Chapter 79 Convenience Store 2 Snacks
The warehouse was already crowded and cramped, so even the slightest noise seemed unusually loud.
You look at the warehouse's metal door; it's completely still. Was it just a gust of wind?
You deliberately lighten your steps and approach slowly.
Perhaps it was because I was tense again, but the hot spring water smelled stronger and a bit pungent.
You hold your breath, your eyes fixed on the crack in the door. Light streams in through the narrow gap, casting a long, thin shadow.
Then came another very short sound.
Something is indeed waiting for you outside the door. Look at the two darkened areas through the crack in the door.
You clench your fist, your mind racing through all the possibilities—
Was it the store manager looking for you? If so, why didn't she just knock on the door instead of standing outside silently? Was it one of the other employees? Why would they be so secretive? Isn't this store short-staffed? You yourself saw only one cashier working. Even if there are no customers, they wouldn't be so idle as to stand outside and scare you. What good would that do them, and what bad would it do you?
—Or is it... something that shouldn't exist?
Here we go again…
You wearily rub your forehead.
However, this makes you realize something else: the warehouse door isn't very thick.
It's just a thin, one-piece metal sheet that makes a whooshing sound when touched. Logically, you should be able to hear the hum of the compressor in the beverage dispenser outside the convenience store, the electrical hum of the refrigerated display case, or even the occasional ticking of the checkout machine.
But at that moment, there was no sound outside.
You were so engrossed in slacking off while sorting inventory that you thought the world was finally at peace.
It only now do I realize that this place is so quiet it doesn't seem like a convenience store that's actually open for business.
Should we open the door and take a look?
The smell of sulfur is getting stronger.
Your heart races, and your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob, intending to open it a crack, at least to peek outside—
Let's crouch down and look through the gap at the bottom.
—Don't make eye contact with anything strange.
It was stuck in a tangled mess, neither horizontal nor vertical, when it clicked.
The doorknob moved by itself.
You froze instantly, your half-squatting position halted, and cold sweat poured down your back.
The door was pressed open slightly, allowing stronger light from outside to stream in, and the narrow slit gradually widened into a triangle.
You reacted quickly, tiptoeing back behind the container and peering out through the gaps in the cardboard boxes.
Then, the door opened naturally.
The person standing outside is the store manager.
The tension in my nerves eased for only a moment, but then an even stronger sense of unease rose from the bottom of my heart.
If it's the store manager, it feels even stranger! Even if we haven't seen any rules or anything yet, the store manager's identity already means that she is a person with power here. If she were to do something to you unexpectedly, you would really have no way to complain.
The short shopkeeper stood in the doorway, backlit by the bright light, but thankfully the indoor bulbs prevented her face from being completely shrouded in darkness. She didn't call your name; she just stood there, head slightly tilted, her round eyes darting around as if searching for you.
Should we step forward?
You sensed the tension in the air, fiddling with the beverage bottles you had already placed, making a slight noise, and put on an "unexpected" expression: "Ah, the manager's here." Slow, halting neon-toned language.
You can still speak these few sentences fluently, but pretending to be completely unclear might have a surprising effect.
"Oh my gosh~ (^ v^) You're finally out!"
Her voice was still light and lovely, full of her usual energy, as if she had come to find you without any fuss, as if she had been waiting outside the door for a long time, not knowing what she was doing.
You stand frozen in place, your mind a jumble of confusion.
Her expression remained unchanged; the corners of her mouth were upturned, and her eyes held a mischievous smile.
"Sorry, I forgot your Japanese isn't very good. I can speak Japanese too, but I'm not very good at it, please forgive me." The shop manager changed languages. "You look a little pale~ Are you too tired?" She blinked and spoke gently.
You scratch your head, wave your hand, and act like a shy, reserved, bookish international student: "I'm fine, not too tired. Thanks for your concern. By the way, did you come to see me?"
"Hmm~" She nodded with a smile, "You've been working so hard tidying up for so long, you must be hungry, right? I just prepared some snacks, and I was wondering if you'd like to have some."
As she spoke, she gently stepped aside and gestured invitingly towards the inside of the convenience store.
You glanced at the convenience store outside the warehouse; the shelves were neatly arranged, the beverage cabinets emitted a soft white light, and the checkout machine screens were quietly lit, everything perfectly orderly.
It's just a bit... well, how should I put it, too neat, like a computer interface with a sticker on it.
—Your brain has been damaged by that recently ended time-travel trip. You know very well that this isn't just another fake world.
You slowly raised your head and looked into the store manager's eyes.
Her eyes were clear, and her smile was warm, just like the kind of friendly store manager you'd encounter in any convenience store.
You suspect something is amiss.
You take a half step back, your hand instinctively reaching for your phone to check the time, but just as you look down, the store manager says lightly:
"What? Are you afraid I'll poison you?"
She said it with a smile, as if it were just a joke.
Yet a chill creeps up your spine to the back of your head, and you feel the danger level is at its maximum.
"Ah, this..." You still managed a somewhat incoherent response, preventing her words from falling to the ground.
"Just kidding~" She blinked gently, her smile undiminished.
Your throat tightened slightly, and you tried to keep your expression natural: "Uh...no, no need, I'm not that hungry..."
Your stomach rumbled rather uncooperatively.
"Haha, you lying cat." The shopkeeper patted you on the shoulder and burst into laughter.
"Okay, don't be shy, the desserts are freshly made!" She takes your hand. "I prepared them especially for you."
Her eyes were filled with expectation, and her tone even carried a hint of coquetry, without a trace of malice.
But that's precisely why you feel even more uneasy.
How should you refuse? If she's really just a store manager, a direct refusal would seem odd. But what if she... isn't?
You feel that the woman in front of you has a slightly different vibe than when you first met her, although you haven't quite figured out what's wrong.
They all speak with the same tone of voice and use the same gestures and expressions...
“…Okay.” You try to make your tone sound relaxed and not forced. “Then try a little.”
"Great!" She smiled with satisfaction and clapped her hands lightly. "Then come on over!"
She turned and walked toward the convenience store's rest area.
You take a deep breath and reach out to press the spot where she just slapped you; your entire arm is trembling uncontrollably.
Stay calm. Quickly catch up with her.
As you walk, you can't help but speculate in your mind.
Why was the manager standing outside the door? Did she really just come to call you for snacks, or... was she waiting for you to open the door?
You gritted your teeth and followed her to the convenience store's rest area.
—You have a vague feeling that what's coming next won't be as simple as just eating snacks.
You sit at the table, the air around you filled with the warm aroma of food, the convenience store lights bright but somewhat dazzling.
The food on the table is exquisite and tempting, and the manager and the only cashier are sitting around it, smiling at you.
Under such scrutiny, you have no choice but to pick up your chopsticks. The rough bamboo chopsticks become sticky and damp from your sweaty hands. You laugh and prolong the time you spend choosing food, wanting to see what they will take to eat.
But these two just waited quietly for you to start eating.
You maintain a calm exterior, but your inner vigilance is at its highest.
This wasn't a meal at all; it was a "screening" process.
These two people are judges.
You must choose the right food and eat what you "should eat" in order to survive this "game".
Your gaze sweeps over the steaming pot of oden, the clear broth glistening with a few drops of oil, and daikon radish, bamboo shoots, and fish balls neatly arranged.
However, you notice a layer of extremely fine powder floating on the surface of the soup, almost transparent, with a subtle sheen under the light.
The lingering scent of the hot springs reminds you of something—
"Sulfur crystals" that have settled in hot spring water.
You've probably been to some old-fashioned natural hot spring resorts, the kind that get mocked online for being "bacterial baths," where there's sediment everywhere, floating on the surface and making the whole pool look a bit dirty.
Appropriate amounts of compounds are good for the skin, but if the content is too high, prolonged soaking can cause the skin to become abnormally smooth, or even produce an "over-softening" effect.
This peculiar physical phenomenon, once connected to the pot of soup in front of them…
Besides, not all the minerals in hot spring water are edible.
An absurd thought flashes through your mind—if you drink this soup, will it cause "undetectable changes" in your body?
You skipped oden without hesitation.
He looked up and gave an awkward laugh.
As for the next one.
The eel rice is dark in color, with a rich sauce, and the eel skin has a slight sheen under the light, making it look very delicious.
But as you stare at that piece of eel, you notice something amiss—
Its fish skin was twitching slightly.
You blinked, your heart skipped a beat, and you thought you were seeing things.
But when you look at it more closely, the eel's skin remains still, without any abnormality.
You said in broken Japanese, "Okay, I'll get it. It's on me."
Without saying a word, he stood up and walked very eagerly toward the shelf, pretending to choose a drink, but actually glancing at the shelf that sold these bento boxes.
A small promotional slogan is printed in the corner of the eel rice packaging:
"We use eels raised in local hot springs, which have delicious meat and a smooth texture."
Hot spring aquaculture?
Another hot spring?
After taking a beverage labeled "Produced by Taipei County University," you stammered as you tried to explain that you would also be involved in the research and development of related food products, recommending it to the two people present.
They didn't say anything and happily accepted your statement, while you had already mentally ruled out eel rice.
Next up is fried chicken rice.
The outer layer was fried to a golden brown, looking crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.
But you didn't miss any detail: the oil on the surface of the fried chicken was almost completely absorbed.
Generally speaking, freshly fried chicken will have a slightly oily sheen on the skin, and it will retain some oil even after it cools down.
The fried chicken in front of me was so dry it looked like it had been weathered, with several very fine cracks on the skin, like dried meat that had been exposed to heat for a long time.
The first two types of food are both related to hot springs, so you naturally connect them to this scene as well—
Soaking in hot springs for a long time can cause the skin to lose moisture quickly, resulting in lines and wrinkles on the surface.
If fried chicken is also soaked in hot spring water for a long time, or if it is some kind of metaphor, will a similar "over-evaporation" phenomenon also occur?
You smiled and said, "You two are seniors, please eat first."
Then, using his own chopsticks, he quickly poked the surface of the fried chicken while picking it up, confirming that it was harder and crispier than ordinary fried chicken. Only then did he stand up and, with great awareness, serve the meat and vegetables to them.
In the end, only the onsen tamago (hot spring egg) was left.
Foods that are clearly related to hot springs often seem the most normal.
The egg whites were set just right, and the yolks were a flowing golden color, with nothing unusual about them.
However, since it's cooked through the eggshell, there shouldn't be any problem.
You picked up a small piece of egg white, put it in your mouth, chewed it, and found that it tasted normal, with no strange smell or texture.
Then, you picked up the miso soup and took a small sip.
The warm broth slid smoothly down my throat, carrying a subtle aroma of beans and the umami flavor of seaweed—everything seemed normal.
You put down the soup bowl, suppressing the tension in your heart.
You made the right bet.
The food you chose is "acceptable".
Your series of actions were very smooth. The store manager only gave you a few deep looks before turning back to his kind and energetic expression and enjoying his snack.
It seems you've already "passed" this food choice.
But you always feel that simply discovering food problems is not the end.
The soft-boiled egg and miso soup you ate are "foods that ordinary people should eat," but does that mean you also have to abide by some kind of "unwritten rule"?
The food you avoided hides the secrets of the entire hot spring town. Does this mean you inadvertently avoided a process of "assimilation"?
The "shop assistants" didn't suspect you, but did they really not notice your actions?
You take a deep breath, look up, and see the store manager smiling at you with gentle eyes.
"How is it? It's delicious, isn't it?"
You nodded, smiled in response, and continued to play the role of a "normal working person."
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Author's note: Good evening!
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