UR Chapter 64

Chapter 64

I-bom jumped in surprise and quickly hit the close button on the window.

“Uh—welcome! This is Happy Convenience Store!”

He jerked his head up and greeted loudly. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but the way he blurted it out, as if guilty, would have seemed suspicious to anyone. He was suddenly afraid the customer might have noticed something odd when they walked in. Forcing an overly wide smile, he gave another bright greeting.

“If you’re, uh, looking for something…!”

The customer who had entered was… an unbelievably handsome boy.

An idol?

I-bom reflexively rubbed his eyes. Could someone that good-looking really exist? He had ash-gray hair with a blue sheen, pale skin, and eyes that seemed to fade into a blue gradient, maybe thanks to colored lenses. His small face was perfectly balanced with neat, well-placed features. Compared to him, I-bom felt like… a potato or a sweet potato.

“Hello.”

The boy, who looked like he’d stepped out of a TV screen, smiled brightly and greeted him. Even that felt unreal. Dazed, I-bom accepted the greeting. At his own height somewhere in the 170s, he found his gaze drifting slightly downward to meet the boy’s eyes.

Maybe just starting middle school? He might be a child actor or a freshly debuted idol. The thought wasn’t far-fetched—not only because of his striking looks, but because his outfit was far from ordinary.

A white blouse, a black harness, and tailored dress pants that fit like they’d been made for him. It might pass as a stage costume, but it was definitely not something a regular person would wear out casually.

Is he here for a shoot? The manager didn’t say anything…

A bead of cold sweat slid down his neck as he brushed his bangs aside. The convenience store where I-bom worked sat at the entrance to a hiking trail, “the last convenience store you can walk to,” so while it got plenty of customers, it was small enough that it didn’t seem like the sort of place a broadcast crew would pick for filming.

He glanced at the corner of the monitor where the store’s work messenger chat was open—a group chat for the manager and part-timers.

If there was a big event or something they needed to know, the manager or a staff member would usually post it. But no matter how much he peeked, there was no mention of filming, no talk of a celebrity visiting, not even one of the manager’s usual nags.

So… not filming?

He mumbled to himself, staring blankly at the boy.

“Are you the one working here, hyung?”

“Ah, yes. I’m a staff member. Did you… come here for something else? Were you looking for the manager?”

Normally, customers only approached staff if they needed help finding something or had a question. Otherwise, it was rare to be spoken to directly. Wondering if there was some special task he didn’t know about, I-bom asked cautiously, looking tense.

“Oh, no.”

The boy answered quickly, then glanced around the store. It was just the two of them inside. He seemed to be quietly checking if anyone else was there.

“…Or are you looking for a specific item?”

At that, the boy nodded.

“Yes. I came to buy something called… an energy drink?”

“Ah, an energy drink? Sure, I’ll get it for you. Which one would you like?”

I-bom turned toward the small fridge next to the counter and reached for it.

Energy drinks… Do only good-looking people drink those now? The thought flitted briefly through his mind.

“Hmm…”

The boy loosely crossed his arms, staring fixedly at the fridge. His gaze at the rows of colorful cans was unusually serious. He seemed to think it over again, then lifted an index finger to his lips, tapping lightly as he murmured.

“Oh my god…!”

With eyes widening sharply in surprise, he pointed into the fridge.

“…So you’re telling me those cans—stuffed full of English words and artificial coloring—are what people drink as ‘energy drinks’? My goodness, is there nothing else?”

The tip of his finger trembled. He looked genuinely shaken, his brow shadowed deeply, and I-bom nodded in confusion.

“…Yes? Y-yes. That’s all we carry here at the convenience store. Were you looking for something specific?”

Placing a special order wasn’t difficult. The manager would probably refuse out of laziness, but these days it was possible to reserve a product through the store if a customer wanted it. Speaking gently, I-bom opened the ordering page on the computer.

“If you tell me what you want, I can look it up for you right away.”

“Really? Then… I’d like an energy tonic made with a hundred-year-old mandragora ginseng, brewed three times in first-grade spring water, and infused with organically certified deer antler from Fresh Mountain Village. Oh, and sugar-free. I don’t eat sugar—it makes my skin dry and damages it easily. While we’re at it, I’d prefer if all the sub-ingredients were also certified from Fresh Mountain Village.”

“Uh… what? Could you repeat that?”

Tap, pause.

I-bom froze mid-keystroke. He had heard the string of words that came out of the boy’s mouth, but it was so long he had no idea what to type in the search box.

“So… a hundred-year-old ginseng…? Sorry?”

His fingers hesitated. Lifting his head with a troubled expression, he placed his hands politely on the counter.

“Uh… I think you might be mistaken. We don’t sell things like that in convenience stores. If you want ginseng or herbal products, you’d have to go to an oriental medicine clinic or herb shop.”

It occurred to I-bom that the boy might be a beastman. For such a dazzlingly handsome boy to be talking about century-old ginseng and Fresh Mountain Village—it didn’t sound like something an ordinary person would say. Definitely not the sort of thing kids his age usually came in to buy.

“My god. So you’re saying that guy—oh, uh, my ‘hyung’—has been buying and drinking that artificially colored poison every time he came here? What a vile pit this mortal world is…”

The boy staggered as if in deep shock. He pressed a hand to his forehead, then slammed both palms onto the counter with a loud thud. The delicate fingertips, looking like they had never worked a day in their life, were turning red, but he didn’t seem to care.

Like an actor on stage, he spoke dramatically to himself. I-bom glanced toward the ceiling corners, checking if there was a hidden camera filming this. The ceiling was clean.

“Haa…”

Like a Shakespearean hero in despair, the boy bowed his head slightly, then lifted it slowly.

“I suppose there’s no helping it. As the good adult here, I’ll just have to understand.”

With a light sigh, his face hardened. There was a shadow of disappointment in his expression as he took out his wallet and pulled out a crisp 50,000-won bill.

“Then just give me whatever is most popular for now.”

“I’ll get you the basic flavor of Energy Monster, okay? That’ll be 3,000 won.”

I-bom took the basic flavor from the fridge. Just as he pressed the register button to open the till for change, the boy’s fingers landed lightly on his wrist, holding it still.

“Excuse me.”

“…Yes?”

“What’s your name, hyung?”

He was a strange boy. Clearly, he had the kind of shining, beautiful face that would make anyone turn for a second look, but something about him felt… off. Not just off—was that even the right word?

It felt like facing an enormous predator at dangerously close range. The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. His pupils widened, his body freezing on instinct, as if bracing for danger. His breath quickened like he was on the verge of suffocation.

“Uh…?”

It was like his body was warning him—You’re in danger right now. His pale face stiffened. All that had touched him were the boy’s fingertips on his wrist—no weapon, no threatening tone—yet this creeping sense of fear was starting to terrify him.

“I asked you. What’s your name?”

As the chill spread through him, I-bom slowly turned his eyes. When he looked at the boy in fright, the boy smiled as if he understood exactly what I-bom was feeling. His eyes crinkled at the corners, but it felt like staring into an endless abyss.

“Ah! Oops, guess I misjudged my strength.”

The boy released his wrist and tapped playfully at the name tag pinned to I-bom’s work vest. The threatening air was gone, replaced by a teasing gesture.

“I have no intention of hurting you.”

“….”

“Am I scary?”

The pale fingertips that brushed lightly against the plastic tag were almost dazzlingly white.