Raising Shin Yu-hee (3)
Sometime ago, one of the heroes I'd met in this other world had brought it up.
"Getting good gear feels just like showing off your car, you know?"
Car boasting. The guys talking about it back then were all out in society, and I'd just sat there quietly listening.
"Si-woo, you into cars?"
"Sure, I've got some interest. But it's not really my field."
"Oh yeah? Take a seat. You drink?"
"You buying?"
"Hah, this guy's a riot. Yeah, the big bros got you. Sit your ass down."
They were good people. Unlike those old fucks who grumbled about how "guys who haven't bought a car yet know jack shit."
The pessimists would say shit like, "We're never getting back to Earth anyway, so why bother talking cars?" They'd argue it was way more practical to discuss horses, wyverns, or carriages you could actually get here.
"What cars you ridden? Or ones you wanna drive?"
"Only big ones from B Company."
"What? G-series? The 90?"
"The pro drivers would let me ride whenever they had time."
"No way. Si-woo, you some rich kid?"
"I'd tip 'em 1,500 won each time. Tap my phone on the card reader."
"That's the bus, dumbass. Hah, sit down. Back on Earth, we..."
But stories from Earth? For heroes, you could sum 'em up in one word.
Hope.
The belief we'd make it back someday.
"In your 20s, isn't K-series better?"
"Pfft, what a noob. Real men go foreign luxury!"
"Right. But you don't even know where you're job-hunting yet—driving that shit around gets you labeled weird. Si-woo, thinking civil service? Never drive anything over 40 mil won. Those bastards'll treat you like a goddamn slave."
"Anyway, hit 30s and upgrade to the 5-series."
"I'm team American."
"Hah, and this bro picks the boxiest carriage. Just like straight edges, huh?"
"Built tough."
Even if you slayed it up here, snagged a noble title, hit status levels unimaginable on Earth—Earth had shit you could never get in this world.
"Si-woo, remember this one thing. Planning to marry? SUV all the way. Kids later... sigh..."
"Ah, fuck. Here he goes again."
"Drink up. And survive tomorrow's fight. To the day we return to Earth!"
Even the ones pining for kids back home said the same.
"Soon as I get back to fucking Earth, first thing—new ride!"
No hard stats, but parents with kids mostly hoped to return. Even those decent types couldn't hold back the bragging. Cars, houses, kids—whatever. Vanity and the need for props, that's human nature. Hits even at rock bottom.
Kids flexing dad's ride, college kids lording private cars, suits dick-measuring models. That world.
"Si-woo, gear's exactly like cars." An older hero said it.
"People say 'as long as it rolls,' but ride quality? That's the real killer. Especially if you're not solo—social life amps it up."
Like cars signaling class on Earth, for heroes, visible status was gear—weapons, armor.
"Drive a nice car, get hate? Jealousy. Same with gear. That armor you're rocking? Looks like top-shelf expensive to others. They don't know the hell you went through for it."
I got it, disagreed some—but in places like Chekhov's Arena? Fuck yeah, resonated hard.
"Ignore the whiny bitches who couldn't hack hero life. Have-nots always grade each other harder. Call it cheap trash outside, pay peanuts? Here, it's foreign luxury value."
"Customer. Your orders. Dress yourself, or need help?"
"I'll handle it. Shin Yu-hee, over here."
"Y-yeah."
Right now, the gear draped on Shin Yu-hee proved it.
"Holy shit..."
Plain leather armor. Like the first bandit trash mob in a medieval fantasy game—decent chest piece, not rags. Even looked repaired from used stock, best of the beat-up pile.
'Stripped off some arena corpse, laundered.'
Darker armpit stains? Probably skewered through gaps, yanked off the dead guy. Still intact enough to sell—and now shield Shin Yu-hee.
"How's it? Arena-ready now?"
"...Least block a frontal stab once?"
"Exactly."
"Good enough. Buy time... then handle with this."
Shin Yu-hee gripped the goblin's sword, swung at air.
Whoosh!
Sharp cut. Guessed from sparring—her swing was fluid.
'Weak power, but technique's solid.'
Training dummy there? Not cleave clean, but sink blade two finger-widths easy. Perfect for her arena foes.
"No scams. Thought the blade might snap off the hilt."
"Credit's life for goblins. Especially the Tehalt-slayer. Can't sell junk if we want future biz."
"You—name?"
"Grimwald. Pleasure doing business. And..."
"And?"
"If shit hits the fan, please—no wrecking exchange goods."
The goblin merchant Grimwald pointed down a hall.
Thud, thud.
Group of humans shuffling, wall-hugging. All black or brown hair.
'Tch.'
Finally. Thought no night moves.
'Scouting?'
Five. Prisoner rags, women.
"Y-you! What the hell!"
"Eh...? S-sunbaes...?"
Shin Yu-hee, mid-air-swing, lowered blade in shock. Glanced me, then the five charging to a halt.
"How'd you get that armor...!"
"Thought you'd vanished—turns out you're geared up solo?"
"Spill. Where'd you snag it?"
Swords down or not, they pressed Shin Yu-hee hard.
"Sunbae, see, it's..."
"Call me unnie. Thought we bonded at drinks. Wrong?"
"........."
"Or what, drop off here means no unnies?"
Not arena rank—still college ties.
'Weird? Nah.'
Ten-year gap for me—past. For her and them? Four days ago, drinks.
Even first-years at camp.
"Butthurt for real. We searched after you ghosted."
"Yeah, thought you died or kidnapped. Worried sick!"
If it profits 'em, humans drag thin bonds like decade friendships.
'Blatant.'
All eyes on Shin Yu-hee's gear. Sword, armor especially. Tutorial starter set—but to prisoner rags with no tomorrow's meal vouchers? Lifesavers.
"...Sunbaes."
Shin Yu-hee clocked the greedy stares. No dummy.
"You're not the only ones who vanished without word."
"Huh?"
She pivoted topic, drew line subtle, stepped to my side.
"Sunbae. What now?"
"Huh?"
"Gotta hit arena now. You said time's gold. Vouchers melt every tick."
True. Room rental on ten vouchers ticking down.
Wasn't sweating it—but her face? Brazen.
"No time for chit-chat... your call. I'll follow."
Clear line from them, hands me reins.
Not her play, but arrows turned to me.
"Uh..."
"Hey, wait—"
"Sorry, no plans to hang with you bitches."
I slipped hand behind Shin Yu-hee, tapped her back—signal.
"Shin Yu-hee and me? Killed by those cunts there."
I spoke truth. She lied.
Pre-signal helped?
"...Sunbaes."
Shin Yu-hee dropped voice low, raised sword slight.
"Sorry, but no chats helping that bitch."
Stone-cold lie, eyes unblinking—fierce enough to cleave the five.
"C'mon, sunbae. Arena."
"Shin Yu-hee."
I whispered in her ear, her-only.
"Not curious 'bout their sitch?"
"Honestly."
She whispered back.
"Don't give a fuck."
"Oh yeah?"
"Eyes say it. You bought this shit."
"Fair. But... play along for now?"
She tilted head quick—but I stepped back, gripped her shoulders both hands.
"Whoa, chill. Least they didn't kill us. Right?"
"Sunbae, but..."
"No need extra enemies. Allies with our foes don't make 'em foes. Who knows? Useful later."
Still.
"Big picture."
Death here? Not full out.
And.
"Want info? One voucher each."
They're info clients.
"No freebies."
Maybe proxies later.