No Paradise for Part-Timers (Part 1)
Just as heated iron eventually cools, the price he had to pay for not fully understanding his own body—the searing agony throughout his entire frame—had finally subsided to some degree.
"...Heh heh heh. Freedom. Real freedom!! Freeeeedom---!!"
With the whole semester off until the next term, a whirlwind of random thoughts swirled through the head of this leave-of-absence student. Those hellish days were over! The so-called glory of defending the nation every damn day? Bullshit. No more living in constant pain during his military stint!
"Now it's time to put into action everything I dreamed up while stuck in the army!"
Even if he'd reverted to ordinary civilian physique, was that really just any 'ordinary' body? A guy in his early twenties, basically at the peak of his physical prime, from a unit that was practically special forces to boot.
"Whoa, whoa... yeah, the body's definitely feeling a bit heavy."
Without his ability, he still had near-infinite vitality and durability that bounced back quick as ever.
Kim Chomo's first destination after stepping out of the house feeling refreshed for the first time in ages was...
"...You fucking asshole. Why the hell are you showing up on a weekday afternoon? Got nothing better to do?!"
"Ahh, you wouldn't get it? This is called tea-bagging... perfect mockery for a lowly private like you..."
Ironically, it was visiting hours at the ability-user unit he'd bolted from because he couldn't stand it anymore. The visitee was, naturally, his friend Jeong Il-hwan. For the poor guy whose discharge wasn't set until next spring—a true grandson-level draftee.
"Don't get mad, this is pizza loaded with pricey seafood1."
How hard could it be to donate a few premium pies, even if they cost a bit? Of course, from Jeong Il-hwan's perspective, this unwelcome intruder was pure torture.
"...Ah. What the hell were the gate guards doing...? Don't they know your face? You look suspicious as fuck—why didn't they just shoot you?"
"Heh heh, you gonna have a soldier rough up a 'civilian'? Tch! Forgot that shit only flies in the '80s?!"
The guy yapping away was annoying on every level, and a few pizzas wouldn't forgive such an outrage. Thanks to this lunatic crashing visiting hours on a weekday, Jeong Il-hwan had to drag himself out without even a moment's rest.
Of all days, today he was on duty. To him, this visit was like booking a one-way ticket to hell.
"Hey, thanks to me, you won't get stuck in the army till your grandson's number comes up. Have a drink."
Sure, thanks to this guy, his discharge date wouldn't get pushed back, and he wouldn't get forcibly glued to the barracks anymore. But people are animals who forget favors and remember annoyances all too well.
No one could laugh after getting terrorized right before heading into dinner-and-straight-to-duty shift.
"I've gotta go on duty with the deputy platoon leader soon..."
"Hey! Jeong Il-hwan! They've been paging you—visiting hours! You here?!"
And to top it all off, the guy he was supposed to pull duty with tonight—who the hell was missing?—a short, squat shadow unmistakable even from afar was sprinting into the visiting room...
"Who's that? W-wait, don't tell me you had a g-girlfriend...?"
Today's duty officer, Sergeant Jeong Chorong, was on her tiptoes straining to glare at them.
"Oh, who do we have here? The rookie shrimp? First time since Bukhansan?"
Kim Chomo waved with a grin, reminiscing about that day.
"...Kyaaah!! Why the fuck is this crazy human bomb here?! Get him out, now--!!"
"D-deputy platoon leader! Calm down! What're you doing to a civilian!!"
Well, to her, it wasn't some fond memory—it was death knocking again. But luckily, Kim Chomo had at least basic social awareness.
"Hey, Jeong Il-hwan. Grab a pie and some cola, share it cozy-like with your tiny boss in one room."
As Kim Chomo shoved the pizza boxes to an awkward spot and turned to snag his share, from Jeong Il-hwan's blind side...
"Who's tiny, you bastard! There's no such thing as a 150cm tiny! ...Still, thanks. We'll eat well."
With a sly wink to Sergeant Jeong Chorong signaling 'go get her, tiger', her face flushed red. Helping nudge his buddy's love life forward like this—didn't he deserve some reward?
"Ah, I'll drop the last pie off to Doc Jeong myself. Owe him a ton from all those frozen IOUs."
"...Can outsiders just waltz into the unit like this...?"
Jeong Il-hwan grumbled about it being special forces, no outsiders allowed, but...
"I'm planning to dodge reserve duty anyway... If they call me up, I'll mobilize from here, right? Semi-outsider status."
Having left the unit, he knew all the military secrets anyway. No intent to cause trouble—just a quick visit to buddies, drop off gifts, head home. Sound reasoning.
"So go feed your girlfriend some pizza, chug a beer, stay awake on duty, and don't slack. I'm out, private!"
"Hey! It's not what you th—ugh, deputy platoon leader! N-no super strength!! My arm hurts!"
Snatching the last pizza box and yelling "you handle trash" as a parting bomb, he bolted. That tiny predator, eyes gleaming with resolve, would take care of babysitting Jeong Il-hwan herself.
"Alright, time for purpose number two."
Whistling, Kim Chomo headed off with the still-steaming pizza box to find the hell-recruited medic who was probably cursing up a storm while chugging beer and watching baseball in the infirmary.
Was it fitting for the top torture tech recruit, the kind who drools even in hell? Or had watching hellish scenes on TV more than saving lives warped his personality?
"Hey, Doc Jeong. You know why I'm—"
"You're blocking the screen, asshole! Get out!!"
Kwang--!!
"You fucking maniac?! Why throw a beer can at a person!!"
The price for briefly covering the TV: free beverage service. Generous to a fault. Even the calmest guy has three great evils that wreck mental health: booze, smokes, and all sorts of narcotic meds.
And surprisingly, Daejeon had a non-med narcotic thrill like that.
"Shiiibaaal...!! Why the fuck do they only suck when it matters--!! What's the point of pitching if you can't hit the strike zone--!!"
It was watching your local pro baseball3 team. A Daejeon native who'd moved to Seoul for college and rooted for the Eagles ever since. Doc Jeong was semi-normal late fall through winter, but spring to early fall? Pure beast mode.
"Can't survive without booze!!"
"You... sigh, fine. Just don't binge."
Even when the battalion commander—buried in a landslide by Kim Chomo—banned unit boozing outright, this guy stuck to his guns.
"Wait, a doctor's running dual-core on booze and smokes? Isn't that bad for you?"
"Then watching this shit team play isn't bad for you?! Stress is the root of all evil!"
To the doc, already hammered, crumpling his fifth beer can on the floor...
"Sigh, brought it as dinner sub... ended up as drinking snacks."
"Damn, tastes good... love this thin crust you got."
The crispy pizza Kim Chomo brought barely reeled his sanity back for a moment.
"Heh... heh heh, this team's shit... putting up another pitcher who can't even hit the zone..."
Once beer ran dry and he started chugging soju straight from the bottle, Doc Jeong was perfectly sloshed in 30 minutes flat.
"Doc Jeong? Use your ability on me, yeah? Body's all fucked from that recon fight."
"Wha...? Chomo? What... all a dream? Y-yeah, our Eagles wouldn't play like that..."
Kim Chomo ran his con on the weakened mark.
"Y-yeah! Heave-ho. Gimme your arm here!"
Lucky for Kim Chomo, even blackout drunk and wits fried, Doc Jeong didn't forget how his ability worked...
"...Huh?"
Unlucky part: even with Kim Chomo's discharge sparking open slacking, this was the front lines fighting monsters. Injuries poured in daily.
In other words, usage frequency gave Doc Jeong way more XP than Kim Chomo's big one-off haul.
"----!!! Ah, aaaagh...!! Gruuhhh...!!"
Before, pain stabbed like a knife in key spots with burning heat. Now? Guerrilla muscle twists exploding everywhere, no mercy.
He foamed at the mouth from the start, staggering desperately out the gate before full-body lockdown kicked in.
"...What? Visiting hours over, and now this guy's coming out...? Fuuuuck!!"
"His whole body's twisted! What's with that face?!"
Delivering shock and awe to the conscripts at the guard post...
"Nah, what ghost like that exists in this world."
"Dude! Platoon Sergeant Choi from next door saw it himself!! Zombie with rolled-back eyes and convulsing all over!!"
Soon enough, he became the army's latest mystery ghost legend.
It was summer.
"...Ugh, that psycho torture tech finally mastered bone-marrow splitting."
For just pizza fare and travel costs to the unit, he'd slashed his civilian stint in half—a massive win from the investment genius, Kim Chomo.
He shuddered amid lingering phantom pains.
Summer hadn't even properly kicked off yet. Three months minimum till reenrollment.
Slacking a couple days was fine, but in this blood-boiling prime of youth, there were things only now made possible.
"Grandpa left some cash, so tuition, rent, living expenses should cover somehow..."
But relying fully on others? Not his style. Freshman year was study, booze, and wild shit with Il-hwan.
Chance to try the 'adult student' schedule he'd auto-skipped.
"Gonna do a proper part-time gig for once!"
Reenrolling fall semester, couldn't last long. But he'd overheard most hires run three-month trials.
"Earn a fat stack proper-like, spend my first real cash on myself."
Set a weekday main gig five days, weekends day labor or manual stuff...
"Not a fortune, but decent chunk for a college kid, right?"
Brimming with reentry hope, the young man dove into life's grind—till reality hit.
"One-month trial period, pay at 85% that time. Cool?4"
"...Pardon?"
It didn't take long at all.