The Impoverished Noble Lady's Morning Shift

Sylvia Polion, her fiery red hair neatly tied into twin tails, glared at the customer with her sharp, upturned eyes. Beep! The man whose eyes met hers as she scanned the barcode flinched.

"Ahem."

Was it just awkwardness? As Sylvia scanned the item again with the barcode reader, a customer in the uniform of the nearby blacksmith guild cleared his throat awkwardly. The guild clerk couldn't meet her gaze.

"4 gold 22 silver it be."

Her sharp features and clear, ringing voice were at odds with her plain, earnest speech. And peeking out from under her DG Convenience Store vest was the uniform of the Imperial Academy—a school attended only by nobles. A part-timer in the Imperial Academy uniform. It meant her status was anything but ordinary. A mere commoner working at the guild couldn't dare meet her eyes.

Sylvia casually calculated the change for the customer who handed over a 10-gold sapphire coin.

"10 gold received. Change is 5 gold 78 silver it be."

"Th-thank you."

The customer bowed almost reflexively. Ah, I know that feeling all too well.

"Farewell."

Sylvia didn't forget her polite goodbye. The customer left the store awkwardly.

Sylvia had a rather fierce impression. Her blank expression made her look ready to pick a fight at any moment—a stubborn, unyielding noble lady from a count's household. That was her first impression. So customers visiting the convenience store always reacted like that at first sight. They instinctively yielded. Her subtly refined demeanor and expression made people wonder if she was some great noble. And she had been, once.

Sylvia Polion. Third daughter of the Polion Count's family—a central noble house with tradition and solid influence.

A former academy student. Suspended for an incident at the academy and disowned by her family for bringing shame upon them, she was now a fallen lady working the morning and afternoon shifts at our convenience store.

So the subtle intimidation the customers felt was only natural. She'd improved a lot after two years here. Back then, she was on another level.

'Why should I ring up your stuff?'

'Scan it yourself.'

'Sigh, do I have to say it twice? 11 gold 8 silver.'

'Store manager! Do I have to clean this?'

Ugh, I had to bow and scrape so much to handle the complaints back then. I nearly got a herniated disc from apologizing every day. Now, through training, she'd learned service spirit—and knowing she had no other way to survive, she treated customers very kindly. That was her now.

"Finally past the rush."

I wiped the sweat from my forehead after seeing off the last customer. Rush hour lived up to its name—people flooded in right at opening.

"Well done, Store Manager-sir."

"You too, Sylvia."

"Already 11 o'clock."

"Lunch in just an hour."

It wouldn't be as bad as now, but office workers heading out for lunch would swarm soon. Less hectic than morning rush, but still busy. The store would fill with people grabbing bentos or cup ramen.

Even in this world, busy folks solved meals with cup ramen. Mostly guild clerks nearby or laborers roaming Oscar's streets. Surprisingly few adventurers. I'd asked a receptionist at the adventurer guild.

'Most adventurers camp outside the city, so they go for onigiri. Cup ramen isn't popular among them—too smelly, they say.'

Triangular kimbap sold like hotcakes, then.

"Um, Store Manager-sir..."

Sylvia approached hesitantly while tidying the counter.

"Yeah?"

"Any discards left from yesterday?"

"Discards?"

"Yes, well..."

Gurgle! Her stomach let out a loud rumble—nothing like Elena's cute ones.

"Probably a bento left."

Her face lit up.

"Th-then..."

"Go ahead. Can't process discards anyway."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Color bloomed on her cheeks. I fetched yesterday's discarded pork cutlet bento from the fridge and handed it over.

"Ahh, pork cutlet bento..."

Her eyes sparkled like she'd received a holy relic. She swallowed hard, clutching it.

With lunch rush coming, we ate early—it was our rule.

No matter that she couldn't use her count's name anymore, a former academy student and onetime noble trembling over a discarded bento. Who'd have guessed? The once-promising mage, quivering over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one bento. Not even I knew. Two years was a long time—enough to change a person.

"Thanks for the meal!"

She bowed deeply. I glimpsed her frayed academy uniform under the vest. She'd worn it constantly since her suspension and disownment two years ago. Like a reminder of her past mistakes. Tough magic-treated fabric, but after two years, it should be worn and stained.

She's taking good care of it. It still looked decent.

"You can grab one even if it's not discarded, you know?"

I said as she microwaved the expired pork cutlet bento.

"No, sir."

Her reply was firm.

"You give a bit more pay instead of meal allowance. Eating bentos for free would be pity and begging from you, sir."

Isn't discarding the same? The retort nearly escaped, but I held it. I wasn't a low-class manager shaming my part-timer.

Truth was, I'd set aside that pork cutlet bento yesterday. Couldn't tell her—might crush her remaining pride. Knowing why she hated freebies, I couldn't push.

"Alright. Enjoy."

"Grateful, sir."

She hummed, pulling the steaming bento from the microwave.

"Hum-hum~. Pork cutlet~ pork cuuutlet~~."

The tsundere noble lady who never smiled in public, grinning ear-to-ear at the steaming bento. Adorable. Made saving the discard worth it. A manager's job: happy part-timers.

"Itadakimasu!"

Her old academy classmates wouldn't believe it. Two years of store work turned her into a pork cutlet maniac.

"Hauum~, can't satisfy without pork cutlet anymore!"

Too much convenience store food isn't healthy.

"Anyway, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm clocking out. Handle it with Elena later."

"Yes, sir!"

I left Sylvia humming over her cutlet via the back door.

Not easy for a noble to have that survival instinct. Why did that aura-emitting noble miss end up like this? I took good care of her, too.

Pondering her changes, I climbed the stairs. On the second floor, two doors.

That was it. Stairs went up from 3F, but iron doors blocked them. Even with magic, nothing.

Tried a few times, gave up. No need to force it. No issues so far. None ahead.

It'll open when the time comes. Optimistic, I opened the left door.

Clunk.

37-pyeong my house. Spacious living room, kitchen, four bedrooms—a modern apartment. More like my old world's than fantasy buildings. Easy to adapt.

Isekai'd with my own convenience store and big house. Housing solved. Best isekai ever! Too big for one guy, but filled up quick—no wasted space.

AC on, clothes tossed, straight to shower. Mirror showed my body—muscles honed by relentless training to forget nightly nightmares of that day's Se-rin. Those muscles banished her from my dreams. I wasn't the weak Kim Do-jin anymore.

Still, my reflection wasn't bright. Scars across my body—horrific wounds unhealable even by magic or holy power—stirred other memories. Unforgettable. My indelible past here.

"Haa."

Shooo! Hot water poured.

Steam obscured the mirror.

"Fuuu...."

Temp adjusted, I soaked under the spray. Yesterday's fatigue washed away.

"Haa, feels alive."

Forget now. Focus on being a real store manager. That's it.

I checked the warehouse list for missing stock while organizing. Elena manned the counter.

Third-year vet now. Handled things solo fine.

"Snacks sold less than expected. Daily goods flew this week—need reorder. Drinks almost gone."

Find shortages, order them. My warehouse task today.

The essential skill running this store: Order. Without it, no stock, no value.

Dunno how it works.

Pay in empire currency, system stocks warehouse in an hour. Like Santa's gifts. No trucks—items appear in place. I just check and shelve. Same for fridge/freezer: drinks, fruits fresh; ice cream, frozen foods.

Scale was mart-level.

Original convenience stores weren't this big. Expanded on isekai.

Perfect skill. Drawbacks: fixed max quantities per item, unchangeable. Three years of grind, no catalog expansion—except rare specials.

Seems unlockable, but no hints. System's unfriendly.

Isekai cheat like game skills. If a novel insertion, clues exist. None here.

Keep ordering, maybe? Who knows when.

Still, enjoying the "new life for your misfortune."

Grinning at POS cash daily joy. Weekly deposits twitched my lips. Tomorrow, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠another zero in the balance.

Happy. Minus entanglements to survive here.

Finished ordering.

"Store Manager."

Elena peeked in.

"Customer looking for you."

The guide from Crown Prince Astur.

"Be right out."