First Customer
For all my optimism, business wasn't exactly booming from the start.
There were reasons for that, of course — plenty of them.
For one thing, a tuck shop had a strong reputation for selling junk food, so the noble students probably found the whole idea off-putting.
They just haven't tasted anything yet.
During a lull, I swept my gaze over the full expanse of the store.
The display area was divided into four main sections. A shelf of room-temperature foods stocked with snacks and bread. An open refrigerated case for dairy products and lunch boxes. A chilled-and-frozen corner for drinks and frozen goods. And finally, a miscellaneous section stocked with everything from household supplies to stationery.
Along one wall stood simple tables where students could eat the instant food, with a microwave and a hot water dispenser right beside them. Since I'd modeled the place on the convenience store I'd run in my previous life, it looked fairly convincing.
Ah, right — I did sell alcohol and cigarettes too, but those were aimed at the faculty rather than the students. The age of adulthood in this world matched the academy's enrollment age of sixteen, but I somehow doubted the cadets would go around throwing college-style drinking parties.
Just then—
Jingle—
The little bell above the door rang out, announcing my very first customer. I turned my head on reflex to greet them.
"Welcome in!"
"…!"
The female student who'd stepped through the door flinched and froze mid-step. Meeting my eyes, the girl gave an awkward little bow, then kept glancing nervously around the store.
Well, I understood. I'd have been the same.
Most of the academy's students were children of nobility. Even kids who'd been pampered with every luxury since birth would find the sight of a convenience store unfamiliar.
I put on the gentlest smile I could manage.
"Feel free to look around. Ask me if anything catches your eye."
"Ah, y-yes…"
I stole a quick look at the girl as she answered. A voluminous head of pink hair — I genuinely wondered if that was its natural color. With those big round eyes darting shyly about, she reminded me of some small woodland creature.
She's cute.
Her face looked young — a first-year, then? Barring special circumstances, first-years were all sixteen, and she looked exactly the part.
Skitter, skitter.
The girl edged cautiously toward the room-temperature food shelf and soon picked up a bag of snacks, running her curious eyes over the wrapper. As I'd mentioned before, everything was translated into this world's language, so she'd have no trouble guessing what was inside.
There are pictures on it, too.
Still, neglecting my first customer would be poor form. The harder I worked at this, the better my reputation — and the more students would come knocking.
Still seated, I spoke up in the softest voice I could.
"That one's a fried corn snack with chocolate on top."
And yet, even though I'd deliberately toned it down, the girl startled like a startled rabbit. Just how timid was she?
"It melts right in your mouth when you eat it. It's delicious."
I said it with a smile.
"Th-thank you…"
Against all my hopes that she'd be pleased, the girl set the snack right back down. The sight of her was exactly like watching a preschooler visit a stationery shop for the first time in their life.
Tsk.
I clicked my tongue in disappointment.
That stuff is genuinely delicious, though…
For a long while afterward, the girl wandered around looking at this and that, and each time, I offered an explanation.
"Those are thin-sliced, fried potato chips. Crispy and nicely salted — very tasty."
"Ah…"
"That one's like a cream puff, except there's chocolate inside instead of cream."
"Yes…"
Hmm. At this point, I was getting a little suspicious. Was she actually here to buy something?
I was beginning to lose interest as I watched her when—
"Um, what's this one?"
For the first time since she'd walked in, the girl asked me a question of her own accord. At some point she'd made her way to the refrigerated case, and hanging in her hand was a single-row gimbap.
Oh, uh…
It was a product that had sold well back when I ran my store, so I'd stocked it without much thought — but now, faced with that bright, springy pink hair and those exotic features, I hesitated to explain. Understandably so. I wasn't at all sure whether gimbap actually suited a Western palate.
But then again — Korean food had been taking the world by storm, hadn't it? In my memory, the sight of Westerners raving about how delicious Korean food was remained vivid.
I put on my usual people-pleasing smile and explained.
"It's a kind of lunch box — rice and seaweed rolled up around little side dishes."
"Ah…?"
That one threw her, as I expected.
"Um, what's a side dish?"
Right. So I'd have to explain what side dishes were first.
But a taste would land far better than any explanation.
"Think of it like eating your mains and sides together — actually, no, forget that. Just try it. It'll be delicious."
"Hmm…"
I was bracing for another letdown when—
"I'll take this one."
The girl came up to the counter with the gimbap.
Yes!
Her choosing the gimbap was a bit of a surprise, but who cared?
"Let me show you how to eat it."
Once she'd paid, I said it with a beaming grin.
Ceria, a commoner by birth, had no close friends among her classmates.
Which made going to the dining hall unbearably awkward. After all, wasn't this exactly the age when eating alone felt mortifying? So she had no choice but to scrape by on meals from the academy tuck shop.
Then the shop had closed for a stretch, leaving her in a serious bind — until today, when word spread that it had reopened, and she hurried straight over.
And the sight that greeted her was utterly foreign. Bright lighting. Shelves crammed with products she couldn't begin to identify.
What's that?
What she guessed to be a storage case enchanted with refrigeration magic held rows of drinks, all neatly lined up. She'd barely begun inching through the strange landscape when—
"Welcome in!"
The sudden, ringing greeting made Ceria jump out of her skin. The black-haired young man looked rather young to be the shopkeeper.
She gave him a polite bow and looked around the interior. Curiously, every item for sale was individually packaged — treated with magic, perhaps? Everything looked immaculate.
"It's a snack with chocolate on top of a fried one."
Oh, it's a snack, not bread.
Hearing the shopkeeper's explanation, Ceria set the item back down. Her purse wasn't exactly flush, and she had no spare coin for treats. What she needed right now was a proper meal to fill her stomach.
The academy teemed with children of noble houses, but as mentioned, Ceria was a commoner. The allowance her family sent barely covered her living expenses, and the monthly stipend the academy paid for personal upkeep was stretched thin just buying textbooks and supplies.
And then something caught her eye.
It's exactly lunch money.
The shopkeeper had called the food she'd picked "gimbap." She had no way of knowing what that meant, but the explanation that it was a kind of lunch box won her over.
"I'll take this one."
After she paid, the shopkeeper kindly showed her how to eat it.
"This is called a microwave. It heats food up for you."
Ceria watched quietly as the shopkeeper placed the gimbap inside an iron box and pressed the buttons. Like the contraption at the side of the shop that blew cold air, it seemed to be a machine that fused magic and engineering — something crafted in a workshop, maybe?
Ding!
The moment the "microwave" chimed, the shopkeeper drew the gimbap out and peeled away the wrapper. Stripping off the strip at the top revealed something of a peculiar shape inside — at a glance, an assortment of ingredients gathered together and rolled up tight.
"It's pre-sliced, so you can just bite off one piece at a time. The stuff on the outside is seaweed — you eat it as-is."
With that, the shopkeeper handed it over.
"If you press up from the bottom with your fingers, the piece pushes out, so there's no need to unwrap it. It keeps your hands clean."
"I see…"
She didn't quite follow, but she took it anyway and examined its appearance once more. It was wrapped in some sort of thin, pitch-black film — but since she was meant to eat it, it clearly wasn't packaging. Besides, the outside glistened faintly as if brushed with oil, giving off a rich, nutty aroma she'd never once smelled in her life.
And the inside — white grains studded with little colorful pieces, all laid out neatly in the cross-section. A few of them she could guess. The green was cucumber, and the yellow was egg, maybe? The orange looked like it might be carrot…
But what were the golden one and the brownish one?
"Those are the rice and side dishes I mentioned."
Still utterly lost, but promised a full meal, she felt her anticipation building.
Nom.
Ceria gingerly bit off a piece of gimbap. The shopkeeper was watching her eat, which somehow made her feel a little embarrassed…
…!
The moment she chewed, Ceria's eyes went round. The first thing she tasted was the salty, savory richness of the seaweed wrapped around the outside. Then, right on its heels, the warm, fluffy rice. How could she even describe it? Soft yet springy, chewy and tender at once. It, too, was a texture she'd never known in her life.
And it didn't end there. The egg, perfectly seasoned, was delightfully bouncy, and the carrot gave a satisfying crunch. She'd never been especially fond of carrots, but whatever was in here was unmistakably different.
And then—
What's this slightly sweet one?
It crunched much like the carrot, but it was thinner — a slender, brownish vegetable she couldn't place.
"What's this one?"
When Ceria pointed at the mystery vegetable, the shopkeeper answered.
"That's called burdock root."
"Burdock…"
The girl murmured the word quietly and bit off another piece of gimbap. Chomp, chomp. She focused on the pleasant crunch of the burdock between her teeth.
"And this?"
This time she asked, pointing at a golden side dish with a sweet-and-tangy flavor.
"That's pickled radish — radish pickled in vinegar."
"Pickled radish…"
Ceria savored its crisp bite and its sweet-tart taste.
It's amazing.
The gimbap was a riot of colors, and every bite tasted as varied as it looked.
"How is it? Does it suit your taste?"
The shopkeeper asked, clearly brimming with expectation, and Ceria — flustered, for some reason — flushed faintly and gave a small reply.
"Yes…"
Then she added softly:
"I think I could eat this every day."
Of course, Ceria had no idea.
No idea that inside, the shopkeeper Dante was silently cheering at the top of his lungs.