HTACS 01

Chapter 01

A completely unremarkable convenience store in the heart of Seoul. It spans 25 pyeong in floor space—just another franchise you could find anywhere.

“Yeongjin.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Boss, my ass. I told you to call me hyung.”

“…Haha. Right. Hyung. What’s up?”

Me, working part-time there for three years now. Lee Yeongjin, youth with fire in his blood, came scurrying over at the boss’s call.

“It’s not even shift-change time. What’s going on?”

“Just lock the front door for a sec and come to the back office.”

I faithfully carried out the order and went to the office. Hyung was sitting in a chair, looking up at me.

“I locked up and came, hyung.”

“Good. Can’t have customers walking in while we’re talking… Anyway, Yeongjin, how old are you this year?”

“…Twenty-nine in international age.”

“Look at this punk, gritting his teeth and refusing to say thirty.”

“Ah, come on. I’m twenty-nine. I’m already anxious about this being my ‘unlucky 29th year’—you wanna rub salt in the wound?”

“Alright, alright. Anyway, Yeongjin, you’re hitting three years next month, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been here a long time. Hey.”

“Thanks to you, hyung. Really.”

I’m what you’d call an orphan.

After graduating high school, I came to Seoul with five million won in my pocket. I found a one-room studio with a two-million-won deposit and three-hundred-thousand-won monthly rent, then worked whatever job I could get my hands on.

I can confidently say there’s no job I haven’t done. Then at twenty-six, I herniated a disc and, after a long detour, finally settled here—at this convenience store.

This convenience store is my home for the soul. My oasis. No team leader hounding me to come in on days off, no throwing my back out loading and unloading trucks, no older co-workers pressuring me to drink with them. Just come in the morning, clean, stock shelves, serve customers, work my shift, and go home when it’s over.

Isn’t that the very definition of peaceful contentment? Living at ease?

I worked hard, and the boss felt like an older neighborhood hyung—just a few years older than me—so it was really comfortable.

“…Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Hyung stared at me for a moment, then quietly opened his mouth, as if making a difficult decision.

“Yeongjin, do you have any dreams?”

“Dreams? You mean today’s soon-to-expire mentaiko mayo triangle kimbap?”

“…No, not that kind. Sigh.”

Hyung scratched his head vigorously. What’s up with him? Did he not wash his hair today?

“Three years—you’ve never caused any trouble, you handle customers well, deal with difficult ones properly, never messed up the POS system, clean well, stock shelves neatly, prep delivery app orders right away…”

“Hah, I’m the ace convenience store clerk of our neighborhood. A talent like me is nowhere to be found.”

“You’ve never been late from drinking the night before… You still playing that game?”

“D/Z SAGA? Yeah. Still playing it to death. I’m trying to find a new route this time.”

“…Right. Your hobby is clinging to one dead-end game for life.”

“Hey now. No bad-mouthing, no no.”

“……”

Why are you looking at me like that?

It’s not *that* much of a garbage game.

Okay, it is a garbage game. But still. If you’ve spent ten thousand hours on a game, shouldn’t it get some recognition?

“Anyway, that’s why I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I’m going to Australia.”

“…………? You go there all the time.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

I tilted my head. Australia? Why? Going skiing in Melbourne again? If he’s just going on a trip, I can cover two shifts myself.

…No.

The atmosphere feels off.

Come to think of it, he wouldn’t have called me in suddenly and said all this for no reason.

“Uh, by ‘going’ I mean…”

“Immigrating. For good.”

“Ah. I see.”

I nodded. So I’m being let go. Can’t be helped.

That’s the life of a part-timer—your circumstances change with the boss’s situation… Three years is a long run, I guess.

“I’m trying to wrap up as much as I can before I leave… but you’ve been on my mind.”

“Why? I’m confident I can take care of myself. I’ll just play that dead-end game you mentioned for a month or two, then find another part-time job.”

“…No, that’s not it, Yeongjin.”

“Yes, hyung?”

“You. Ever thought about taking over this store?”

“…Excuse me?”

Now *that* I did not see coming.

What is this, some hilarious hidden-camera prank?

“Customers come here looking for you by face, and you know the store’s sales—roughly enough for you to live on alone, right?”

“…I know. Even if it’s not a goldmine, there’s still profit even with two part-timers.”

“Right. So I’m saying take it over. I’ll transfer it to you as cheap as I can.”

“…Why all of a sudden? Is this an immigration or a fugitive escape?”

“Pfft. You little shit.”

“Sorry, boss.”

We looked at each other and cracked a small smile.

“…Well. I’m not exactly short on money. Once I go to Australia, I probably won’t be back for a good twenty years. So I’m sorting things out, and when it came to this place, you kept sticking in my mind.”

“Why are you ‘sticking’ me like that?”

“So, you not taking it?”

“You should stomp on me and leave.”

“Punk. You and your mouth, I swear. Anyway—I’ll adjust the premium fee as much as I can, so give it a shot.”

“…Me? As the owner?”

“Why not? Scared? Since when was Lee Yeongjin, the Seongbuk-dong convenience store master, a coward?”

“…Ha, what do you take me for? Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll be the boss. And hyung—when you’re skiing in Melbourne and get bored, order some delivery. I’ll send it right over.”

“…Ha, this punk.”

Hyung covered his face and giggled at whatever amused him so much, and I laughed along with him.

At first it’d be a burden of debt, but ironically, the transfer fee hyung quoted was almost exactly the amount I’d saved up so far. It was an overwhelmingly cheap price—probably his way of looking out for me.

“…Ha. Lee Yeongjin, going from convenience store clerk to—not even a manager—but the owner.”

“Convenience stores don’t have managers these days.”

“Ha, whatever. …Haha.”

“You crying?”

“No. A man like Lee Yeongjin—the heat of my burning heart would evaporate any tears before they fall…”

“……”

“I’ll step out for a bit.”

“Go ahead.”

I signed a preliminary contract and stepped outside with a swelling heart. I stretched my back—the one I can’t get through without painkillers—and looked up at the sky.

Doing a little hip-hop shuffle so no one would notice my flowing tears. That’s how I walked down the street.

And then—

*SCREEEECH!*

*CRASH!*

“Gahk!?”

My vision goes blurry. My body flies through the air. An indescribable pain and floating sensation takes over.

*THUD!*

My body, which hit head-first, bounced once more—*flop*—and slammed into the ground.

My fading vision desperately tried to catch what had hit me.

And then.

“Fuuu…ck.”

The burning youth, Lee Yeongjin, age 29.

Meeting his unlucky 29th year, he was struck and killed by the delivery truck for his very own convenience store.