Chapter 69: Thank You!
A new customer walked in, and I set about preparing their drink. Yet even while measuring espresso and steaming milk, my mind kept drifting back to the alert I had just seen on my banking app.
The Sinnam Halmang Foundation. Deducted: 450,000 won. Transfer balance: 1,500,000 won. Sinnam Halmang Foundation… Sinnam Halmang? Sin-nam Hal-mang… Mang-hal Nam-sin?
The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning: the name was deliberate wordplay. Read backwards, Sinnam Halmang became Damn Male God.
That petty, damn Male God.
Memories of the afterlife naturally flooded my thoughts. The radiant Goddess had sought to bestow every conceivable blessing upon me, while her counterpart, the Male God, had nitpicked and slapped harsh constraints on every single gift. Back then, I had silently cursed the stubborn deity for heaping spite on me right until the very end.
Did he really hold a grudge over an internal thought?
I caught myself grumbling at his pettiness and quickly shook the thought away. The Male God had almost certainly plucked those stray thoughts straight from my mind. While I had no idea who had physically registered the foundation in this world, the deity’s divine influence was unmistakably behind the moniker. There was no point in stirring up trouble, so I decided to accept it with quiet grace. After all, the Male God had warned me in advance that he would strip away one precious thing. In a sense, this mandatory tithe masquerading as charitable donations was simply the tax on my extraordinary physique and newfound vitality.
Cracking the mystery behind the name changed nothing practical anyway. The Goddess was undeniably pampering me with divine favoritism, expending vast amounts of karma in the process. I had already resolved to shoulder whatever part of that burden I could. Though I didn’t fully understand the metaphysical mechanics, my donations evidently eased whatever cosmic weight she was bearing on my behalf.
"Jeongseo… Jeongseo?"
"Yes, Boss?"
"What’s got you daydreaming so hard? It’s not like you to zone out on the clock."
The Boss lightly nudged my shoulder, snapping me back to the café counter just as I connected the significance of the 1.5 million won figure.
"Oh, my sister just wired me my share of the streaming donations," I explained smoothly.
"Really? That’s great! I tuned in a few times myself, and you were pulling in quite a bit of support."
"Yeah. It ended up being much larger than I expected."
The Boss offered a warm smile, but then tilted her head with an unexpected question. "So, how much did they take?"
"Excuse me?"
"Ah, sorry. That came out blunter than I intended."
For a split second, I wondered if she somehow knew about the Foundation’s supernatural cut, but she quickly clarified her thought.
"Withholding taxes and platform fees can take a massive bite out of streaming payouts, you know. I figured a hefty chunk disappeared before it ever reached you."
"Oh, Noona handled all the taxes and platform fees on her end."
"Huh? Really? So she basically passed it to you as an allowance? Hmm… if the sums keep growing, that might turn into a real headache down the road." Rather than divine debts, she was talking about mundane tax law. Knowing the donations rolling in weren’t pocket change, she offered some practical adult advice. "It’s fine as a one-off, but if you keep doing it like this, Yeoeun could end up with a massive tax liability."
"Understood. I’ll make sure to discuss it with her."
"Good. Just don't tell her it came from me. I wouldn't want to sound like I’m sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."
"Not at all. You’re just looking out for us."
Chatting with the Boss helped the remaining pieces fall neatly into place. The Foundation’s supernatural tithes had zero correlation with municipal tax codes or real-world accounting. While I certainly would have preferred them taxing my net income rather than the gross, that wasn't how divine karma operated.
The lump sum Yeoeun had transferred wasn’t recognized as my personal income; in the eyes of the law—and the Boss—it was simply spending money from family. Furthermore, the mandatory donation taken from my café paycheck had been calculated against my gross wages before social insurance and income taxes were deducted.
Then why did the Foundation snatch exactly 450,000 won this time?
The baseline figure of 1,500,000 won had sounded familiar for a reason: last week’s enhancement mission. A viewer had commissioned two consecutive card upgrades on my football stream, paying an exact total of 1,500,000 won in bounty missions. Exactly thirty percent of that was 450,000 won.
It only siphons money earned through my direct labor.
It was a passing hypothesis, but the math aligned flawlessly. Successful in-game enhancement bounties counted as compensation for performed labor. In contrast, spontaneous viewer superchats and tips were unprompted gifts given before or without specific tasks. When Mother had handed me three million won as pocket money, the Foundation hadn't touched a single won. The 300,000-won bonus the Boss gave me earlier had likewise slipped through untouched.
If I spent the rest of my life living entirely off allowances, I’d never lose a single coin to that foundation.
A neat loophole materialized in my head. In this world, living entirely off generous female benefactors wouldn't even be difficult. Not that I ever intended to degenerate into an idle kept man, of course.
"Time to pack up for the day," the Boss remarked, glancing toward the entrance. "When is your escort arriving?"
"She said she’d be here right around closing."
Chime.
"Ah, speak of the devil."
Right on cue, the café door swung wide. A towering figure stepped through the threshold, making the entire doorway appear comical in comparison.
"Uh… Jeongseo?" the Boss blinked, startled. "Four of them?"
"No, only the tallest one is supposed to be here…"
Trailing behind Moon Eunjung was an energetic procession of familiar faces.
"Jeongseo-ya! We're here!"
"Good afternoon, noonas."
I offered them a bright, welcoming bow. They were my impromptu bodyguards—or rather, one was my contracted protector, and the other three had clearly tagged along just to hang out.
The café wasn't far from my apartment. What was normally a quiet, solitary stroll had turned into a rowdy, boisterous parade of five. Alongside Eunjung-noona walked the rest of the university manga club—the very same squad that had chased off that pack of delinquents in the alley.
"Thank you for coming all the way out here," I said with a warm smile once we got moving.
"Don't mention it. I'm getting paid for it anyway," Eunjung-noona muttered, averting her eyes as she scratched the nape of her neck in awkward embarrassment.
"We just tagged along 'cause we were bored!"
"Yeah! We're hitting the manga café right after we drop you off safe and sound!"
"Have you ever been to a proper comic cave, Jeongseo?"
Unlike Eunjung, the other three seniors possessed boundless, uninhibited energy. They showed none of the nervous hesitation women usually displayed around me, treating me less like an eligible bachelor and more like an adorable little mascot.
"Didn't Jeongseo start out with that ghost-slaying shonen series?"
"He did, but the classics are mandatory! If you go to a real comic lounge, you've gotta start with Narita, graduate to Two Piece, or dive into the vintage eighties stuff—"
"Totally! But keeping up with the modern seasonal trends matters too! Like Magical Reincarnation or whatever's blowing up on streaming right now—"
There wasn't a single opening for me to speak. These women lived and breathed comics. Ever since I offhandedly mentioned in our group chat that I enjoyed watching anime, the chatroom had devolved into daily analytical symposia. They didn't consume pop culture for casual amusement; they dissected it like tenured scholars. Still, their fond affection toward me was undeniable—even if their brand of attention differed wildly from other women's.
"Would you like to grab some ice cream on the way?" I offered during a brief lull.
"Ooh, yes! Eunjung's treating, right?"
"Why the hell would I pay for everyone? We're splitting it!"
"Come on, you're on the company payroll now!"
The 'company boss' they referenced was my mother. Technically, Eunjung-noona was in Mother's employ, even if their agreement lacked a formal paper contract.
"I'll treat everyone," I chimed in gently. "You all took time out of your busy schedules to come walk with me…"
"What? No way! How could we let our cute little dongsaeng pay? Eunjung's covering it today, so put your wallet away."
"Hey! Don't play the generous benefactor with my wallet!"
"Relax, we're not that busy anyway~ We skipped one afternoon lecture, but it's totally fine."
They were an absolute whirlwind of noise, but their bright, unabashed energy was surprisingly endearing.
Following the harrowing incident with Park Hyeji the previous week, Mother had firmly announced her intention to hire professional private security for me. I had fiercely opposed the idea. While I had several reasons, chief among them was protecting my personal privacy and freedom of movement.
"Jeongseo, I've got it today," Eunjung-noona insisted as we walked into a nearby fast-food joint.
"No, the others came just for me. I should at least buy the ice cream—"
"Your mother is paying me more than enough. Just let me handle it."
"She's right! Let's go grab a booth, Jeongseo!"
"Moon! Get me an Oreo McFlurry!"
Leaving Eunjung-noona standing before the automated ordering kiosk, we headed over to a table. Her towering silhouette made the tall touchscreen terminal look like a miniature child's toy.
Did Mother agree solely because of that sheer size?
Caught between Mother’s insistence on hiring muscle and my absolute refusal to be shadowed by stranger bodyguards, Eunjung-noona had emerged as the ideal compromise. I had mentioned her heroic intervention to Mother, who immediately requested an in-person meeting. Eunjung-noona had readily agreed when I explained the situation, coming over to the apartment over the weekend for an informal interview.
At first, Mother had been deeply suspicious, terrified that even a student bodyguard might harbor predatory designs on her delicate son. I had countered by asking whether a corporate mercenary firm would guarantee absolute moral integrity. In human affairs, guarantees and absolutes never existed.
Still, Mother warmed up to her remarkably fast after talking face-to-face…
Whatever passed between the two during their private chat, Mother had walked away satisfied. Thus, Eunjung-noona had been retained for a high hourly rate to guard me exclusively during my brief daily commutes between home and the café. For a part-timer, it was an astonishingly luxurious arrangement.
"Hey, Jeongseo," Kyung-ah-noona asked, leaning forward across the table. "How did Eunjung end up landing a bodyguard gig for you out of nowhere?"
"Ah, I had a bit of a stalker problem recently."
"Oh gosh. For real?"
The other club members had no idea about the kidnapping attempt; Eunjung-noona was the only one privy to the full details of the Park Hyeji ordeal.
"Mother was worried sick," I explained with a self-deprecating smile. "She's not around to follow me anymore, though, so you don't need to be on edge."
Having instinctively perked up like meerkats scanning the horizon for predators, the three seniors sheepishly slumped back into their seats, eyes wide with shock.
"So stalkers really exist…"
"I've never seen one in real life. If that creep ever shows her face again, make sure you call us."
Kyung-ah-noona adjusted the frame of her glasses, her face brimming with curious fascination. In this world’s inverted aesthetic standards, her slender frame and modest bust made her the undisputed classic beauty of the group.
"By the way, Jeongseo, did you ever finish that series?" she asked, leaning closer.
"Hm? Ah… the one I was watching?"
"Yeah. What season are you on? There's an incredible spinoff right after that arc! Tell you what, why don't you come to the manga cafe with us today? Or I could lend you my personal collector's edition… actually, never mind. Strike that. Forget I said anything."
Kyung-ah-noona waved her hands defensively, jokingly making it clear that no matter how pretty my eyes were, her prized physical manga volumes remained strictly off-limits. I hadn't even asked to borrow them, but the playful sting of being 'rejected' felt strangely refreshing.
"Stop corrupting him with weird otaku talk already," Eunjung-noona commanded as she marched over carrying a loaded tray.
"What did we say? We were just getting to the crucial analysis! In The Dunk, the center's emotional arc—"
"Jeongseo, just tune them out," Eunjung sighed, sliding an ice cream cup toward me. "They're a handful, aren't they?"
The conversation jumped across three entirely different story arcs before Eunjung-noona even managed to sit down. I spent most of the time simply nodding and listening.
"So what's the plan for Seoco?"
"Just the three of us, I guess. Eunjung has work."
"Jeongseo, do you want to… actually, no, that might be too intense."
I barely comprehended half the vocabulary being tossed back and forth across the table. We were undeniably speaking the same Korean language, yet their subculture jargon flew entirely over my head. And little did I realize that this incomprehensible chatter was only the opening overture to my daily routine.