The Second Customer Arrives (1)
Gwak Sang-hyeon, the deputy leader of the Black Eagle Gang who had come to capture Yoo Hwa-yeon after she entered Sapa territory and ended up passing out, slowly opened his eyes.
"Ugh......"
Murmured voices buzzed loudly around him.
"You think he'll wake up like this?"
"No way. Hungry people always snap awake at the smell of Namen."
"The head chef's got way too much confidence."
"It's all statistically proven."
Sniff sniff. Gwak Sang-hyeon twitched his nose and stirred. An incredibly savory, sweet aroma wafted over him. What was that? He was certain he'd never smelled anything like it before.
"Oh! His eyes are open!"
"Whoa, he really woke up?"
As his vision cleared, a man and a woman crouched in front of him, staring right at him. Recognizing who they were, Gwak Sang-hyeon jolted upright and scrambled backward.
"Kuh!"
His shoulder, stabbed by Yoo Hwa-yeon, throbbed with pain. He pressed his hand to it for hemostasis and felt something firm. Bandages, apparently. Had they treated him?
"Must hurt."
"Yeah."
Gwak Sang-hyeon stared in cognitive dissonance at the two casually chatting in front of him. Weren't these the enemies he'd been fighting to the death? Was it okay to let them this close? He'd clawed his way up to deputy leader of the Black Eagle Gang, surviving solely on strength and martial prowess. He couldn't get used to this kind of everyday concern no matter how hard he tried.
"Why didn't you kill me?"
Gwak Sang-hyeon warily groped for his greatsword. Gone.
"What, wanna swing that thing again?"
The man in the weird purple vest asked. Of course. You're the enemy. As he scanned the surroundings with that thought, he spotted his greatsword. It stood blatantly behind a low platform about waist-high, roughly ten paces away at his stride. With footwork, he could grab it in two or three steps. But if Yoo Hwa-yeon attacked? Gwak Sang-hyeon began devising a plan that assumed minimal damage.
Perhaps hearing the gears turning in his head, Yoo Hwa-yeon growled.
"Move a muscle, and I'll shatter your dantian."
The man beside her then scolded in a mock-stern tone.
"Tsk. We agreed no fighting inside the convenience store."
"But Head Chef! We saved his life, and all he does is plot to kill us!"
Saved his life? Why on earth? Gwak Sang-hyeon couldn't comprehend it. In his life, losing meant death. If the opponent didn't kill you, you killed them. That's who Gwak Sang-hyeon was.
"Why'd you save me?"
He was curious, at least. If they'd taken his sword without him noticing, he'd been out cold deep. Plenty of time to kill him, right?
Jeonghyeon replied.
"Why would we kill you? Sure, smashing up the convenience store was really annoying, but that's not a death sentence."
Not a death sentence? Wasn't it natural to die without power, even without committing a crime?
"Hungry? Try this."
Gwak Sang-hyeon came face-to-face with the source of that savory, sweet, rich aroma. It looked like charred food waste. His brow furrowed.
"Trying to poison me outright? Ha! Your arrogance pierces the heavens!"
That's what he thought. It had to be poisoned. Why else would it be charred beyond recognition?
"Poison?"
"Yeah! Poison......"
Yoo Hwa-yeon smacked the back of his head.
"You bastard. I gave you special new Namen even I haven't tried, and you call it poison? Wanna die for real?"
"Tsk. Yoo Hwa-yeon. Forgot our promise?"
"Head Chef! Even so, this guy's insulting the sacred Namen by calling it poison!"
"You said the same at first—what kind of cheap crap is this? Everyone does at first."
"But......"
What the hell was this conversation? Gwak Sang-hyeon floundered, unsure what expression to make, when Jeonghyeon shoved the ramen cup at him. With wooden chopsticks.
"Not poison. Just eat it. Won't give seconds even if you beg."
"Right! This costs five coins. I paid for mine—why's this punk griping over a freebie?"
Gwak Sang-hyeon stared blankly at the black bean Namen in front of him. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed utterly unappetizing. Not like proper food—more like something from the devil's kitchen. Still, he picked up the chopsticks. He'd expected a burnt smell, but it was sweet and savory. His brain screamed not to eat, but his nose and empty stomach begged for it. So he scooped up one chopstickful. Curly, shriveled noodles. How much pounding and frying to shrink them like that? Anyway, they said it wasn't poisoned. Plus, he was hungry from the fight. They'd undeniably spared his life, and it smelled good. Gwak Sang-hyeon squeezed his eyes shut and slurped.
Slurp!
"......?"
What? Why is this...... Slurp! Why's it so good? Slurp! Oh shit. Fucking delicious. Not burnt at all. Slurp! Huh? Where'd it go? The ramen cup was empty, white bottom staring back. Looking up in a daze, two faces smirked knowingly at him.
"Good, right?"
"Told you it'd be insanely good. A taste like nothing else."
Gwak Sang-hyeon nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Yeah, it's so good......"
Drip. Something ran down his cheek. Wiping it with his hand, it was a thin droplet. Tears? Me? The brutal deputy of the Black Eagle Gang? Showing tears? He was grateful they'd saved him, grateful for the food.
"H-Head Chef! Just one more bowl, please......"
"Five coins, sir."
***
The man who introduced himself as Gwak Sang-hyeon, deputy of the Black Eagle Gang, bought the kimchi I threw in and was inhaling his ramen.
"Eat fast and get out. And don't come hunting me again. Not 'cause I'm scared—just can't have the inn wrecked anymore."
"Om nom nom!"
"What? Finish and talk. Spraying everywhere!"
"Munch munch!"
I lit a cigarette and listened to their chatter.
"By the way, how much did they offer you?"
Gwak Sang-hyeon glanced at me mid-bite.
"Five gold ingots."
Whoa, damn. Five gold ingots? That'd pay off the convenience store debt and more. Killing intent was wrong, sure, but five ingots? Eyes would spin. Feeling guilty for even thinking it, I snapped at him unnecessarily.
"Money's important, but you can't just kill people!"
Face flushing like he had a lot to say, Gwak Sang-hyeon swallowed his noodles.
"Why not? Killing vile Jeongpa scum is worth five coins to do myself. Hypocritical bastards hiding behind 'righteousness' to line their pockets!"
"What? Vile? You filthy Sapa dogs!"
The two slammed the table and stood, foreheads nearly touching. I quietly cleared their ramen bowls without a word.
"Head Chef! I haven't finished!"
"I know. Keep fighting. I'll make sure you never eat again."
At my words, they turned into obedient puppies and plopped back into their chairs. Couldn't do anything about those blazing eyes, though. Basically, each saw the other as evil. Probably some backstory I didn't know. I'd only read the novel twice, and season 1 just introduced Murim folk. If I was isekai'd for season 2, I'd have to learn from now on. Anyway, my goal was just the convenience store's peace, so I didn't pry. They'd draw swords any second if I did.
Leaving the two in a tense truce, I headed to the front door. Time for a solo smoke.
As I puffed, lost in thought. Why was I sent to this novel's Murim world? Some reason? I'd wondered since arriving, but no answers. Not just to run a store, surely. Maybe tied to season 2—pure guess. Out of everyone, why me? The cigarette burned down short as I pondered. I tapped off the ash and tossed it in the trash. Pay off the debt steadily, survive, and I'd figure it out eventually. Why I was here.
***
"Alright, this is the Namen corner. Next to it is bread."
I was teaching Yoo Hwa-yeon, now officially on staff, the ropes. First step for convenience store clerks: know where everything is inside out. In modern stores, customers grab and go, but not in Murim. Had to cook and serve, so essential training.
"Corner? Head Chef, what does that even mean? Corner... corner..."
Whoops. Konglish slip. Force of habit.
"Uh, y'know—the Namen spot. The bread spot. Like that."
"You're so strange sometimes, Head Chef. Spouting incomprehensible words."
Haha. Gotta watch it from now on.
"This one's buy one, get one free."
"What? Buy one, get another? Give that away, what's left?"
"Yeah. Just a promo. Promo."
"Ah. Strategy to stand out from other inns. Got it."
Yoo Hwa-yeon started peppering me with curious kid questions.
"Bread? This is bread? Po... how do you read this, Head Chef?"
She held up a cutely illustrated loaf. Pokemon bread. All Konglish, so she couldn't read it.
"Uh, it's stickers... no, Pocket Monsters... wait."
Damn. How to explain?
"Y'see, pictures of beasts that fit in your pocket. Called Pokemon bread, but just... think bread. Yeah."
Explaining got annoying. Beasts in pockets? She tilted her head, probably wondering if such things existed.
"Pet bread, then. I've raised one. Cute little puppy."
Pet bread? Not entirely wrong. Grateful she got it herself. For real.
"And this fridge has drinks and booze."
Opening the door, Yoo Hwa-yeon jumped.
"Th-this! How does such intense cold come from this tiny box? Made of millennial cold iron? Head Chef, I can't fathom how rich you really are. And you get that mad over a broken inn? Sell just this, build dozens more."
"Hey. No matter how rich, wrecked inn's a whole other issue. Don't slyly dodge responsibility."
"Ahem."
Plus, not millennial cold iron. Some items might fetch good prices in Murim, but no way I'd sell store gear.
As I showed her around, ding-a-ling—the door bell rang.
"What do we say for customers?"
"Welcome!"
I tabled the lesson and headed to the counter. The customer was a neatly dressed martial artist in his twenties. Blue robe suited the young man well. If not for the heavy shadows under his eyes, I wouldn't have tensed up.
Sometimes you get those customers. Ones with some heavy backstory vibe. Problem was, they often meant trouble.
"Innkeeper. I'm starving. Got a meal?"
Yoo Hwa-yeon peeked at the newcomer and whispered behind me.
"Wudang Sect robes. What brings him to Sapa turf?"
I smiled friendly-like at the customer. Second guest seemed to be from the Wudang Sect.