Harin's Gentle Smile
The first time I laid eyes on Lee Harin was by pure chance last November, when she wandered into this convenience store. I couldn't believe that a girl straight out of an Insta feed—pure, delicate, and innocent—was working the day shift here. Of course, the freeloaders crashing at my house are just as stunning looks-wise, but Harin had this special charm they lacked. For starters, she flashed a kind, gentle smile even at a total loser like me.
For two years, I'd been treated like dirt by those delinquent girls at home, barely human in their eyes. So her warm smile felt like the descent of my ideal type. No swearing, just a quiet, diligent college girl. Her appeal was worlds apart from my houseguests, and I fell head over heels right then and there.
"Tossing and turning in your sleep again? We've still got an hour till shift change."
Harin greeted me with wide eyes. I always showed up an hour early. Plenty of reasons. Our store's dawn delivery hits right around shift change, so I could help out and maybe impress her a bit?
Same old pushover routine.
Word was, some workers ditch their vests and bolt the second relief arrives.
But this good girl always clocked her full shift before handing over.
Thanks to that, if I hustled a little, I could snag these precious moments alone with her.
"Yeah, haven't been sleeping well lately. Days and nights all flipped around, probably."
"I bet. Night shifts are brutal, right? They say it really wears on your body."
She beamed and stepped aside at the counter.
We checked the register together, chatting idly.
"Heading to the MT soon. You've been to one, right, sunbae?"
Already that time, huh.
For the record, she calls me sunbae because she started at the same university as me this year.
Different majors, and I've got nothing left to look forward to in college—I've even submitted leave paperwork to drop out.
Even after I told her that, she insisted on it, saying it'd be nice to have a familiar face.
"Uh, yeah. I went once."
No one to hang with, so I passed out alone after drinking. Not a great memory.
"Hehe, hanging with friends all night, chatting and boozing. Sounds fun."
Unlike me, she'd already made friends just a short time in.
Makes sense, with her looks.
"What? Never been anywhere fun?"
"Nope, my parents were strict. No way before college, they said."
"Then you've got something to look forward to. It's more fun than you'd think."
"Yeah! I'm already excited."
I played the know-it-all senior who'd been through it all.
Truth is, I had no clue, but you wanna front a bit in front of someone you like.
Just hearing her bubbly, excited chatter melted away the exhaustion from dealing with the girls at home.
Time flew in that happy vibe, and shift change rolled around.
We'd basically worked together already—no handover needed.
Harin slung on her bag and gave a light wave.
"See ya, sunbae! Fight through the night!"
"Yeah, you too—get home safe. See you tomorrow."
I stared blankly at her retreating back, a content smile tugging at my lips.
Her parting image lingered: those little fists clenched in a fighting pose. Adorable.
"Human vitamin" was made for her.
My freeloaders at home could learn a thing or two.
The bliss didn't last. Thinking of them stirred guilt in my chest.
Am I even worthy of these feelings for pure Harin?
Just hours ago, I'd handed my dick over to Jo Ayoung, blown my load on her face, lost in pleasure.
Even if it wasn't my idea, I'd enjoyed it—no excuses.
A guy who allows a handjob chasing another girl? That's slutty.
I'd always wondered: if a woman's virginity matters, doesn't a man's pure love count the same?
Unless you're stepping up as an alpha male owning a harem, you shouldn't.
I prefer pure love.
"I wanna be an alpha male."
Doesn't mean I hate harems, though.
That's the dream. Unattainable fantasy.
Best if you can handle it.
Honestly, I don't wanna give up Jo Ayoung either.
We click surprisingly well. And those huge tits.
Ding-a-ling.
Lost in my idiot daydreams, the door chimed—a customer.
"Welcome."
"Fuck off."
A middle-aged guy reeking of booze stumbled in, talking shit from the entrance.
Night shifts at the conbini suck ass.
"Hey, clerk, what's this shit?"
"Sir, looking for something?"
"Yeah, when did cigs get this small? Fucking government bastards taxing us to death already."
He jabbed at a gum pack on the rack, fuming.
Drunk asshole losing it again.
"Sir, that's not a cigarette—it's gum."
"You calling it gum to my face?"
"No, sir. Not to you."
"You saying I can't even afford gum? Know what I do?"
Bullshit, probably just booze-hounding.
This trash came multiple times a week, hammered at dawn, picking fights—peak nuisance.
I dialed the cops on autopilot.
"Yeah, got a rowdy customer here."
"Clerk, what the fuck you doing? Calling the pigs?"
"Yes, please respond quick. Yeah, the usual guy."
"This punk's ignoring me."
He slammed the counter, leaning in aggressively.
Won't do shit anyway. No balls for that.
Not my first rodeo.
At least no puking today—small mercy.
"You little shit, I'm, uh? Buddies with your boss."
"Yeah, right. Asked last time—says she doesn't know you."
"This fucker—me and your boss? Hit the baths together last week!"
"She's got a man. You go in the women's side?"
At least make your lies halfway believable.
Mid-spat with the guy, cops showed, hauled him off.
Even dragged away, he yapped about drinking with the chief.
"Making money's tough."
Really, if not for Harin, I'd never stick with this job.
***
Morning sun rising.
Another night shift down safe.
Cleaning the dirty tables, the cheerful bell rang—the manager walked in.
A pencil dress hugging her curves. The classic "mature office look" on a woman radiating ripe allure.
"Eun-seong, anything happen overnight?"
"Just the usual asshole—called the cops. Otherwise quiet."
"That's not 'quiet'."
I spun the dawn drama lightly for her worried gaze, finished handover.
"Good work. Grab some snacks on your way out. White Day vibe—stocked up fancy chocolates and packs, but leftovers get tossed."
She nodded at the flashy shelf display.
White Day with chocolates? Probably no deep thought. That's her charm.
I scratched my head, smiling bitterly.
"Nah, no girlfriend to give 'em to. Just packing on more pounds eating alone."
Normally I'd scarf 'em, but lately the freeloaders' "pig" jabs hit harder.
Plus, to stand tall as a man before Harin, time to shape up.
"Aw, a sweet, hardworking guy like you? Can't imagine why no girlfriend."
"This face, that's why. Can't help it."
Self-deprecating reply to her empty-ish praise.
She stepped close, lifted my forehead bangs, pinched my cheek.
"Really? Looks pretty decent to me. Lose a bit of weight, you'd be a solid handsome type."
Sudden touch—heart pounding.
Mature woman's scent hitting me.
Am I that starved? Already palpitations multiple times today. Virginity my ass.
I waved her off, pulling away.
"N-no way. Me, handsome?"
"Hmm, not model-level, but solid. Whoever you're into, manage a bit—she'll notice. Auntie's got an eye for this."
Her sly smile shocked me.
Never said I liked anyone.
Just mentioned weight and looks, and she clocked it?
Veteran instincts.
"Auntie? Who'd call you that? You're still prime beauty."
"Aw, thanks. But really."
I bowed to her shoulder pat, eager to bolt—then my pocket buzzed.
Call this early?
Should greet first, but phone's dead silent usually—curiosity won.
Jo Ayoung. And what she sent: a sultry selfie, lounging in lingerie.
"Gah!"
So flustered, phone slipped from my grip.
It bounced right to the manager's feet. She picked it up, naturally.
"Careful, screen'll crack... Oh my?"
Handing it back, her eyes caught the lit screen.
Ayoung's exposed pic staring back.
Manager blinked, staring blankly for a sec.
Jo Ayoung, you crazy bitch! Why send this now?!
What does the boss think of me now?
Mid-cursing Ayoung inwardly, manager cleared her throat, eyeing me oddly.
"Ahem, didn't you say no girlfriend?"
"N-no, it's... not that. Just a mischievous housemate."
"Oh, sister?"
Fair guess for "housemate."
Though sisters don't send lingerie pics.
"Uh, kinda... similar."
"Huh? That reluctant dynamic? I'm an only child, so I wouldn't know."
Why lingerie in that case...?
Nah, she's sharp enough to run a conbini young, but weirdly oblivious sometimes.
Let it slide.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Got it."
Seemed suspicious, but she dropped it.
Being considerate. Grateful.
"Then share with your 'sis'."
Ended up with chocolates and snacks anyway.
Thanked her—no grilling or judging the pic—and bolted like a thief.
Outside, bewilderment mixed with rage at Ayoung.
Truth? Seeing her pic instantly recalled that sticky dawn handjob—pants tightening.
Anything but that getting caught.
All Jo Ayoung's fault.
I hurried home, plotting how to punish that seductive housemate.
"But what to say..."
No clue on the method, though.