The Delivery Rider
I'd been talking about being a delivery rider, but I never actually expected to become one. Now here I am, riding in a leather jacket, helmet, and boots, covering as much skin as possible. The wind feels good. Where am I headed? Mokpo, the port city in Jeollanam-do famous for its octopus. A place where I can look forward to that hearty regional accent. It has nothing to do with me personally, but the payment for the goods is overdue, so I'm taking on this side gig.
I'd been under a lot of stress from Flashmob's comments. It felt like there was pressure to resolve something quickly. From what I'd heard, once you reach executive level on Skylight, your temperature sits around 40 degrees, though there's no clear standard. The bank on Skylight requests support. Usually, if you recommend someone you manage or know, you get a performance bonus and a temperature boost. But apparently, none of the family members under him wanted the job. So when I asked, "Can't I just refuse?" he said there would be penalties. In the end, they dumped the job nobody else wanted on me.
After reporting my location and waiting, the Mokpo harbor comes into view. Seagulls are flying around, and ships are drifting in the distance. The sky looks beautiful too.
Time to head over. Hangdong Market is full of seafood, local snacks, and feels pretty empty. With all the talk about rural depopulation, even a decent-sized city like Mokpo has almost no people. I feel way too conspicuous. Leather gear and a helmet in this weather? Even if I asked a random passerby for directions, they'd probably remember me. I really hate standing out like this. It's too risky.
Flashmob had told me that just because it's a side job doesn't mean the work is simple. If it feels dangerous or like it could cost me my life, I should walk away. He'd cover for me—it wasn't that important. He was starting to feel like someone I could trust.
First, I found the rental scooter I'd brought and circled the market once, like a tourist. A wandering youth on a scooter! Then I ducked into a nearby Uniqlo and bought some shorts and a short-sleeve shirt. Gray, of course. In my opinion, gray stands out the least. After that, I checked into a lodging. It all felt natural, right? If some evil organization was tracking my movements, they'd think, "That kid's just here on vacation—no need to suspect him!" and cross me off the list.
In regional cities with markets, the peak hours for permanent stalls are around 5 a.m. It's not a club, so what are people doing at 5 a.m.? The main customers are the sleepless aunties. They bring lettuce, green onions, garlic, and whatever else they grow in their fields, sell it at the market, chat with neighbors, and head home around 8. I played the polite grandson role there, passed by stall 37, and looped around the market three times like a Möbius strip before finally approaching the owner.
"Hello, ma'am."
"Oh, welcome! What can I get you?"
"My grandmother said she placed an order here. Number 37, I think?"
"Ah, that one? Just a moment."
She brought out soy sauce marinated crab. The crabs looked plump and delicious, but I took it, thanked her politely, and walked out naturally. This is a ten-million-won side job? What the hell?
After reporting in, I walked naturally through the market and returned to my lodging.
I took a nap, and when I woke up, a message had arrived. I changed out of my gray disguise into regular clothes and got ready to leave. At least the wind felt nice. But these guys are thorough while making people miserable—that's just their daily routine.
Motorcycles aren't allowed on the highway, so I had no choice but to rent a Socar from Gunsan. When I arrived at the rest area, tourists and truck drivers were grabbing meals. I stepped outside to check the vehicle—it was an electric car. The other side looked so natural that it wouldn't raise suspicion. Out of habit, I circled the area three times, stopped by the local store, and bought a hot bar. I zoned out in the bathroom, went back to the store, and watched to see if I'd been made. Seemed fine. I returned to the car, casually placed the soy sauce crab in the truck bed like I was just delivering food, got back in, and drove off without looking back.
My gut told me there was probably drugs in that crab, but I didn't dare open it and risk looking suspicious. I followed orders exactly. And our trustworthy bank hyung sent the payment right away. After that, I went back to being a wandering youth, stopped by Gangwon-do, and returned to Bondam where the wild dog brothers live. When I opened the app again, I'd been promoted to 36.9 degrees.
After finishing the job and barely meeting my quota, I decided to take Flashmob's advice. I needed to make money. But thanks to our muscle typhoon hyung, we were out of product. I got permission from Blueandgreen hyung and the Vietnamese guy, then asked Flashmob to line up another job.
While asking Flashmob for work, I got what felt like a backhanded compliment—or maybe a threat. I did do well, right?
Our Skylight lord is way too thorough. Even for side jobs, he runs verification checks.
Ugh, ugh! What the hell? I'm currently confirming the contents of my lunch from the boat ride. The job Flashmob set me up with was picking up something from Ulleungdo. Similar to the Mokpo job, but the pay was double, so I jumped at it. Truth is, I'd never even been on a boat before, let alone to Ulleungdo. Blinded by the money, I boarded confidently, but thirty minutes after departure I was running to the bathroom. And I've been going every five minutes since. The auntie next to me is laughing, saying it's too much. The waves aren't even that bad today, so how am I supposed to last another three hours? I really curse that muscle-head Typhoon hyung!
Completely drained, I finally arrived in Ulleungdo. The meeting point was the fish shop at Sadong Port, but the requirements were ridiculously detailed—travel itinerary, timing, even a visit to Dokdo. I found a place to stay and rested. It was exhausting. The next morning at 8 a.m., I took the ferry from Dodong Port to Dokdo and did the three-bow-one-prostration ritual the whole way. I'd taken motion sickness medicine and stuck on those patches, but nothing worked. Apparently some people are just born with severe seasickness. I guess I'm one of them.
Luckily, I got to set foot on Dokdo. They say 30% of the time you can't even depart if you want to see Dokdo, and another 30% you can't dock. Even if you manage to dock, fog usually blocks the view. I must've prayed a lot—I couldn't stop grinning to myself. Nobody else seemed to be doing the three-bow ritual. I did it again on the way back to Ulleungdo. Then I rested at the lodging. I had no idea bowing could be this hard. How do monks do 108 prostrations? That evening I stopped by Sadong Port and bought squid like a patriotic youth visiting Dokdo. Of course, it was the spot the bank hyung had specified. The grandma there was so kind I almost wanted to come back. Said I reminded her of her grandson. I called an Ulleungdo taxi, toured Nari Basin and the planned airport site, then returned to my lodging.
That night I thought about it. Why does the bank need that squid? What the hell? No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't figure it out. Flashmob told me to let go of curiosity. He said to let it go. So I did. I just need to get paid for the job. The next day, as ordered, I took the first ferry and did the three-bow ritual again. Never getting on a boat again after this! I reported completion to the bank and waited for the next instructions when the payment came through. What? And then I got caught by the police.