Chapter 17
Chapter 17
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: 16. Kim Pokttal's Adventure (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It's a café.
This place is a dungeon.
It's teeming with people, the staff are rushed off their feet,
and every customer is dressed in office clothes, ID badges dangling from their necks.
In my worn-out T-shirt and hoodie, I'm the total outsider here.
I'm a top ranker in Billion Saga, but right now I'm level 1, clutching a wooden club, taking my shaky first steps.
It's a little scary, but I'll be fine.
Just like back in school or the orphanage, if I grind away on my own, this moment will pass somehow too.
I don't care if anyone whispers about me or stares weirdly.
This isn't my world anyway.
But still.
Something feels off.
Why does my heart feel so at ease smack in the middle of this dungeon?
A soft voice drifts over.
"Espresso is the base coffee. Mix in different things from over there, and you get all sorts of other coffees."
Right now, Mr. Kwon is diligently explaining the menu to me.
What an odd guy.
Normally, if someone says they don't know how to order... wouldn't they just order for you?
I'm grateful if someone teaches me, sure, but who goes to the trouble of patiently walking me through every single item on that huge menu?
Yet Mr. Kwon dove right into the complicated path without a second thought.
Did he read my mind or something?
But coffee's just coffee, right? What's espresso then? Some legendary brew?
"Ah, espresso's coffee brewed with steam. The name? Eh, there are all sorts of theories, so just think of it as some cool-sounding Italian word."
See? Weird, right?
Again.
I definitely didn't say a word.
I only thought it.
So how's he answering my unasked question?
Have I been holed up in my room so long I've forgotten how to think without mumbling?
Or... did Mr. Kwon actually read my mind?
The café is noisy.
Staff are shouting orders, people snatch their coffees and hurry off the second they're ready.
Countless folks brush past the line, only for fresh crowds to swarm in.
And there we stand like an island amid the waves.
A coffee lecture in the middle of this rush hour madness—what a bizarre situation.
But I'm at ease.
Probably thanks to Mr. Kwon.
Dressed sharply in his suit, pressed close to my side, he makes me feel like I belong in this world.
If anyone's about to bump into me, he casually grips my shoulder and adjusts our position.
Thanks to him, I just have to stand still to feel this steady sense of security.
Armor and positioning— is Mr. Kwon secretly a tank?
I came here to sell my painting today.
But now all my focus is on him.
The first coffee I ever drank had soft foam, but the taste was...
Ugh...
The worst.
Bitter, acrid, gritty—like someone deliberately ruined the flavor of milk.
But since Mr. Kwon went to the trouble of explaining, I should force down at least half.
"Artist."
Suddenly, Mr. Kwon calls out.
I jump. Did my thoughts leak out again?
"Yes, Mr. Kwon!"
"See that bottle on the shelf over there?"
"Yeah, yeah. I see it."
"That's syrup. Try adding just two pumps."
Whoa.
Did you see that?
Did I just say my thoughts out loud?
No, right?
So how does he keep doing this?
Mr. Kwon is seriously, seriously weird.
The cake he bought me is delicious, but I'm not sure if it's going in through my nose or down my throat.
Right now, I'm sneaking peeks at Mr. Kwon.
He's sitting across from me, gazing out the window.
My drawing skills got exposed, so his job here's done ages ago.
Now he's just waiting for me to finish my cake.
That's probably why he's not looking my way.
So I can eat comfortably without feeling watched.
Now I get it.
Spying on him like this, I finally figured out why he keeps catching my thoughts.
I can feel it.
From his half-lidded eyes, his chin lazily propped on his hand, that hand itself, his gently swaying bangs.
Intense attention pouring straight at me.
My glances, my gestures, my smiles, my head tilts, my hesitations.
He's catching every signal I send and piecing together my thoughts.
He's channeling all his affection right into me.
Mr. Kwon has deep shadows under his eyes.
Didn't get much sleep? Or work wearing him down?
Even with those tired eyes, he's pouring every bit of focus on me willingly.
This... this is Seonghyeon's technique.
I thought there was only one person in the world who could pull off magic like this.
No way... is the guy in front of me Kwon Seonghyeon Fighter?
Haha, nah. Couldn't be.
C'mon, Korea's huge.
I've never even left Seoul, and Seoul alone is so vast you couldn't see it all in a lifetime.
What are the odds of pinpointing Seonghyeon in all this land?
A smidge higher than zero, maybe?
So, how about this line of thinking?
Actually, this world is full of people brimming with affection just like Seonghyeon!
People like Mr. Kwon.
Then it makes sense that I've met two of them!
I'd love for that to be true.
Because if the world was crawling with Seonghyeon-types, I could live like a normal person too.
Maybe I'm not the broken one—maybe I just had rotten luck with people.
But nope.
"Me, Kwon Seonghyeon Fighter? How long are you gonna take to figure it out?"
There it is.
I'm not normal, after all.
Seonghyeon's just special, and I happened to bump into that special guy twice by sheer coincidence.
Doesn't add up probability-wise, but this feels more believable.
No way people like that are common, right?
So then... is this absurd probability destiny?
"Total bug."
"Such a massive bug."
Seonghyeon calls this insane coincidence a "total bug."
But I know better.
It's not a bug or destiny—it's balance.
Overpowered bosses always hide glaring weaknesses.
Weak mobs that drop in one hit swarm in hordes.
Monsters, characters, items—they all have their own balance.
And me too!
I'm a defective product wired to love exactly one person.
But in exchange, that one person was dropped right in front of me.
Through impossible odds of hundreds of millions to one.
I can guess who pulled the strings.
At the orphanage, we'd pray before every meal.
The kids squeezed their eyes shut, deep in chatter with Jesus.
I'd never tried it.
Nothing to wish for.
[Boost the gold rates, please.]
[Make the landlady forget this month's rent.]
Even Jesus wouldn't hear prayers like that.
But now that this moment's here, I finally get it.
Why they all prayed so hard.
Can you believe it?
This is reality.
Seonghyeon's right in front of me.
If praying hard could land you a miracle like this once in a lifetime,
I'd pray forever.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I blackmailed Seonghyeon into drinking with me.
Alcohol makes the whole world vanish.
The loud guy at the next table, the incessant ding-dong of bells, the roaring cheers— all gone, leaving just me and Seonghyeon.
[How the heck did we end up meeting like this?]
[Remember that time back then?]
[Yeah, that was hilarious.]
[First time you saw my figurine, right? You still got it? Lemme see yours too.]
[We grinded so hard for that tournament.]
[Totally, pulling all-nighters, heh.]
[Hey, we'll still be gaming together in ten years, right?]
[Obviously.]
Time slips away unnoticed.
This dreamlike moment flows on.
Wish it could last forever, but no.
Even this sparkling instant fades into logout like any other day.
"Seonghyeon, you gonna be okay getting home alone?"
"Yeah..."
"Alright then... I'm off?"
"Yeah..."
"See you tomorrow. Heh, tomorrow's a real day off, right? I'm gaming all day."
"Yeah..."
I wave for a good long while before turning away.
For a brief moment, I was happy.
For lowly Park Dahye to slip into the daily life of a proper adult like Kwon Seonghyeon Fighter, even just for a bit—it's thrilling enough to make my shoulders hunch involuntarily.
Probably won't happen again.
In reality, I can barely scrape together food and rent, let alone meet people.
Truth is, I only play Billion Saga to survive—without it and Seonghyeon, I'd have died long ago.
So, seeing Seonghyeon in Billion Saga is more than enough.
He's the one keeping me alive, so I won't get greedy.
Our lives are just wired differently.
So I can steel myself cleanly,
buck up,
huh...
and hold back the tears.
Push on.
That's when it happened.
Something hot like lava clamped down on my hand.
I turn, and there's Seonghyeon standing there.
"Seonghyeon, wha..."
I'm flustered.
That face...
Seonghyeon's face gripping my hand—
it's not the composed, upstanding adult from moments ago.
Right now, Seonghyeon looks like a ten-year-old kid,
tears and snot smeared everywhere,
overwhelmed by bursting emotions.
What... what am I supposed to do now?
I barely held it together.
But the tears come anyway.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇