Is It My Fault This Time Too?
Since our interests aligned, I ordered the yam and fried chicken set. “Here’s your order—enjoy it while it’s hot. Oh, and our chicken is both crispy and flavorful, so rest assured.”
“Ah, I see… thank you.”
Even though no other customers were there besides me, I still felt a little guilty being in someone else’s shop.
I lowered my voice as much as possible while chatting with the viewers and moderators, pretending it was a group discussion.
But it turned out the chicken shop owner could still hear me perfectly.
I guess it was because the woman’s voice carried higher frequency than a man’s, so it sounded clearer.
That must be why the owner thought I was yelling at the viewers.
Things like, “Chicken has to be crispy— if it’s soggy, you might as well eat Samgyetang instead.”
It could have looked strange.
But he didn’t show any weird reaction. Instead, he cleverly used the words I’d been saying to the viewers.
So I was grateful.
Though not really outgoing, it still felt like too much pressure for me.
I hurriedly prepared to leave the chicken shop.
There wasn’t much to pack. It was already packaged to carry out, but the weight felt heavier than I expected.
“Hmm, it’s heavier than I thought. I should’ve brought a bag.”
I realized something I’d overlooked.
Because the chicken was so heavy, holding it in one hand while gripping my cane felt awkward.
When I was a man, I never even noticed the weight of food I carried home, let alone consider it a problem.
My armpits and palms were already aching from carrying just my own weight.
Adding the chicken on top made it genuinely burdensome.
Still, it wasn’t too heavy to carry.
I could manage it if I thought of it as exercise.
If I got tired along the way, I could set it down and rest for a moment.
There were benches scattered around, so I didn’t even have to put it on the ground.
Only ten or twenty minutes of breaks, and the chicken wouldn’t get soggy anyway.
The real problem was that I wasn’t just buying chicken.
On the way home, I’d planned to stop by the pharmacy and grab a box of Bacchus.
If the chicken was this heavy, could I even carry a whole box of Bacchus with one hand?
If it were just carrying it normally, I could’ve managed.
But I was holding my cane too.
Even now, while gripping the chicken, my hand with the cane kept shifting forward and backward like I was trying to balance on a double pendulum.
If I added the Bacchus on top of that… it really would be risky.
“Everyone. A problem came up. I can handle the chicken, but carrying the Bacchus too might be too dangerous. It’s harder than I thought to walk while holding something with my cane. I should’ve brought a bag. Next time, I’ll do that.”
So I muttered to myself while walking.
Actually, it was a line I’d said to our viewers in my shirt pocket.
“Bringing the chicken home and then going to the pharmacy is a waste of time and the chicken will get soggy. Taking the chicken to the security guard and coming back alone just feels like cheating. Hiding the chicken somewhere and running to the pharmacy… will stray cats or pigeons steal it?”
I wasn’t really trying to keep it a secret.
I’d just explained my situation and was planning to rest on a bench and ask the viewers’ opinions.
I couldn’t think of a solution alone, but if we all put our heads together, maybe someone would come up with an idea.
That’s the point of collective intelligence, after all.
Just before crossing the crosswalk, I sat on the bench under the shaded area that the elderly used.
I checked the chat.
While I wasn’t looking at the chat, the viewers who had been talking about me suddenly gave me a solution.
They were worried I’d get entangled with weird people and offered skeptical opinions, but it still sounded pretty appealing.
I hadn’t given interviews because there was nothing in it for me.
I didn’t want money or anything—just didn’t like how they tried to feed on me.
But if they helped me carry one box of Bacchus?
It could easily be a fair trade.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll talk to them if I run into them on the way.”
Even though viewers’ concern for me grew louder, the way reporters were portrayed was so bad that I decided to accept some mental attack.
“Why would I avoid giving an interview if they’re going to write malicious articles anyway? Or twist what I said? If they’re going to write something weird, it might be better to just let them mix in a few lines.”
“But while playing League of Champions, I can just ignore the weird stuff. It’s fine.”
In this case, I had nothing to lose.
Maybe just a little time.
Bringing the chicken home and then going to the pharmacy, or stopping at the pharmacy and finishing everything in one trip— the time would be the same.
So the less movement the better.
Just as the light turned green and I was about to stand up and cross the street, two reporters approached from the opposite side with smug smiles.
“Oh, you were just having lunch. We almost disturbed you without knowing. The chicken looks heavy, doesn’t it? Kim reporter, let me take that.”
“Ah, yes. We’ll carry it all the way home for you.”
I didn’t know whether they’d been tailing me or had abandoned their ambush, but since our interests aligned, I was secretly glad they showed up.
Of course, I had no intention of letting them into my house.
I was reluctant to let strangers in, even if it was the neighbor lady or Celestine.
……If they asked why only them, I might just say they have no ill intent.
“It’s because of the interview, right? Then we can make a deal. I’m going to the pharmacy to get a box of Bacchus, so if you help me carry it, I’ll give you a three-line summary of the interview.”
“Huh? Really? That’s fine?”
“Yes. Then I don’t need to carry the chicken. I’ll do the interview on this promenade ahead and leave quickly.”
So I drew a line and tried to separate after getting what I needed.
But the male reporter kept reaching out toward my precious chicken.
“No. I’ll carry it.”
I thought maybe he was being polite like Koreans do, or maybe he was reading the female reporter’s eyes.
I tried to avoid this excessive kindness, but twisting my hand with the cane was useless.
Finally, the reporter grabbed the chicken I’d just bought.
“It’s fine.”
“No, you must be in pain holding only the cane, so let me take it….”
“Ah…!”
Annoyed by the constant fussing, I twisted my body once hard.
I had only managed to keep myself from falling.
That was enough to tear the plastic bag a little.
And because of something so small, everything fell apart.
The corner of the chicken box poked through the gap and pierced the bag.
Before I could even move my hands, the yam and fried chicken set was no longer packaged.
Of course. The paper box was only meant to hold the fried chicken.
It couldn’t protect the chicken from scattering due to the fall.
“Kim reporter!”
“No, the Park reporter said I should carry it….”
“Even if you don’t like it, you should step back a little!”
I just stared blankly at the scattered chicken.
Whether reporters fought or not was none of my business.
Two hours had gone by to finally get this chicken.
I hadn’t paid them with money, but I had endured all this to bring it home.
This precious food was supposed to cure my hunger that was almost thirty hours old….
So disappointed that I couldn’t even feel my strength.
Maybe I was just hungry.
Up until now I’d held on with the will to eat the chicken the moment I got home.
Now I didn’t have the strength to walk home, so I just stood there blankly.
“Sorry, I’ll buy new chicken for you. First, let’s get off this dangerous crosswalk. I’ll carry you.”
“Reporter Park, even though I’m a man, I can carry you.”
“Who would want to be carried by someone who dropped the chicken! Just hold the cane and buy chicken!”
“No, that’s what Reporter Park ordered….”
Just as I was about to lie down right there in the middle of the road, Reporter Park picked me up and carried me across the street.