed land of thine.

Zeus whispered low, and then fell silent, apparently having nothing more to say.

I won. I won. I'd finally landed a blow on that deadbeat god.

But I couldn't have known it yet—that this would make Zeus sulk, and that his sulk would cost me dearly.

Zeus sat alone upon the enormous throne of Olympus's empty temple.

Nothing pressed in from all sides but ponderous silence. This vast space, once overflowing with the boisterous laughter of gods, now held no warmth whatsoever.

Just as that vicious stillness was beginning to make an ache settle deep in his chest—

"……Let's see, then. I wonder how that doomed little whelp is wailing and wriggling about by now."

A wry smile flickered across Zeus's lips, which had been steeped in chilly melancholy.

That insolent cur who had dared sneer at the King of the Gods, calling him a back-room old man. Picturing the misery awaiting the brat transformed even the hollow ache swelling in his chest into an electric surge of delight.

"I warned him, kindly enough, that he was walking into a starving tiger's jaws. But he was the one who called me a boomer and crawled in on his own ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠two feet—so if he comes crying for his life, the fault is hardly mine. Quite right, quite right."

With an unmistakably impish grin planted on his lips, Zeus sank deep into the colossal throne.

He had decided to sit back and savor the thrilling spectacle about to unfold.

10:50 p.m.

I rode the city bus to the last stop, then started walking in the direction the map app pointed. But the farther I went, the streetlights began cutting out one by one, until an endless, pitch-black darkness spread out before me.

"……Seriously, why is it so dark out here? Is this some legendary countryside village or what?"

Deep on the outskirts, far from the city center. The paved road had given way to uneven dirt somewhere along the way, and the surroundings were so cold and deserted that not a hint of human presence could be felt.

Shaaaah—

Every time the frigid night wind brushed past the back of my neck, the bare branches along the road swayed, casting grotesque shadows.

Rustle. Step. Step.

In that deformed silence where even the crickets had gone quiet, only my own footsteps rang out, unpleasantly loud.

It was enough to give me the illusion that someone in the darkness was walking in step with me, following close behind.

Suddenly a shiver crawled up my spine like a snake.

"Man, who puts a convenience store in a dump like this? Forget golden gig—if I'm not careful, I'll get my organs harvested."

I was muttering that the map app had to be malfunctioning when I saw it—far in the distance, a single building glowing with light in the darkness.

"……Huh?"

A desolate empty lot, black with nothing but darkness. Not a single shop or house anywhere near it—just one convenience store standing all alone in the dead center of the vacant ground.

What was astonishing was the building itself. It was a brand-new, glossy single-story structure, incongruously sleek and bright against the grim landscape.

I looked up at the sign, and a brand name I'd never seen or heard in my entire life was glittering there.

"The hell? A day is 24 hours—what kind of lunatic math is '44'? A cutting-edge convenience store running on the theory of relativity?"

The logo next to the sign was even more absurd.

A single bright-yellow circle face, looking like it had been scribbled into MS Paint in one second flat, just floating there, all on its own. The designer had clearly pocketed the salary and bolted.

No eyes. No nose. Just a single mouth, grotesquely slit open from ear to ear, smiling its skin-crawling smile on an otherwise blank face.

"Come on, at least draw the guy some eyes. A kindergartner's three-second doodle would show more effort than this."

A snort of laughter burst out of me—but the very next moment, the corners of my mouth slowly sank. Now that I thought about it, it was way too creepy.

The kind of unsettling vibe where anyone with eyes would say the guy standing here could get dragged out the back door and forced to donate a kidney without it raising an eyebrow. The instinct to spin on my heel and bolt slammed into my brain.

But……

"Still—triple pay. Let's just squeeze our eyes shut and do it. It's not human trafficking, right? Right."

Unable to resist capitalism's sweet temptation, I heaved one big deep breath and shoved the glass door open with force.

Dee-ling—!

The instant the cheerful door chime rang out, the phone in my pocket vibrated like it had been possessed.

"Ooh, nice timing. Were you watching me on CCTV or what?"

Humming a tune, I headed for the counter, and just as the manager said, there sat a brand-new uniform vest, plastic wrap still unpeeled, along with a laminated sheet of A4 paper.

Across the top of the page, thick red ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠letters spelled out: [NIGHT SHIFT RULES].

"What is this? This isn't even a third-rate internet creepypasta."

I skimmed the rules sheet and burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. Don't greet the customers? Is that a rule or a fart? But what really seized my gaze wasn't Rule 1, or Rule 2—it was Rule 3, right there.

"Hold up. The CCTV doesn't work?"

I immediately looked up and swept my eyes over every corner of the store. Not a single red LED light anywhere—which meant the cameras really were dead.

The monitor in the corner of the counter was black as pitch, powered off, with a fine layer of white dust settled over it.

"Booyah! No camera lights, monitor fully off! Perfect, absolutely perfect!"

This meant perfect, unsupervised freedom from the boss's watchful eye. And no greeting customers, no talking to them either? The manager had clearly been traumatized half to death by nightmare customers.

I marveled at this benevolent, truly enlightened employer's mindset—no customer service required, ever.

"Kaah! This is an all-time legendary golden gig! Jackpot!"

Without even reading the rest of the rules sheet, I flung it into the far corner of the counter and gleefully pulled on my uniform vest.

If the boss couldn't see me, why on earth would I stand at attention behind the register? And realistically speaking, there was zero chance a single customer would ever wander into a convenience store this far off the grid.

Using "taking stock of and organizing the storage room" as my perfectly respectable excuse, I drifted as if bewitched into the back storeroom.

It's 100% guaranteed no customer shows up all night anyway, so what's the point of standing at the counter? Times like these, you suck the honey!

I cracked the storeroom door to let the AC breeze in, flopped down on a stack of boxes in the corner, and pulled out my phone. Getting paid thirty-something bucks an hour to lie around in a storeroom playing on my phone—life did not get more perfect than this.

"Loo loo la laaa~ thirty bucks an hour, what a steal~ gotta scoop up the expired food when I clock out~"

I was happily humming to myself, killing time in high spirits, when it happened.

Dee-ling—!

The cheerful door chime rang out loudly from the store entrance. A customer had come in.

Huh, so customers do show up even at a store in a location like this?

Without so much as a minimal gesture of checking who the customer was through the storeroom door, my capitalist reflexes fired in 0.1 seconds flat.

"Welcome! You're at Smile 44~!"

And with that, I rose to my feet to head out of the storeroom.

The work rule the manager had hammered home with such force—I had broken it, seated right there, on my very first day.