A week had passed since I’d hunted the Shardbeak. A good week, all things considered. My skills had leveled up, and I’d even gained a few new ones.
“Purchase Mild Flavor Baekdu Ramen.”
[Are you sure you want to purchase this item?]
[Yes / No]
“Yes.”
A soft chime, and in the space illuminated by the shop’s interface, a five-pack of Baekdu Ramen Mild Flavor materialized out of thin air.
I picked it up, habitually checking the date.
“Expires three days later than the last pack I bought.”
As expected. The shop always generated a fresh item, its expiration date set from the day of purchase.
Of all the skills I’d acquired, the ‘Hearthbound Dwell Master’s Shop’ was by far the most useful. It let me register items and then buy them whenever I wanted. It was the only reason I hadn’t starved to death.
“Still, it’s a pain that I can only register ten items…”
I’d learned a few things about the shop over the past week. Ten items was the absolute limit, and once something was registered, it couldn't be deleted.
Also…
“The condition of the item when it’s first registered is the condition it’ll always be sold in.”
For example, when I first scanned the ramyun, it had three months left before it expired. Now, every pack I bought from the shop had exactly three months left on the clock. The shop replicated the item in the exact state it was in at the moment of registration.
“Well, three months is plenty of time.”
With no side dishes to speak of and food delivery a distant memory, ramyun was king.
I poured water into a pot, set it on the stove, and clicked the knob. With a series of sharp ticks and a soft whoosh, the blue flame sprang to life. I tore open the packets, dumping the dried vegetable mix and powdered soup base into the water as it heated.
Lunch today, for the seventh day in a row, was…
“Ramen time, ramen time, oh~ ramen~...”
The little tune died on my lips. I stood there, suddenly struck by a wave of self-loathing.
“…”
The world had ended. I had no idea if my parents were safe. And here I was, humming a stupid song while cooking in the very apartment they had poured their life savings into.
“Sigh…”
The water began to bubble. I had to eat. I had to survive.
As the pot came to a rolling boil, I dropped the block of noodles in. I watched it absently, stirring with my chopsticks just as the noodles began to soften. At the perfect moment, I cracked an egg into the swirling broth.
A minute later, I poured it all into a bowl. The noodles had the perfect al dente bite. I’d gotten the timing down to a science after so many repetitions.
I took a slurp. It tasted exactly as it should, but something was missing. It was about two percent shy of satisfying.
“I’m probably just getting sick of it.”
I’d been living alone for over three years, but I’d never eaten instant noodles this many days in a row. My mom used to visit once a week. She’d always tell me to relax, but she could never help herself, tidying up the apartment, stocking the fridge with side dishes, or making a big pot of curry.
After she left, the refrigerator would be packed. All I had to do was make rice. I had to eat her cooking before it went bad, so there was never a reason to make ramyun.
“…Han Eun-sook.”
It had been just over a week since I’d last tasted her cooking. Why did I suddenly miss it so desperately? I hadn’t even missed it this much during my mandatory military service.
Thunk.
A single, hot tear traced a path down my cheek. I wiped it away, my mind feeling hazy. Am I losing it?
One minute I was singing, the next I was crying into my noodles. Even I could tell my mental state was fragile.
“Get a grip.”
The bowl was still half-full, but my appetite had vanished.
“I’ll just throw it out.”
Food waste was something I was supposed to avoid at all costs, collecting any scraps to dispose of later. But now, I had a better way.
“Warehouse open.”
The interface appeared. I looked at the bowl of ramyun and issued a command.
“Store the contents of this bowl. Noodles, soup, vegetables, everything.”
[Store in warehouse?]
“Yeah.”
A soft light washed over the bowl, and the contents vanished, leaving it spotlessly clean, as if it had just been washed. It was a neat way to deal with leftovers. Through experimentation, I’d found that food stored in the warehouse didn't spoil or even touch.
“Pretty useful. I can eat it later if I run out of other food.”
After a quick rinse, I placed the bowl in the sink with the others.
“Son! You should do the dishes right away!”
The sight of the piled-up dishes brought my mom’s nagging voice back to my mind, and the melancholy returned.
“Hoo. Shop open.”
【The Hearthbound Dweller’s Shop】
Cheol-in Non-Slip Dumbbell 3kg (₩16,990)
Baekdu Ramen Mild Flavor (₩3,100)
Cheonghae Saemmul, 2L, 12 packs (₩12,400)
Nuri Our Rice 5kg (₩14,890)
Nuri Special Eggs, 10 count (₩3,950)
Easily Digestible Milk, 930ml, 2 packs (₩6,220)
Myeongga Olive Gim 24 packs (₩9,800)
Canola Oil, 900ml, 2 packs (₩12,330)
Half-empty Masitda Tomato Ketchup, 500g (₩3,350)
Orange Peel (₩300)
ᚠAvailable Balance: ₩1,893,340
▶Register Item
There they were, all ten of my registered items. It started with the dumbbell I’d used to kill the goblins, followed by essentials like ramyun, water, rice, eggs, milk, seaweed, and cooking oil.
The ninth item was a monument to my first mistake: ‘half-empty ketchup.’
“I figured the shop would just register it as a new product.”
But no. It registered the exact state of the item. I was lucky the ketchup I’d bought as an experiment from the shop was brand-new and sealed, even though the original was half-used.
And then there was the last item.
Orange Peel (₩300)
My blood pressure spiked just looking at it. After the ketchup incident, my foolish curiosity got the better of me. I wonder if I can even register garbage? I had thought. A pure, simple curiosity that had led to this disaster.
“You idiot.”
It was a steep price to pay. Right after, I’d tried to register a bottle of shampoo only to be met with a notification: [You can no longer register items in the shop].
“I should have been more careful.”
I cursed my past self for acting so thoughtlessly, but what was done was done.
“It’s fine. The shop skill has levels, so there must be a way to upgrade it. Then the number of registration slots will probably increase.”
It seemed absurd for a skill with a grand name like this to be limited to just ten items. My collection was a bizarre mix of survival necessities and the evidence of my own stupidity.
As I was staring at the shop window, lost in thought, something caught my eye.
“Huh?”
ᚠAvailable Balance: ₩1,893,339
I hadn’t bought anything, but my balance had dropped by one won.
“What the…?”
After a moment of thought, only one explanation made sense.
“The Dignity Maintenance skill must have an upkeep cost.”
It had to be spending my money to keep the electricity, gas, and water running. Even with me doing nothing, the refrigerator was on, and that was costing me.
“This is a huge problem.”
My expenses were piling up, but I had no income. The only way to make money was hunting goblins, and that was no longer an option.
“Damn goblin bastards.”
They were fast, and they were smart enough to relocate. After I’d brained a few of them with the dumbbell that first day, they had shrieked at me from a distance before disappearing. In the past week, I’d only managed to kill thirteen in total, most of them on that first day. Since then, I’d barely caught two.
“It’s too inefficient.”
That first day had been profitable. Buy a dumbbell for ₩16,990, kill two goblins, and get about ₩5,000 back. It had only worked because they were clustered right below my living room window. I couldn’t miss.
But now? I’d be lucky to hit one goblin out of ten throws. That meant spending nearly 170,000 won for a single kill. At this rate, the two million won I’d gotten from the Shardbeak wouldn’t last long.
And when it’s gone, it’s over.
Once the money ran out, I’d lose not just my food supply, but the Dignity Maintenance skill itself.
Damn it. Are there no decent targets left?
Before, I could always spot groups of goblins on the apartment’s walking paths below, but now they were a rare sight. I could spend a whole day watching the window and only see one or two groups, and of those, almost none came close enough to hit with a dumbbell.
At least the carcass brought a few of them around.
The remains of the Shardbeak had attracted goblins for a few days. But the body was too far away to use my summon-and-drop tactic. I had to throw the dumbbell myself, and my accuracy was abysmal.
And today, I haven’t seen a single one.
The situation was getting worse. It was as if word had spread among the goblins. For the past two days, the grounds had been completely empty.
I need a new plan. A breakthrough.
Like another Shardbeak helpfully flying into my window.
Thinking back, that had been a one-in-a-million stroke of luck.
If that hadn’t happened, I would’ve starved by now.
Without the massive EXP boost from that kill, I never would have unlocked the shop or the maintenance skill. I’d probably be chewing on uncooked rice right now.
Come on, where’s another stupid Shardbeak when you need one?
I gazed out at the sky. From my high-rise apartment, it was a vast, empty blue, clear without a single cloud.
“Nice weather, at least.”
And that’s when I saw it.
“……?”
A tiny black speck appeared against the blue, growing steadily. A dot, then a marble, then the size of a fist.
What is that?
Then recognition hit me. I had seen this exact shape just a week ago.
Shardbeak!
It was another one of the giant monster birds. An impossible scenario I had daydreamed about all week. I already knew exactly what to do.
“Aaaah! Over here! You overgrown chicken—!”
I threw open the living room window and waved my arms frantically, shouting at the top of my lungs to get its attention.
Please, please notice me!
I jumped and yelled, desperation fueling my every move.
“Here! Right here—! You damn monster!”
I was drawing its aggro. And it worked.
Got it!
Our eyes met across the distance. The creature banked, changing its course, and flew straight for me.
Yes!
Once the enraged Shardbeak slammed into my window, it would be over. Just like the last one, it would knock itself unconscious and fall to the ground. There were no goblins around to steal my kill this time, but that wasn’t a problem.
I can finish it off with the dumbbell myself.
The Shardbeak rocketed toward me at a terrifying speed. But unlike before, I felt no fear. My heart pounded with giddy anticipation.
If I can take that thing down, I’m guaranteed a level up.
This one looked even bigger than the last. That meant a higher level. More EXP, more money. It was the jackpot.
“Come on, you bastard!” I roared, taunting it with everything I had.
Then, just as the creature was about to smash into the building, a powerful gust of wind swept up the face of the apartment.
Fwoosh!
“Ugh!”
I flinched, shutting my eyes against the sudden blast of air. When I opened them a second later…
“……Huh?”
The creature had vanished.
What the hell…?
Where did it go?
A sudden, icy chill crawled up my spine.
No way…
Slowly, I tilted my head up.
My eyes met the Shardbeak’s. It was perched on the edge of the apartment roof, staring right down at me.