A Lifetime's Worth of Play
A lifetime's worth of indulgence—from cheese-stuffed tonkatsu to chicken and fish cutlets. Despite the grandiose name King Tonkatsu, each portion was small, but the varieties were incredibly diverse. It felt like they'd gathered every tonkatsu from the shop into one glorious pile.
"Ugh..."
Han Gyeowol stared down at the mountain of food still left on the table. She hadn't even managed a few spoonfuls of the towering rice mound, and the soup in its bowl hadn't dipped even a centimeter. And yet her stomach already felt like it might burst. It was a total defeat.
"Nngh."
Eating this much was its own form of torture. With a deep sigh, Han Gyeowol pulled her wallet from her pocket. No helping it—she'd pay the fine.
The money I made in the dungeon today is all gone...
With expenses piling up everywhere, this kind of waste was unacceptable. Thinking of rent and what she owed Han Yeoreum, she was in the red.
I can earn money, but it never sticks around.
Was there a way to make more? Sighing again, Han Gyeowol opened her wallet. Inside the coin pouch were crumpled bills and loose change.
"One hundred thousand won..."
Ten-thousand-won bills, one-thousands, and coins—she scraped together every last bit to make exactly 100,000 won. She hadn't sold the goblin mana stones yet, so this was all she could muster.
"U-um, excuse me..."
Han Gyeowol raised one hand to call for the bill. In the process, her elbow accidentally knocked the coin pouch off the table.
Clink!
Coins spilled across the floor in a cascade. A few even rolled under a nearby couple's table as they ate.
"M-my money..."
Han Gyeowol dropped to the floor, crawling around to gather them up. Kind strangers, sensing how precious even a single coin was to a child like her, pitched in to help.
"Here's a 500-won coin that fell."
"Here, a 100-won."
"Th-thank you..."
Han Gyeowol bowed her head gratefully to each one. But with her exceptional dynamic vision, she knew she hadn't retrieved them all yet. She kept crawling, picking up every stray coin. Her path led under the couple's table.
"Th-the money..."
Han Gyeowol fidgeted her fingers in front of the couple. She'd have to crawl under their table to get it.
"Oh, is it under ours?"
"Y-yes..."
"I'll get it—hold on a sec?"
"N-no, it's fine...!"
She couldn't inconvenience people who were eating because of her own mistake. Waving her hands frantically, Han Gyeowol crawled under their table anyway.
"Mm..."
"Hrm."
A poor kid crawling under their legs. They hadn't done anything wrong, but it stirred an odd pang of guilt. The couple exchanged awkward glances. Meanwhile, Han Gyeowol scanned every inch under the table.
Tap.
Her tail brushed teasingly against the woman's leg. Her perked-up ears pressed softly against the man's. Thanks to their couple's matching shorts, the sensation of her fluff was unfiltered and direct. Completely focused on the coins, Han Gyeowol was oblivious as she wriggled around.
"Mm..."
"Hrm."
This shouldn't feel good, but... it did. The couple bit their lips in unison.
"Ah."
Did she find it? Han Gyeowol's tail flicked up triumphantly. The woman could tell from the soft pressure on her leg just how pleased the girl was.
"Found it?"
"Yes. It's a 10-won coin."
"Uh, yeah."
Just for a 10-won coin, crawling under their legs. The woman didn't say it aloud. To a kid like her, it really was precious.
"U-um, excuse me..."
Emerging from under the table with her money secured, Han Gyeowol headed to the counter. The restaurant's patrons watched her tense little figure with bated breath, wondering if the owner would really squeeze 100,000 won out of a child.
"All done eating?"
"N-no, I couldn't finish..."
"Couldn't finish, huh?"
The owner, Jeong Mi-kyung, smiled as she glanced back at Han Gyeowol's table. The tonkatsu mountain still loomed.
"Here's the fine... I'm sorry I couldn't finish..."
Han Gyeowol's ears and tail drooped pitifully. Jeong Mi-kyung feigned surprise.
"Oh dear, how absent-minded of me. That was the adult size. I meant to give you the kids' portion."
Hohoho. She let out an awkward laugh. There was no kids' portion, of course—it was a white lie for the girl's sake.
"It's okay. I'm an adult."
A child who hadn't even hit puberty claiming to be grown up. Maybe she'd matured early and saw herself that way. Jeong Mi-kyung waved her hands hurriedly.
"N-no, I meant your size class, your build. You're so small and light."
"R-really...?"
By height and weight alone, yeah, it made sense. Han Gyeowol nodded slowly.
"Yup. My mistake, so no charge."
Nice one, boss.
The patrons sighed in relief and resumed their meals.
"But I should pay..."
"Oh, come on, I have my pride as a chef. Can't take money for that. Go on, shoo."
Artisan pride, huh. Han Gyeowol knew that kind of unbreakable stubbornness well. Even if she offered a wad of cash, she'd refuse.
"Want the leftovers packed up?"
"C-can I...?"
"Sure. I'd just toss them otherwise."
"Th-then, packed too..."
"Shall we?"
Restaurant owner Jeong Mi-kyung was a single mom who'd raised three kids alone. No one knew better how to handle a stubborn child.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
That afternoon, I was kneading Sophia's shoulders while she lounged in the massage chair.
"Thanks to you, you got to enjoy that tonkatsu to your heart's content."
"Yeah. Glad you liked it."
I'd heard older folks don't handle fried food well, but Sophia had scarfed it down, tail wagging happily. Beastkin stomachs must be tougher than a regular human's.
"Oh, and I'll be starting work next week too."
"W-work? What kind?"
"Just odd jobs. The guild set it up—good hourly pay."
If the guild arranged it, it wouldn't be shady or dangerous. For now, I'd respect her choice.
"Okay, but if it gets tough..."
Before I could finish, the front door opened, and heavy footsteps entered. Had to be Choi Jin-hyeok.
"I'm back."
Choi Jin-hyeok's arrival jolted Levi Nas upright from her sprawl on the living room floor. She'd been panting from overeating tonkatsu, but now she bounced like nothing happened—adorable.
"You're here?! You're here?!"
Boing, boing! Levi Nas leaped up to his height. Her jumping was top-notch.
"Yeah. Here to teach you how adults play."
"Yay! Levi Nas waited forever!"
Levi Nas's eyes locked on the bag slung over his back. He carried four more in his hands—what a haul.
"Those play toys?!"
"Yup."
Choi Jin-hyeok dumped the bags on the sofa and shook out the backpack. A flood of snacks poured out—too many to count.
"Gasp!"
"My..."
Levi Nas and I went wide-eyed like horn rabbits; Sophia shook her head. Probably regretting showing Levi Nas so much junk food. Adults don't love kids snacking like that.
"So much chocolate! Giant likes chocolate?!"
"Nah, I hate sweets. Got 'em for you guys."
"Whoa! Levi Nas's chocolate!"
Squatting on the floor, Levi Nas clutched handfuls. Her tiny hands could barely hold five per fist. It was cute seeing her so thrilled, but worrying too—way too much junk.
"I-isn't this too much...?"
"Nah."
Choi Jin-hyeok dumped another bag. It overflowed with kids' comics—clearly for Levi Nas.
"This'll turn her into a total slacker..."
"One day won't hurt. Adults do it all the time."
Not true. Sophia and I were right here, counterexamples. It irked me, but the Alliance's nudge to play more won out. I'd go along.
"Sophia, join us."
"...I'll pass."
"Gotta play with kids sometimes."
"Hrm..."
After a moment's thought, Sophia stepped down from the chair. She must've seen the sense in his words.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Kids, big sis is home!"
Han Yeoreum opened the door with a smile, heart already fluttering at the thought of her adorable charges. What fun chats today? Stepping into the living room, she froze at the chaotic sight.
"Heehee."
Han Gyeowol lay reading educational comics. Chocolate-smeared Levi Nas was force-feeding Sophia more.
"S-stop. No more for me..."
They were having fun, sure—but in just one day? What happened? Scanning the room, Han Yeoreum spotted Choi Jin-hyeok on the sofa, watching the scene with unusual seriousness.
"You..."
"Hey."
"Jin-hyeok, your doing...?"
"Yup. Nice, right?"
It was nice. Just... the aftermath would suck. Mouth agape, Han Yeoreum stared as Han Gyeowol muttered to herself from her comic.
"Today was a lifetime's worth of play..."
A lifetime's worth. Han Yeoreum flinched. It sounded like she'd never play again. And surprisingly, that hit the mark.