Chocolate Latte, Second Life

When I was around ten years old, my parents ran away. All they left behind was a drafty, cramped shithole of a house. And their final shred of parental conscience: 950,000 won in savings. Stuck taking care of my sister who had just turned twenty and my eight-year-old little sister, I remember thinking, Ah, fuck. How the hell are we supposed to live now? Right then, a semi-transparent window popped up out of nowhere.

It had already been ten years since my second life began. A tutorial now? What kind of bullshit was this? I rubbed my eyes, wondering if my brain had finally snapped, but more text kept scrolling down.

Rewards? What rewards? The next hologram that appeared contained a familiar name.

Lee Jae-hee was my older sister’s name, and Woo Min-ki was the guy she was talking to at the time. For a hallucination caused by a broken brain, it was pretty interesting. The system followed up with an explanation.

I didn’t bother reading the rest about Luck Points or whatever. My sister’s almost-boyfriend was standing right next to me.

“Min-ki hyung.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna date my sister?”

He was holding the steering wheel at the time, so we nearly died together, but the short version is we survived. And the semi-transparent message wasn’t a hallucination. On the day my sister and that guy started dating—kissing from day one—I used the points to pay four months of overdue electricity bills, then bought kimchi and samgyeopsal. We threw a little party at home. Explaining where the money came from was a pain, but I somehow convinced them.

After that, I kept living as the Cupid of this world. Once I went back to school, quests started popping up everywhere. Whether the pairs looked like they’d work or not, I matched them all. By the time I entered middle school, everyone around me called me a crazy matchmaking freak… but it didn’t matter. We had to survive somehow, right?

By my third year of middle school, it had basically become a real business. I opened the Lee Jae-ha Romance Counseling Center and made sure potential couples came looking for me on their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own. By graduation I was known as the god of romance—a certified expert at forming couples. Naturally, our family situation improved too. We had some savings, and I even opened a shop for my sister and brother-in-law (yeah, the same guy from back then).

But I wasn’t about to stop there. I planned to keep running the business through high school. The more money you have, the more you seem to need. Once we started living comfortably, I began worrying about the future. I had to save for my little sister’s college tuition, pay for her academies, renovate my sister’s store, buy a used car, and the list went on. Points were always necessary.

Another thing I learned from living as a Cupid: this world seemed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to follow some kind of predetermined scenario. Matching couples who looked like main characters from a story gave especially juicy points. The quest messages even appeared differently.

Like that. But there were exceptions to the rules. Occasionally there were people who never triggered a quest no matter what. At first I called them LGBT, but later I started calling them Singularities. Why the change in terminology? Because a same-sex couple quest had popped up. In a world where lily quests and love-triangle quests existed, the presence of Singularities felt genuinely strange.

‘The girl standing in front of me right now is one of them.’

I stared at the girl one meter away. The female student setting her basket items down on the counter one by one. She had the kind of looks that made her seem like the heroine of a Japanese rom-com novel, sculpted by the gods themselves. In the six years since my tutorial, she was the ultimate Singularity—her name had never once appeared in a quest.

Yoon Byul.

Looking at the face that faithfully lived up to her nickname in every single breath, I said, “That’ll be 12,700 won. A bag costs 100 won—would you like one?”

The answer that came back was, “Discount please. Only got ten thousand.”

My response was already decided. “Fuck off.”

“If I fuck, do I get the discount?”

“You’ve got nothing to fuck with.”

“Hmm.”

Yoon Byul pulled the Chupa Chups she’d been sucking on out of her mouth and offered it to me. “Yoon Byul’s indirect kiss. Only 2,700 won.”

Wasn’t that less of an indirect kiss and more like an indirect deep kiss? “Ah, I’m not buying it.”

“Tsk.”

She clicked her tongue and stuck the Chupa Chups back in her mouth. “No discount, huh. Being ball-buddies is useless.”

She pulled out her card and stuck it into the reader.

“You don’t even have balls, you idiot.”

“If I did, would you give me a discount?”

“No, I’d have beaten the shit out of you ages ago and hung you outside. Be grateful your parents gave birth to you as a girl.”

“Oh. Mom, Dad, thank you thank you.”

That half-assed gratitude couldn’t repay even a fingernail’s worth of the overwhelming grace you’ve received.

“But I bet I would’ve been pretty even if I was born a boy.”

It was nonsense, but the kind of nonsense I could somehow agree with. Yoon Byul rummaged in her pocket and pulled something out—a crumpled plastic bag. She started stuffing her newly purchased items into it. Her completely carefree attitude left me speechless.

She wasn’t originally like this. She might pay the price for her nickname, but she couldn’t live up to her face. After she finished packing everything, she still didn’t leave. Instead she asked, “So, no work at the counseling center these days?”

“Ma’am, your transaction is finished, so please go. The next customer is waiting.”

“What next customer? There’s no one else here.”

She was right. There wasn’t. It was six-thirty on a Saturday morning.

Then why the hell are you showing up at the crack of dawn to bother me?

“So I’m asking if there’s no work at the counseling center.”

Yoon Byul kept pressing. I answered reluctantly. “There isn’t, which is why I’m working part-time here. It’s vacation.”

That’s right. It was currently summer vacation of my first year in high school. Since I couldn’t go to school, there weren’t many coupling requests either. I was spending the break as a convenience store clerk—and of all places, right in front of the apartment complex where Yoon Byul lived.

Then she dropped this question. “You must have gotten some requests before vacation started.”

Pretty sharp. I did have some. By now, with vacation almost over, I’d finished most of them, but… “Well, there is one left.”

Yoon Byul’s eyes sparkled. “Oh! I wanna come watch.”

“Absolutely not. Get lost. Go home.”

“Aww, why?”

Why, you idiot? Because the horny bastards I have to set up lose their damn minds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the second they see you. She seemed to know that too, because she said, “I’ll wear a hat and mask.”

“Still no.”

Your level can’t be hidden by stuff like that. Your beauty slips right through those items—your eyes, your neck, everything below it. “This time it’s really fine. I bought this super ugly tracksuit last time. I can wear that. Oh, and I have this too.”

She pulled out a pair of stupid-looking green alien sunglasses and put them on. “Cute, right?”

It was honestly funny because even with those on, she still looked cute. “Why do you want to watch so badly that you’d go that far with the outfit?”

“In my entire life I haven’t found anything as fun as watching Jae-ha…”

I wanted to retort about how boring her life must be, but… well, there’s a reason the term “matchmaking freak” exists. Honestly, the job was pretty fun. I couldn’t say I didn’t understand the urge to watch.

Then Yoon Byul rummaged in her hoodie pocket again and pulled something else out. What the hell, was she Doraemon? She set what looked like a lipstick tube on the counter. “This. It’s super hot right now.”

“What’s a tint?”

“Like a light lipstick. Last time Jae-yeon said she wanted one.”

She puckered her lips, showing off her pretty, glossy light-pink mouth. By the way, Jae-yeon is my little sister. “Pretty, right? It’s the exact same shade I’m wearing now.”

It really was pretty. I ended up picking the tint up. “…Did Jae-yeon really say she wanted this?”

“Yep, yep.” Yoon Byul nodded enthusiastically.

“…”

I thought about it, but the hesitation didn’t last long. “Stay really, really far away and just watch. If any guy notices you, I’m not kidding—I’ll kill you.”

“Yay~”

Yoon Byul danced with joy. Her excited little wiggle was incredibly awkward, like a wriggling planarian. Her appearance was perfect, but she was secretly a total klutz. Bad at sports, not great at studying. This idiot…

“Anyway, I’ll text you when my shift ends, so go home now.”

But the reply was unexpected. “Nah, I’ll just wait outside until you finish.”

“How do you know when I finish?”

“I know. You get off at two-thirty, right?”

What? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠How did she know that? “How did you know?”

“Just… by watching.”

She pulled something out of the bag she’d just bought—the coffee. “See you later~”

“Hey, what is this?”

“A gift~”

And with that, she left. I stared blankly at the coffee sitting on the counter. It was a chocolate latte that wasn’t even on the 1+1 event anymore—2,800 won each. My favorite flavor.

How the hell did she know?