Chapter 5: The Price of a Slip of the Tongue and a Difficult Delivery

‘I should have watched my mouth.’

Yeon-ho bit his lip and rose from his seat. His tendency to lose awareness of his surroundings when engrossed in a single thought was both a flaw and a chronic habit.

Whether he had regressed or not, it was prudent to keep information about the future to himself. Any details he let slip, whether accurate or not, could easily draw suspicion.

He didn’t care how the ‘young boomer’ viewed him. However, he couldn’t afford to be branded as eccentric by Owner Yang.

“Owner, about that…”

“Your hop lemon tea is ready!”

Just as he was about to speak to the owner, the part-timer emerged from the kitchen and activated the vibrating pager. A low hum resonated throughout the store.

The young boomer rose, holding the pager, and approached Yeon-ho. Though his gaze was fixed beyond the counter, Yeon-ho could tell his exact proximity by the distinctive scent of his cologne.

The man’s perfume carried an unusual fragrance, unlike anything Yeon-ho had ever encountered. It evoked images of a dazzling, scorching sun and a white sandy beach heated intensely by its rays.

A sharp nudge.

The man shoved Yeon-ho’s back with his elbow.

“Ugh.”

Yeon-ho, who had nearly slammed his solar plexus into the counter, turned to face the man with a look of utter bewilderment. The man, once again heavily armed with a hat, sunglasses, and a mask, offered a slight nod as if to convey it was an accident.

Yet, Yeon-ho was certain it was no mistake. Just as a villain in a thriller film can be identified by their mere silhouette, he could practically feel the man smiling behind his mask.

‘What a childish jerk.’

Yeon-ho glared at the retreating figure of the man, who was now carrying his drink, and gritted his teeth. He silently wished the man would hit his head on the arched entrance, but the man shrewdly ducked, avoiding any collision.

As if reading Yeon-ho’s very thoughts, the man suddenly turned back to look at him. Their eyes met through the sunglasses, and Yeon-ho was overcome by an inexplicable sense of defeat.

“Kid, weren’t you trying to tell me something earlier?”

Yeon-ho snapped his head towards Owner Yang, a look of realization dawning on his face.

‘I’m losing my mind. I almost messed up something important because of someone I’ll never see again.’

Yeon-ho chided himself for his distraction, then composed his expression.

“Owner, I spoke a bit hastily earlier and might have made a slip of the tongue.”

“A slip of the tongue? When did you do that, kid?”

Owner Yang tilted their head, as if hearing this for the first time.

“Ah, are you perhaps talking about when you confidently declared the drama would flop?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, come on, that’s hardly a slip of the tongue. Before movies are released, I say all sorts of things too—like whether I think they’ll be a hit or a flop.”

“That’s true, but what I actually meant and what came out of my mouth were different, and it’s bothering me. I really dislike being misunderstood because of my words.”

“Alright, alright. Kid, you’re tall, but you’re quite timid, aren’t you? No, ‘timid’ isn’t quite right. Let’s call it ‘delicate.’ Yes, why are you so sensitive?”

Owner Yang playfully slapped Yeon-ho’s arm, then gave him a look that encouraged him to clarify what he wanted to correct.

“I didn’t mean that *Cold Reading* would flop; I wanted to say that *its competing drama* would. But my words got twisted…”

Yeon-ho quickly glanced at Owner Yang’s reaction. Leaning against the counter with their arms crossed, Owner Yang’s face instantly brightened.

“I knew it! That’s what you meant. If *Cold Reading* becomes a huge hit, its competitors are bound to fail!”

Owner Yang seemed unable to contain their delight.

“Kid, these are butter bars we made here at the shop. Have them as a snack while you work.”

Owner Yang smiled broadly and pressed a handful of neatly packaged snacks into Yeon-ho’s hand. Earlier, they had feigned nonchalance, claiming anyone could freely say a drama would flop, but it was clear the comment had been weighing on them.

Yeon-ho, thinking he had done well to mend his words, carefully affixed drama posters to other spots.

****

Yeon-ho had found his own little ‘sparrow’s mill’ – a stationery shop selling decorative stickers, pens, and fancy goods. Whenever he had no calls and found himself idle, he would loiter around the store.

He did this to check if there were many customers, as he felt self-conscious entering a crowded store. How awkward would it be for other shoppers if a tall man in a helmet strode into the tiny four-pyeong shop and started rummaging through stickers and masking tape?

‘This is cute. Is it a new release from Sweet Workshop? But it’s so expensive.’

Yeon-ho held the stickers, scrutinizing them for a long time. In his heart, he wished to buy every type of sticker displayed in the store. However, his meager finances prevented him from ever taking them to the checkout.

“The sticker packs in the front row are on sale.”

At the casual remark from the stationery shop owner, Yeon-ho’s heart gave a mighty thump.

Sale.

A magical word that paralyzed a person’s reason.

Yeon-ho, as if possessed by a demon, approached the sale display and checked the sticker pack’s price. It was half the original price.

Joyfully, Yeon-ho reached for a bundle of stickers, then paused.

‘How much allowance do I have left this month?’

Yeon-ho’s budget was always tight. Buying this meant cutting back on food or cigarette expenses. Since he couldn’t reduce his food budget any further, the only option was cigarettes. He tried to recall how many he smoked a day.

‘One before starting work in the morning, one after lunch, one after dinner, and another one or two if I meet a difficult customer or work is tough. If I smoke two fewer cigarettes a day…’

“Haaah.”

He felt a pang of self-pity as he calculated. To be agonizing over such trivial matters for an item less than ten thousand won felt pathetic.

Spending money on something that wasn’t a necessity made him feel guilty, as if he were wasting it on frivolous things. Although, buying stickers *was* a frivolous thing.

He had just decided to give up on buying the stickers when another customer opened the shop door and entered.

“Let’s go in here. It looks like there are tons of cute things.”

“Hey, wait. There’s someone inside?”

“What’s wrong with someone being inside? Oh…”

The customer saw Yeon-ho and quickly turned away.

The rattling sound of an old fan, reportedly from a vintage shop, filled the room. Listening to the noise, which heightened the tension like background music in a thriller, Yeon-ho clutched the back of his neck.

‘What a nuisance I am. Not even buying anything, yet scaring customers away.’

The stationery shop owner had never once hinted that Yeon-ho should buy something, even when he only browsed and left. This made the current situation even more embarrassing for him.

‘Buy it. If not now, when will I ever buy one?’

Yeon-ho bought the sticker pack, feeling as though he was paying for all the times he had browsed the shop without buying anything, and then stepped outside.

‘Even the bag they put it in is cute.’

His mood was a complex mix. The joy of having something he liked, coupled with the self-reproach of having spent his dinner money, left Yeon-ho feeling bewildered. Especially for an item with absolutely no practical use.

‘Where will I use this? …Should I stick it on my scooter?’

Yeon-ho crouched in front of his scooter, thinking he had truly wasted his money. The scooter was haphazardly covered with stickers from various designer and street brands. These weren’t Yeon-ho’s work, but rather the creation of the person who had lent him the scooter.

‘It’s probably not right to put stickers on someone else’s property.’

Ding.

Just as he started the scooter, thinking he’d find a place for the stickers later, a notification chimed, indicating a call had been assigned. Feeling guilty about his impulsive purchase, Yeon-ho quickly launched the app.

However, the slight relief on Yeon-ho’s face, brought on by the thought of earning money, instantly hardened the moment he checked the delivery address.

“I really don’t want to go here.”

Yeon-ho switched off his scooter and glared at the address displayed on the app: Elysium City, the most expensive mixed-use apartment complex in the vicinity. Riders disliked calls from Elysium as much as those from university lecture halls.

Entry was difficult due to strict security, and elevator use was restricted, meaning deliveries took two to three times longer than at other locations. Still, it wasn’t a ‘shit call’ to outright reject, especially since it was a time when few calls were coming in.

Nevertheless, Yeon-ho hesitated to accept the call due to the specific building and unit number.

‘Building 101, Unit 2104. Every time I deliver to that place, I come back mentally exhausted.’

Since becoming a delivery rider, Yeon-ho had encountered all sorts of difficult customers. From those who would pick absurd fights to lower his rating, to people who would curse directly at his face, fraudsters who denied receiving food they had taken, and beggars asking him to pay for their order—the types of nuisances were endless.

Unit 2104’s nuisance rating hovered between B- and C, not particularly high. If it were an S-rank ‘villain’ that made him feel he’d rather die than deliver there again, he would have blocked them already.

The problem was that Unit 2104 always stopped their aggravating behavior just before Yeon-ho reached the point of thinking, ‘I really can’t do this anymore. I’m never coming here again, no matter how much they pay!’

Yeon-ho preferred a completely unlucky situation, one so bad he’d never want to see it again, rather than this constant teasing of his nerves, always on the verge of crossing a line.

‘Why is the delivery fee so tempting, making me hesitate like this?’

The amount shown on the app included various surcharges—for the specific apartment, for security, and for high-rise delivery—making the payout better than even a long-distance run across districts.

Yeon-ho gazed down at the rustling sticker bag in his arms with a troubled expression, then pressed the accept button. This decision came after much deliberation: either return to the stationery shop for a refund or accept the call.

He didn’t have the courage to go back and return the stickers, fearing the shop owner would see him as a difficult customer. As for Unit 2104, while they were annoying, at least he wouldn’t have to face them directly.