The Big Sister Who Buys Me Meals

Vrrr. Vrrr. Vrrr.

The smartphone perched on the bedside table buzzed briefly. In this day and age, Kim Soyeon knew of exactly one person who still communicated by smartphone. Most people used magic-based communication; those who relied on machines to reach someone were a vanishingly rare breed.

But Lee Yumin clung to her smartphone, repeating the same line over and over — 'You never know when your mana might cut out. And you want to depend on magic for that?'

Unkindly put, she was an idiot; charitably put, she was thorough about contingencies. And yet Kim Soyeon didn't dislike that side of her. Even when Yumin obsessed over hamburgers like a madwoman, or stayed perpetually broke despite clearly not lacking money, Soyeon still looked on her favorably. After all, Yumin was exactly the kind of "person who lived earnestly" that Soyeon liked.

There was no special reason behind it. One day, completely out of the blue, Yumin had called and abruptly demanded space in one of her buildings, saying she wanted to open a naming office. At first, Soyeon turned the proposal down. But after hanging up and turning it over in her mind, she realized it wasn't a bad idea at all.

'It just so happens I have a vacant building. Might as well accept — it sounds like fun.'

Truthfully, she'd simply grown curious about what kind of person calls out of nowhere and demands a building.

"Mmmmmh…."

Before checking her phone, Kim Soyeon sat up in bed and stretched. Then she picked up the now-silent smartphone and read the flood of messages from Lee Yumin.

When she finished reading, Kim Soyeon tossed the smartphone back onto the bed. Knowing Yumin, there would be no follow-up contact.

Still, though.

"Yumin's little sister…? She had one of those?" Yumin rarely talked about her family, so Soyeon had no way of knowing. Of course, magic could have told her.

"I wonder if she'll march straight off to jail." Under the personal information protection laws, that was exactly where she'd be headed. Magic could accomplish anything and everything, yet inside the vast living organism called society, it was merely one tiny cog.

Abandoning her would-be crime, Kim Soyeon lay back down on the bed.

"I do wonder what she's like."

She let herself imagine the little sister she would be meeting before long.

"———! ———! ———! ———!" (I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it!)

[——————.]

"————!!" (Waaahhh!!)

[——————.]

Bang! Bababang! Babababang!

The sofa in the naming office was being pummeled without mercy. Yumin grumbled from beside me that I was making too much noise, but I had no choice — this boiling embarrassment had to be released somewhere.

To think I had to introduce myself to the landlord as Yumin's little sister. I had to play a little sister who didn't even exist, and act as little like Yumin as possible while doing it, didn't I?

'C-c-c-can I actually pull this off?'

Honestly, it wouldn't be easy. Ask yourself: 'Am I really so distinctive that I'd be picked out of a crowd?'

"———!" (Of course I am!)

Someone obsessed with hamburgers, occasionally brainless, constantly muttering to herself, and glued to her own house — how many people like that could there possibly be? No matter what I looked like now, the normal reaction would be, 'Wait, aren't you Yumin?!'

And so, as I was alone, pounding the sofa and screaming—

Ding-a-ling!

The naming office door swung open without warning.

"?"

It was Saturday. The sign reading 'Closed Sat & Sun' should have been plastered right there on the door.

"Oh, the door was open so I let myself in — are you not open today?" And with those words, she was shamelessly strolling into the office.

I smoothly rose out of my sofa-pummeling posture and straightened my back all prim and proper — no, absolutely not!! I hurriedly hunched my shoulders forward, nipping that stiff, upright bearing in the bud.

"Huh? What are you doing?"

"———, ——————." (Oh, n-nothing at all.)

For an instant, the eyes of the woman who had invaded my office wavered. She walks into a naming office, and some mute stranger greets her — her look was brimming with distrust and suspicion.

I pressed my thumbnail hard into the tip of my index finger. I should never have opened my mouth so carelessly. I'd let my guard down. I scrambled to my feet to search for paper and a pen—

[Yuna, you are a mage.]

Yumin's voice rang clear through my head once more. Magic. It wasn't that I couldn't use it. Anyone living on Earth, anyone belonging to this world, possessed mana. I simply lacked confidence.

[A mage who can't use magic. Do you actually hear how that sounds?]

'…No.'

[You are me. Yumin Asir, the mage who reached the Celestial Realm. There is no way you can't do this.]

Once I'd heard her out, one spell surfaced in my mind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— perfect for this exact situation.

'Text Box.'

Text Box was a spell that conjured a virtual box in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠midair and inscribed words upon it. It was mainly used for covert exchanges of intent, but overshadowed by superior spells like telepathy and far-voice, it had been demoted to elementary magic in Korea — that's how simple it was.

The truth was, magic didn't have to be difficult. There were plenty of spells that were both simple and devastatingly effective. What mattered was confidence. The conviction that you could do it was the single most important thing. No matter how much theory and mana you possessed, without that confidence, a spell would never activate.

'An incalculable-rank mage is watching over me — where exactly is the room for failure here?!'

A celestial-rank mage, said to have transcended humanity itself, lived inside me — no, wait. She is me. Whatever the case. Yumin said it herself, didn't she? There was no way I couldn't do this.

I let out a soft breath and pictured a rectangle floating in the air. I knew the theory cold. Even a slow learner, put through Korea's relentless rote-education mill, would have it hammered into their bones. I revived the sensation of the Fireball I'd cast and seized the first thread of chantless casting.

I scanned the office into my mind, then reproduced everything in the scanned region inside my head. 'Don't perceive reality as reality — imagine the world layered on top of it.' Within that layered world, I was omnipotent. When I floated a box in the space where reality and my mental world overlapped, a blue rectangular box rose into reality at the exact same position.

Text began inscribing itself, character by character, across the box that had appeared before my customer.

With an awkward smile, I bowed my head toward the customer. I don't normally take Saturday customers, so count yourself lucky. Since the problem solved itself, consider this a special service.

"Thank you!!" And with that, the customer who had barged into my office on a Saturday kicked the door open on her way out.

A little while after she left, I stepped outside and put up a sign that read 'We're not open today!'

Not that Koreans — a people who push doors marked Pull and pull doors marked Push — were ever going to register the words 'Closed Sat & Sun.' Apparently I'd been overestimating my fellow Koreans.

Having planted the big notice in front of the door, I sat back down on the sofa and wiped the sweat from my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forehead. See? This is why a person needs to work. If the only reason I felt this way was because I got paid for it… well. Yes, actually. I love money.

'Heehee. With this money, I'm buying clothes.' I couldn't keep skating by in a single T-shirt forever. The pants were fine, but my tops were in genuine danger.

'I should order soon, before another customer shows up…' — except the customer who'd just left had also come only two days after the last one.

'Hm.' I decided to just browse at my leisure with Yumin instead.

"——————————?" (Yumin, what style of clothes do you usually wear?)

[——————? ————————.]

'You wear whatever your mom buys you? Did reaching the Celestial Realm scramble your brain or something?'

[——————!]

I'd just pick whatever I liked. If I listened to her, I'd end up dressed like some mad mage cosplaying the Middle Ages.

After ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, Yumin and I browsed women's clothing online together. Between Yumin marveling at modern fashion like a tourist and me having zero feel for women's clothes, we made no progress whatsoever. In the end I simply picked the most unremarkable outfit among the combinations with the most hearts.

"———. ——————?" (Oh, right. What's your cup size?)

[——————?]

'What kind of unit is "a valley" or "seven leaves"?'

So you were one of those filthy imperial-unit people all along? In that case, I could forgive y——

Ding-a-ling!

"?"

What kind of absolute lunatic can waltz right in even after reading a sign that says 'We're not open today!'

I tore my eyes from the laptop plastered with clothing sites in every direction and looked toward the door. There stood someone vaguely familiar—

'The landlord?'

No, why on earth are you here? Damn it — maybe taking that customer earlier had been the mistake. I should never have overlooked the fact that the landlord could be watching this place through the CCTV at any given moment.

"So you're Yumin's little sister? You got here faster than I expected."

The tone was noticeably friendlier than the landlord I usually dealt with. I was caught off guard — I'd assumed she only ever kept up that stiff, businesslike front, but apparently there was a soft side to her too.

I gave a small bow and greeted my sudden visitor.

Even though I wasn't speaking aloud, it felt like the corners of my mouth were twisting. To think that I, a man's man to the core, would ever be using the word oppa.

[——————.]

'Don't! Laugh!'

The landlord watched me conversing through the Text Box with unconcealed curiosity, but she quickly let the wonder fade from her expression and came closer, friendly and at ease.

"Yumi—"

I flinched.

"—she didn't get hurt too badly, did she?"

"Mm. Really? And what's your name?"

My name? Most people would wrack their brains over a moment like this, but I didn't find it the least bit difficult. Naming things was all I'd ever done with my life — what would be the point of struggling now? I rose calmly from my seat and floated up my text.

My face burned hot at my first-ever acting performance, sweat trickling down my spine. Even I wasn't sure I was doing it right. I was praying the landlord hadn't noticed a thing.

[——————.]

'I don't know either, so pipe down.'

The landlord rolled my name around in her mouth a few times, then held out her hand.

"I'm Kim Soyeon — I own this building. Yuna, are you hungry? Want to go grab something to eat?"

Excuse me? And how did you know I was hungry — and that I'd want to go eat?

I took the landlord's hand and shook it up and down. It carried a double meaning: a polite please take care of me, as Yuna, and an entirely sincere if you're buying, I'll eat well.

As expected of the nirvana-class people person whose approval I had once granted. Someone offers to buy you food and you wouldn't follow? I follow.

The landlord touched a finger to her lips, pondered for a moment, and then opened her mouth.

"Want to go get hamburgers?"

And how did you know I like hamburgers…?

My eyes wavered ever so slightly at the landlord's suspicious choice of cuisine, but I quickly regained my composure and threw both arms up into the air.

The landlord is the only one for me!!