The Second S-Class Emerges
Eventually, that silhouette was taken care of by Baek Sihyun and Lee Dojin.
It was ambiguous to even call it "taken care of."
The moment I stepped back, the thing slammed itself into the wall first, and the two S-class hunters moved in simultaneously.
I hadn't done anything again.
Yet people saw it as if I'd set the stage for it.
So by lunchtime the next day, even picking out a single triangle kimbap felt scary.
Lunchtime hit, and my stomach reacted first.
I'd been on my feet since morning, so I thought my legs would give out first, but it was my gut that twisted up instead.
I stood blankly in front of the convenience store display, then habitually opened the fridge door.
The triangle kimbaps were lined up in a row.
Tuna mayo, tuna kimchi, cheese fire chicken, egg soy sauce.
I had no idea why choosing one hurt my head so much.
Just grab something.
But my hand wouldn't move easily.
Maybe because the chat had been going nuts since yesterday—whatever I picked, they'd insist it meant something.
I paused for a moment.
Just go for the safest one.
My stomach was burning, so no spicy stuff, and anything too greasy would make the afternoon drag even more.
In the end, my fingertips touched the tuna mayo.
That instant, my mind went strangely quiet.
As if I hadn't made the choice myself, but someone had already picked it for me.
I swallowed a sigh as I watched the comments scroll by on screen.
"I'm just eating it."
I muttered, and the chat only ramped up more.
I fiddled with the triangle kimbap wrapper and glanced toward the counter.
The Store Manager caught my eye and jerked his chin.
"What're you agonizing over? If you're hungry, grab two."
"One's fine."
"Yeah, if you can hold out on that, sure."
The Manager didn't drag it out.
He never did.
When everyone else was side-eyeing for hidden meanings, he was the only one who took it at face value without fuss.
That made it easier.
I set the tuna mayo on the counter, hesitated, then grabbed another.
Egg soy sauce.
The Manager raised an eyebrow at it.
"Two this time?"
"No. That one's more filling..."
Mid-sentence, it sounded like an excuse.
I scratched my nape awkwardly.
The Manager didn't laugh, just scanned it.
"Fine. But don't tough it out to dinner like that—grab some soup at least."
His words felt so grounded, it eased my mind more.
I nodded instead of answering.
Nothing special, but that short line pressed down my tension too.
I finished paying and took the plastic bag.
At this point, I wasn't sure if I should laugh or sigh.
As I turned to the Manager, he tossed a small cup of soup onto my hand.
"Service. You look kinda pale today."
"No, it's not that bad..."
"Shut up and eat."
I couldn't say a word.
Just bowed my head.
In moments like this, it didn't matter if I was really F-class or whatever.
Hungry stomach, someone adding soup, and the Manager not wrapping it in weird meanings.
That was good.
Really good.
I said nothing and sat at the small table.
Unwrapped it, and faint steam rose.
The chat flipped instantly at the sight.
I bit into the tuna mayo.
Salty-savory flavor spread in my mouth.
My stomach settled a bit.
No chopsticks needed—a lump of rice this grateful felt a little sad.
In dungeons, one wrong step meant death.
Outside, even breathing got analyzed.
Right now, I just wanted to focus on chewing and swallowing.
Rice softened in my mouth, mayo's oily tang lingered on my tongue.
I opened the cup soup lid, thin steam blurred my vision briefly.
That short haze felt good.
Couldn't see whoever was watching me.
Problem was, every little move to fill my stomach was under observation.
Chewing speed, bag placement, grabbing soup before water—everything.
They were hunting for hidden tactics in my one tuna mayo triangle kimbap.
Comments hit right as I chewed slow.
I ended up laughing.
Out of sheer absurdity.
The chat heated up at my laugh.
Then the shop door opened, and a customer walked in.
A boy who looked like a student.
He scanned the shelves once and grabbed a tuna mayo triangle kimbap without a second thought.
I glanced at it meaninglessly.
But the chat didn't miss a beat.
"Nah, that doesn't seem related at all."
I muttered to myself, and the student customer glanced at me, freezing briefly.
I quickly looked away.
Felt like it was my fault somehow.
The Manager headed back to the counter and said low.
"Don't mind it. People always see what they wanna see."
Those words lingered oddly long.
I bit into the triangle kimbap again.
Like the Manager said, the world mostly sees what it wants.
Problem was, all those gazes zeroed in on me.
And my lunch choice always got interpreted before the rice did.
The student customer didn't leave right after paying.
He checked his phone at the auto door, then looked back at me.
That gaze made me more uneasy.
Half curiosity, half caution on his face.
Not eyes for person-to-person, but someone who'd read the rumors checking the original.
I grabbed the cup soup awkwardly.
My hand shook a bit, soup sloshing softly inside the paper cup.
A sip loosened my stomach some.
I propped the plastic bag beside me and gazed out the window briefly.
Ordinary afternoon.
Cars passing, people walking, auto door opening and closing.
But the chat was anything but ordinary.
I sipped the soup slowly.
Stomach warmed, but my back felt oddly chill.
Probably 'cause my lunch pic was already up somewhere.
Until just now, it was just chat noise.
But someone had actually snapped and posted it.
A strange title flashed on one side of the screen.
I froze, triangle kimbap in hand.
Photo was blurry but recognizable.
My shoulder at the counter corner, wrapper in hand, Manager-pushed cup soup.
A moment I hadn't even remembered was already evidence.
And I muttered very softly.
"Can't even eat in peace anymore."
New comments poured in right after.
Staring down at the kimbap, I felt my fingertips stiffen.
Atop the board, my lunch photo was already pinned.
Below it, even the cup soup I'd paused on was circled.
I couldn't swallow the rest.
A lump of rice stuck in my throat, lingering long.
The Manager silently slid over a tissue.
That grounded reality left me even more speechless.
The tuna mayo taste in my mouth suddenly felt foreign.
Rice unchanged, but me eating it had shifted.