Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Praise Special: Makes Even Whales Dance
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Current time.
Monday, 9:30 AM.
Hearty breakfast done!
Armed with the hoodie and jeans my little sister bought me, preparations complete!
"Eup, eupoo!"
"Why do you keep opening your mouth?"
The harsh makeup torture is over!
The long-awaited time to head to my part-time job has arrived.
Pushing through the busy crowd of office workers hurrying along, I arrived at a large bustling street in the city center.
There, I familiarly found a building and stepped inside.
The place I worked had over 300 seats—a massive PC bang—and fitting its enormous scale, it was packed with customers even this early in the morning.
Our future pro gamers, clocking in even faster than office workers.
Seeing them filled me with a hearty satisfaction, like I'd just slurped down a steaming bowl of beef soup.
That's why our country gets called a gaming superpower.
Their passion for games is undoubtedly number one in the world.
Proud of you, Korea. Solid as a rock, our nation!
Most customers looked like students on break or done with finals.
Or maybe unemployed.
At the counter, part-timers were rushing around busily. Spotting the manager noona emerging to restock the shelves, I hurried over and greeted her.
"Hello! Substitute part-timer reporting for duty!"
She looked flustered by my salute, stiff with that fresh-out-of-the-military edge, just a month post-discharge.
"Ah, the one replacing Jeong-ho? What's your name?"
Han Jeong-ho.
The answer welled up in my throat, but I barely swallowed it back down.
"...Han Hyo-jeong, ma'am."
I hypnotized myself.
From now on, I'm Han Hyo-jeong.
PC bang part-time is my first time. You're all strangers to me too.
We've never met before.
But damn.
Why does it feel so familiar?
Huh? Why is my body automatically checking the order slip and boiling ramen the second I arrive?
Seat 84? In this huge PC bang, why are my feet marching straight to that one specific spot without hesitation?
"Customer, your ramen's here."
Why am I spitting out lines like that so naturally?
After serving and heading back to the counter, I spotted one part-timer struggling with the order machine.
I glanced at it and spoke up.
"Looks like the receipt's jammed."
"Oh, you're right?"
You bastard.
Don't fix it so casually like it's nothing new.
Get out of my body right now, Han Jeong-ho!!
No.
Get out of my body right now, Han Hyo-jeong!!
And give back my sharp wits while you're at it!!
"Huff... huff..."
The suffocating tug-of-war between Han Jeong-ho and Han Hyo-jeong for control of my body dragged on all the way until lunchtime.
My name: Han Jeong-ho. Age: 24.
Using the name Han Hyo-jeong for unavoidable reasons right now, but back in the day, I was a pretty well-known figure in the part-time job scene.
Having tried every odd job under the sun since I was a kid, they called me the specialist of part-times, the MacGyver of the gig economy. I dare say, a PC bang job ranks as "easy mode."
At least until now.
Like any part-time gig, places swarming with customers breed jerks in proportion.
PC bang jerks came in all varieties.
Drunks staggering in after all-night benders, promptly puking up bar snacks all over the floor (mostly what they'd scarfed down earlier)—the "What'd I even eat?" type.
The ones brazenly blasting NSFW videos in public, cranking the volume to stadium levels on top of that—the "Ah, good stuff's meant to be shared" type.
The keyboard-bashers desperately announcing their good news to the world—the "Sound the trumpets!" type.
And their perfect harmony partner, the interjection master—the "Why is it dying?!" type.
Sister variants included gourmet weirdos dumping raw eggs into blue grape ade or topping americanos with green chilies...
But most were cute at that level.
Run-of-the-mill villains you could brush off with a chuckle.
The real problem was the abnormal cases cropping up now.
Strange phenomena not in my data logs kept popping up at the PC bang.
"Hey! Don't we know each other from somewhere?"
What? Who the hell are you?
A random guy customer grabs me out of nowhere and hits me with that.
"No, seriously, your face rings a bell! Which elementary school did you go to?"
So disarmingly natural it almost makes you wonder if you do know him.
But it's only been two days since I turned into this.
A face even I'm not used to yet, and it's familiar to others? That's straight-up eerie.
'Eerie... so eerie...'
The anomalies didn't stop there.
Someone orders two drinks, and then...
"Have one yourself."
What?!
"Sorry if this is forward on a first meeting. Got a boyfriend?"
Even guys dumping super rude questions on total strangers.
The street flirts from before were small potatoes.
Every single food run turned into a gauntlet of handshake ambushes from every direction, leaving me seriously flustered.
S-signs... This is awkward...!
"Hyo-jeong, take it easy."
"Ah, yes."
Part-timer A, who was always deadpan about everything.
Today, her face brimmed with unusual energy.
"If you're beat, just rest up. Oh, customers are thinning out—want to man the counter? We can handle the cooking between us."
And Part-timer B, perpetually grumpy and snapping at every little thing.
Names were something like Choi Myung-jin and Heo Jun-tae, I think.
Especially that Heo Jun-tae prick—senior by just a month and lording it like he'd been there forever.
His face now sported a gentle smile I'd never seen before.
A hulking frame that could go toe-to-toe with a bear at 50/50 odds, wearing the world's meekest expression.
"Ugh."
That uncanny vibe triggered an involuntary retch.
In turn, spooning extra worry onto Heo Jun-tae's kind smile.
"Hyo-jeong, you good? Wanna step out for some air?"
Not good.
Getting worse because of you guys. Uwuuk!
Real-time dot damage stacking up.
Are these really the same part-timers I knew?
Were those burly muscles actually kindness pouches, not intimidation tools?
Dishing out handfuls like Hobumman whenever someone's craving niceness.
What monstrous kindness muscles.
As my face drained of color, their eyes overflowed with concern.
First time in my life getting looks like that from dudes.
No.
Wait.
Come to think of it, maybe once.
Back when I prank-kicked a buddy hard in the groin.
Exactly that expression.
The difference? Back then, it was remorse for wrecking a man's precious manhood. Now, it's pure goodwill.
And...
Their stares zeroing in sternly on my chest and legs.
Didn't notice it as a guy, but as a girl? Crystal clear.
While talking, sneaky glance away. Pretend to look elsewhere, sneaky glance back.
Meant to seem natural, but blatantly obvious.
Not exactly unpleasant... more like a complex, subtle cocktail of feelings.
No denying it—my current look slots squarely into the "beauty" category.
And not just that. Armed to the teeth with makeup channeling a 300K-view beauty YouTuber's essence.
So yeah, fully aware of this face's ripple effects.
In other words, I could kinda get where these pitiful mortals' side-eyeing was coming from.
Yeah.
I get it.
But understanding and accepting? Totally different beasts.
My rotten expression had them fidgeting anxiously.
Finally, I let out a small sigh and waved it off like no big deal.
"I'm fine. Just a quick dizzy spell."
"Ah, anemia, huh."
"Wanna lie down a bit? We'll cover the counter."
Sweet.
Too sweet—my limbs were shriveling up like desiccated honey butter squid.
"No way, then who's cooking?"
"Myung-jin can."
"Yeah, I'll handle it."
These guys who'd normally dump every chore on the maknae "cuz you're the baby" were today lining up to take the thorny jobs.
At that sight, a dark desire poked its head up from a corner of my heart.
'Huh? Jackpot?'
A gentleman's revenge is never too late, even after ten years.
Might as well milk these voluntary slaves for all they're worth, huh?
Of course, I wasn't ruthless enough for that.
A PC bang isn't just about slinging computers.
You gotta cook, serve, manage inventory.
Spotting the danmuji running low, I headed to the storage room, grabbed a pack, and neatly packed the side dish containers.
Restocked other ingredients on the verge of depletion too, proving my paycheck's worth.
"Ooh."
"You done PC bang work before? You're way too smooth."
Praise rained down from the side.
Praise special. Makes even whales dance.
"Honey churros up!"
"Got it!"
Snatched the finished churros and dashed to deliver.
"Sorry, cash after all."
"Pardon?"
The customer eyes me, sets down his card, and fishes out a 10,000-won bill instead.
No choice—back to the counter for change, hand it over, return.
"What, orders piled up already?"
"Yeah, busier than usual today."
Huge order barrage hits right away—dive into the backlog cooking.
"12,300 won, sir."
Serve the finished dish again.
"This goes here, right?"
"Y-yes!"
Incidentally collect dirty dishes to the sink.
"Whoa, what a pile."
And right then, as I reached for the rubber gloves to tackle the mountain of dishes...
I froze.
A thought hit me.
What the...
Why does it feel like I'm the only one busting my ass?
I did the cooking. I cleared the dishes.
Now even heading for dish duty.
This... Zhuge Liang's trap?
Lure me with praise to cloud my judgment, then work me to the bone—a masterstroke?
I turned my head, and wouldn't you know, our eyes met—they'd been watching me.
Aren't you gonna work?
My glare carried that message loud and clear. They slyly averted their eyes.
Like privates caught dozing on sentry duty by the sergeant—total rookies.
I was speechless at the sight.
And that's when it hit me, belatedly.
Ah.
I was the one who'd fallen for it.