The Scout (3)

"A maid café? No—a maid noodle shop?"

I stared, still not quite processing it, at the woman making this thoroughly absurd declaration.

Her name was Im Yujin. She'd introduced herself as twenty-four, and she didn't want a salary.

I'd already been feeling guilty about my little sister helping out at the shop every day after school, so I didn't really have a reason to turn her down.

…Well, judging by how hard she worked, it was a net gain for me. The catch was that they knew who I really was. They clearly had an agenda.

Doesn't matter.

I was confident I could weather whatever came my way. It wasn't a problem for me.

More than that… she seems a little unhinged.

She'd suddenly asked if she could work in a maid outfit.

This was a noodle shop. Something about sales going up, or whatever.

I wasn't some exploitative boss who demanded the world from his part-timers. All I wanted was some serving, basically.

"Anyway, you're really okay with this, right? You can't go reporting us later or anything."

"Of course. Unpaid labor is my favorite thing in the world. Mine, and especially this guy's."

"…Really?"

"Y-yes, of course!"

"Don't go asking for anything else in return. Well… depending on what you do, I might be able to lend a small hand."

I'll throw in a carrot, too.

What they wanted was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠obvious. Government people. In my previous life, they'd been desperate to pull me in, and they were no different now. They'd probably come prepared with rewards that would make anyone's jaw drop. Not that I had any intention of taking them…

…Snuffing out a few monsters on the sly isn't exactly difficult.

There was something called a Roulette Gate—a Gate that appeared without warning in the middle of a city.

I'd said I wouldn't become a Hunter, but I was willing to help out that much. If a Gate popped up in the neighborhood, sales would tank, after all.

I'd been planning to do it anyway. If I could take credit for something I was already going to do, even better.

…I was using them as free labor. The least I could do was throw them a bone.

"We don't need a contract. Let's work on trust."

"Of course. You may not trust us yet, but we'll earn it, little by little."

"Th-that's right!"

"I haven't caught your name, though. What is it?"

"I'm Saerom. Lee Saerom."

The junior, obviously. Yujin's the senior.

I had the situation figured out in an instant. One question lingered, though. I'd never seen either of them in my previous life, which meant they were either in some backwater post, or they'd already been gone by the time I joined up.

I'll look into that later. They're family now, after all.

Family. It was a bit much to say about people I'd just met, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I settled my mindset all the same.

…It definitely had nothing to do with the, ahem, caliber of what I'd gotten an eyeful of last night.

"Then I'll take that as your approval for us to work in maid outfits."

"Uh, I never agreed to that?"

Yujin, coming out with another completely unhinged statement. I looked at her like she was some kind of exotic specimen.

She didn't so much as blink.

"Forgive me, but based on my analysis, this restaurant is on the verge of going under. Am I wrong?"

"…It's not that bad."

"Twelve-thirty p.m. This should be peak lunch hour. A noodle shop—not even a bar—with no customers at lunch is a serious problem. And noodle shops already operate on razor-thin margins as it is."

A massive dagger came flying in and buried itself in my heart.

Yujin's expression didn't change as she drove the nail in. The problem was that not a single word of it was wrong.

"That's not an issue."

I had my pride, though. I denied it outright.

Maybe in my last life. This one's different.

"And why is that?"

"Because my noodles are delicious."

"…Yes. They are. I tried them earlier, so I know."

"A restaurant wins on flavor. Word of mouth will spread, little by little."

"No. It won't."

"Excuse me?"

"No matter how good the noodles are, they're still just noodles."

I sat there, freshly stunned.

No matter how good the noodles are, they're still just noodles…? I have S-rank hands, you know?

I hadn't expected that from someone who'd actually eaten them.

"You'll make some money, of course. But all you'll build is a handful of regulars. They're noodles. They're awkward to post on Instagram, and even harder to get famous as a destination restaurant."

"We use good ingredients. If we approach this sincerely, the customers will recognize that."

This was no longer a question of the power dynamic between an S-rank Hunter and a government agent. This was a matter of pride.

"Whether the ingredients in a bowl of noodles are good or not, people don't really care."

…The more I argued, the more I felt like a restaurant owner getting piled on in the comments of some kitchen-nightmare TV show.

"Noodles are the textbook value meal. Your pricing is already off, but I won't ask you to lower it. If the food won't do it, you compete on service."

"And that service is… maids?"

I could concede the rest, but this I could not understand. This wasn't Japan. What kind of shameless combination was noodles and maids?

Who would even want to eat here? It'd be too awkward.

"Then how about this."

"Look, we don't need any of that. Just handle the serving, roughly, and—"

"You just make the noodles, sir. We'll take care of the rest of the service ourselves."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What?"

"Then you can see the results with your own eyes over the next month, and decide for yourself."

Yujin's eyes were full of confidence.

…Should I give it a shot?

No. Maids were still a bit much, no matter how you sliced it.

I was confident I could succeed without resorting to any of that. I had the skill, after all. And I wasn't an idiot—I'd even been considering TV appearances.

I was still turning it over when—

Ding-a-ling.

A customer walked in.

"Ah, is this really happening?"

I turned toward the dining room with a grimace.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Welcome home, Master!"

Yujin, who had maintained a deadpan the entire time, was now greeting customers in an impossibly cute voice, as if the other version of her had never existed.

I checked the customers' faces. Just as I'd expected.

…They looked thoroughly bewildered.

One of them was so busy staring at the two bizarre women that he couldn't even tell whether he was eating his noodles with his mouth or his nose.

How was anyone supposed to taste anything like that?

This is wrong no matter how you look at it. I'm a regressor. I don't need to throw a Hail Mary like this.

In the end, I sent out the last customer's noodles and stepped outside alone for a moment.

Right on cue, someone came in.

"Welco— oh, you guys made it."

I'd started the greeting on instinct and stopped. The "customer" was my little sister.

Look at this kid, making friends already.

Yoo Sia dipped her head in a polite bow. A well-mannered friend. Maybe even more than that. I liked her a lot.

"Oh my, is this lovely young lady the young master's little sister?"

"It's young miss."

"That's right. Hello, young miss."

I am actually going to lose my mind.

Chaewon swept a look around the shop, then her face went blank with disbelief.

"…Oppa?"

Chaewon looked at me with an expression that demanded an explanation.

Young miss? What even is that?

I'd already hated the concept, so I said it.

"Can you drop that weird act?"

"You don't know much about marketing, do you, Mr. Seonghun."

Yujin shed the cute voice in an instant and spoke in a tone of ice-cold professionalism.

"I'm certain this will help the shop's sales. Maid cafés. You've heard of them, I assume?"

I sighed.

"Listen… this is a noodle shop."

And then—

"Hey! Han Seonghun!! Who the hell are these people?!"

Chaewon shrieked.

A black Sonata.

Yujin and Saerom climbed in after finishing the day's work.

Saerom's face was flushed. She'd done as her superior ordered, but calling complete strangers "Master, Master" was not an easy thing. Not at her age.

"T-Team Leader, is this actually going to work? I did it because you told me to, but putting on a maid outfit at my age makes me want to bite my tongue and die."

"Just hang in there a little longer. We need him to recognize what we can do."

Yujin crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat.

"First priority is figuring out what he likes and what he hates. The honey trap, whatever else—we try everything we've got."

"That's our Team Leader! A veteran really is different!"

Yujin felt a twinge of guilt, like she was lying to a child about Santa Claus. But she hadn't said anything untrue. Han Seonghun. She already had a gut feeling that depending on this man's choices, a great deal about South Korea was going to change.

"So, did you look into what I asked about earlier?"

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Saerom pulled out the laptop installed in the vehicle.

Yujin had ordered her to look into Seonghun's little sister. To earn his trust, they needed to get close to the people close to him.

"Close friend: Yoo Sia. Awakened ability is—"

"Wait."

Yujin raised a hand, and Saerom stopped the briefing.

"Yoo Sia?"

"…Yes. Yoo Sia."

Yujin's pupils dilated.

"The high school girl standing next to her earlier was Yoo Sia?"

Yoo Sia, rumored to be the daughter of the chairman of SJ, one of the four great conglomerates.

She was famous for keeping people at a distance.

And that girl had a friend? Yujin could hardly believe it.

"This is getting bigger than I thought."

"Team Leader, you don't mean—you can't, right? Do you know what kind of company the Taesung Group is?!"

Scout Han Seonghun as a government Hunter, and build a connection with the Taesung Group's heiress.

Yujin was not the kind of person to let an opportunity like that slip away.

"We'll have to approach this slowly. Rush it and we lose both rabbits. First, Han Seonghun—"

Knock-knock.

Someone rapped on the car window.

Saerom rolled it down.

"Who—"

Click.

Saerom's heart dropped into her stomach.

Someone had shoved a gun against her head without so much as a word of warning.

"W-what are you doing?!"

A face that looked as though a master artisan had embroidered it, stitch by painstaking stitch. A woman whose every movement dripped with elegance.

"Who are you people?"

It was Yoo Sia.