Chapter 81 Convenience Store 4 Don't Take Jobs You Shouldn't
You pick up the black plastic bag, and there are still all the soft-boiled eggs inside.
What exactly did this old man buy?
He neither paid nor took the goods. You were left standing there, completely bewildered, behind the counter.
After thinking it over, you cautiously put the bag of eggs away first.
Time ticked by, and the wind chimes rang softly once more. You looked up at the glass door and saw a figure slowly approaching.
The newcomer was a slender woman dressed in an old-fashioned yukata. She appeared healthy, with no problems with her bones or muscles, but it seemed that every step she took required a great deal of effort.
Her head was slightly lowered, her face hidden in the shadow of her yukata, making it impossible to see her expression. She was also carrying a slender bamboo cane in her hand, the tip of which was sharpened to a point and made a soft clattering sound as she walked.
A breeze picked up outside, and the heat from the convenience store hit her face, causing the hem of her yukata to flutter up, letting out damp steam. For a moment, it was as if she had no legs.
You swallowed hard, ready to pounce. But she didn't even glance at you, instead walking straight to the shelf area and stopping in front of the refrigerated display case in the far corner.
You try hard to stop yourself from staring at her, and pretend to tidy up the clutter on the cash register, but you can't help but glance in her direction out of the corner of your eye.
The woman stood in front of the shelf for a long time, her hand not reaching for any of the items, but simply looking down as if she were thinking.
What do you need? Hurry up and get it.
Standing there, head bowed so low it was almost touching the shelf, black hair damp and stuck to it—the sight was truly chilling.
Fortunately, she slowly twisted her waist and picked up a bottle of mineral water from the bottom of the refrigerator.
You immediately recognized it as the expired mineral water you'd always been concerned about. The label was blurry and yellowed, and there were water stains on the bottle; it didn't look like something suitable for drinking at all.
The woman carried the bottled water to the cashier and placed it on the counter in front of you. You glanced up and saw that her face was still hidden in the shadows, with only her sunken eye sockets and pale lips visible.
Unlike the old man from before, she was not lively; she simply stood there quietly, without any expression.
You still pretend to pick up the barcode scanner and scan the bottle's barcode.
Hurry up, will she disappear like that old man after we scan her?
This time, I couldn't grant your wish.
The woman simply stood there in silence.
Meanwhile, the barcode on your bottled water is blurry and the scanner hasn't responded after several attempts. You don't dare look up; sweat is seeping into your hair. You can only keep trying to scan.
Finally, the machine beeped, the barcode was read, and the amount was displayed on the screen.
So what should we do next?
You really don't know how to use it...
You don't need to worry about it; the cash register seems to have a soul, it starts operating on its own, a series of numbers are printed on the screen, and then it makes a "beep" sound.
You may not understand the words above, but you are very familiar with the sound of checking out at a convenience store.
Is this considered a successful transaction? ...But she didn't pay.
Suppressing your doubts, you took the printed receipt, placed it next to the bottle, and pushed it towards the woman.
She didn't reach out to pick it up, but instead lowered her head slightly, as if she were sizing you up.
Her gaze sends a chill down your spine, as if an invisible, icy tentacle is sliding across your skin.
A few seconds later, she finally looked away. Her hand moved up to the cashier as if it couldn't be raised, and she gathered the bottle in front of her, but didn't take it away. She just slowly turned around.
Her steps remained heavy, and as you watched the hem of her dress flutter, a sudden inspiration struck you—
Every step she took seemed to be met with resistance; if you looked closely, it was as if she wasn't even in the water.
When the woman reached the door, she suddenly stopped, turned her body slightly to the side, as if waiting for something.
You hold your breath, your hands gripping the edge of the cash register tightly, your knuckles turning white.
The automatic door remained open because of her presence, and cold air kept flowing into the store.
It's so cold.
The woman finally left. The wind chimes rang again, signaling that she was being seen off.
After the door closed, the convenience store fell silent again, but the chill in the air did not dissipate.
Your gaze moves downwards, and you see a small, dark patch of water left on the ground where the woman had stood when she left. It wasn't ordinary water, but a blackish liquid, the same one that had leaked from the old man's plastic bag, and it was still spreading outwards.
Tsk.
A mix of emotions welled up inside you, and all you could do was frantically grab a rag to at least wipe up the water stains.
But just as you approach, the water stain evaporates instantly, disappearing into thin air, just like before.
A strange smell filled the air—somewhat like sulfur, but also mixed with the fishy, sweet smell of rust.
You cover your nose, slowly back away, and return to the cashier. Looking at the water bottle that the woman had taken but not taken away, you're practically going crazy.
What exactly are they here to buy?
Running a shop alone, with a strange customer walking in every now and then, is still extremely torturous, even if you're mentally prepared.
Now it seems that only the small, open space behind the cashier gives you a sense of security.
You mechanically picked up the damp cloth, put away the bottled water, and wiped the cash register again and again.
Wait, what is this?
There seemed to be some fine scratches on the tabletop, as if it had been lightly scratched by a sharp fingernail.
Look closely at the light inside the store.
These scratches are shallow, but not entirely random. One, two…
You think about the actions of the two customers who have already come in, and then you think about the cash register...
Is this how they pay?
If that's the case, is your only function to scan a QR code?
A thought flashes through your mind, and your heart suddenly skips a beat.
Your hands search your body, making sure you are still whole, at least on the surface you are not missing anything.
Yes, if there's anything special about you, it's that you're different from everyone else here.
Isn't that something you often see in movies? A young man who goes to do odd jobs eventually discovers that what he's selling is his own body.
The wind chimes outside the door rang again, sounding like some enormous, breathing creature in the distance. You stood frozen, your palms clammy with cold sweat, knowing that each ring of the doorbell might mean another loss.
And you don't even know what you've lost or how to avoid it.
You try to calm yourself down, telling yourself that, most likely, as long as you remain silent, you can avoid losing a part of your body. Following the rules can avoid "punishment," which is a common theme in stories.
As long as you don't speak... You look at the monitor screen above your head. A middle-aged man is waiting outside the door, seemingly hesitant about whether to go in or not. After lingering for a while, he finally takes a step.
He was dressed very appropriately, with the style of a tasteful second male lead from an old Japanese drama decades ago.
He was holding a black umbrella, which he didn't close even after entering the house.
If you don't want to look at his face, you can only look at his feet.
Although it wasn't raining outside, his clothes and shoes seemed to be soaked, leaving water stains on the floor with every step he took.
These are just "normal" water stains; there's no filthy, sticky, black substance.
He wandered around the store several times, taking everything down to examine it, like a picky elementary school student, even flipping through fashion magazines.
In the end, he came empty-handed, but went straight to the oden machine and carefully examined the fish cakes and eggs floating inside.
He's actually looking at you through the reflection in the soup.
You noticed this because you were also observing each customer who came in through the reflections of various glass covers and metal edges—if you couldn't even peek, you would feel endless fear and unease about these customers who had no idea what they were doing.
But now, you've been caught red-handed.
You had no choice but to look away and lower your head again, pretending to organize the receipts at hand. The humming of the refrigerator seemed to be getting louder, even drowning out the bubbling of the oden.
The man raised his hand and reached for the oden machine.
As the only employee, you should proactively pick out what he wants, but… never mind, your job is just "cashier." Let the customers do whatever they want, as long as they don't harm you. This might be a crucial way to protect yourself.
Strictly follow what the store manager says!
You feel him approaching the checkout counter, his leather shoes making a soft squeaking sound as they stepped on the wet floor. Your eyes are fixed on the barcode scanner on the counter, your fingertips growing cold.
The eggs are in a bag, and the bottled water can be scanned by scanning a barcode, but how do I pay for the oden?
Suddenly, a wet hand reached out and placed a banknote and a bamboo skewer for oden on it.
You glanced at him; his face was unusually pale, as if something had drained all the color from his body.
Unlike the first vivid and annoying old man and the second eerie and quiet woman, he seems to be a "pseudo-human" in a neutral state.
The corners of his mouth were curved in a flat, gentle arc, not so much like a smile, but more like he was mimicking some kind of expression.
That's pretty scary.
Looking at the bamboo skewers he offered, you really couldn't understand what was going on. And banknotes—so they could use money to buy goods too?
You think for a moment, then put away his money and take a step back. The cash register is quiet, so you simply push the oden skewers back in his direction.
He stood there, his gaze fixed on your hand movements, the corners of his mouth gradually widening, appearing increasingly unnatural. He didn't pick up the bamboo skewer, nor did he say anything more. Instead, he quietly turned and dragged his wet feet towards the door.
As he pushed open the door and walked out, the wind chimes rang softly once, and then everything returned to silence.
There were no extra scratches on the checkout counter this time, just a few thin, long hairs floating on a puddle of water, as if... they had just been pulled off somewhere.
You gritted your teeth and swept these "traces" into the trash can.
You know these water stains and long hairs are no ordinary trash; they seem to be reminding you of something, but you... but you know nothing about it.
The situation was so calm and chilling. You had never felt so helpless, never felt danger lurking everywhere, yet you were surrounded by peace.
Something's not right, but you have absolutely no information.
You feel a chill run through you, and you look around the neatly arranged shelves in the store with a blank stare.
The shelves seemed different from before—or rather, they looked somewhat blurry, as if your vision had suddenly gone out of focus.
You rub your eyes, trying to see clearly again.
Huh? Have some of the items on the shelf been moved?
Especially the row of bottled water. Just now you noticed that the bottles at the bottom were blurry and yellowed, but now, those expired bottles of mineral water are gone, leaving only empty shelves.
A strange humidity permeated the air, mixed with the steam from the oden, making you wonder: is something quietly changing in the convenience store, or have you yourself become part of some kind of "exchange"?
It's not through loss, but through some kind of subtle, gradual change.
The wind chimes rang again, and your heart was in your throat.
The sound of the wind chimes lingers, connecting all your negative memories.
You struggle and pound your head, only to realize that you were just hallucinating.
The voice of "Welcome!" rang out, and the glass door slowly slid open, allowing the fourth "guest" to step into the store.
This was a young woman, tall and thin, with messy hair that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes seemed unfocused, but that wasn't the strangest thing about her.
—The lines of her eyebrows, eyes, mouth, and jawbone are actually parallel.
Her steps were light but unsteady. When she entered the store, her arms hung naturally at her sides, her fingertips twitching slightly in the air. She didn't go straight to the shelves, but instead circled the convenience store twice, her steps sometimes fast and sometimes slow, sometimes standing on tiptoe, sometimes stopping abruptly.
Inertia seemed to have no effect on her, as if there were invisible ropes pulling her from behind, resisting the force generated by her every move.
You involuntarily held your breath, not daring to make a move.
Why are there so many receipts on this table? It's impossible to count them all... You've flipped through those few receipts so many times the edges are almost curled up.
As for this customer—compared to the previous two, she exuded a more obvious aura of danger.
She searched for a while, then suddenly turned her head towards you, her smile widening slightly, her eyes narrowing, and her chin tilting upwards a few degrees.
She approached step by step, her fingers rhythmically tapping her thigh, making a soft "tap-tap" sound.
“You have what I need,” she said, her voice low and muffled.
Hearing this sentence makes your scalp tingle, and your vision seems to explode like fireworks.
Do not respond, and do not speak, no matter what she is referring to.
You don't speak, you don't look at her. Your index finger and thumb are rubbing the receipt.
The young woman stands in front of the cashier; her patience is not enough to withstand your indifference.
Not long after, she pointed to you with her hand, her fingertips tracing the edge of the counter.
The sound was so jarring that you frowned for a moment. She quickly noticed this, and soon she was scratching the glass with her long fingernails.
This person is actually provoking you, and using such an unbearable method to force you to pay attention to her.
Hold on, hold on.
You encouraged yourself in your heart.
"Do you think you can escape this by not speaking?" She suddenly moved closer, her voice lower and more threatening than before.
Her neck twisted 180 degrees—from top to bottom—and stretched horizontally across the counter toward you.
“Now, you’re watching me,” she laughed. “What? You haven’t been busy either.”
Caught off guard by her sudden move, you naturally couldn't escape.
Imagine a human head sticking out horizontally from under your head, just to see what you're doing—it's like a ghost story within a ghost story.
what to do?
Your mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. Since she was trying to force you to speak, remaining silent was key. By not responding, you might be able to buy time and find a way to deal with her.
However, even though you can remain silent, this person is trying to scare you in various ways, and her fingers are constantly drawing all sorts of curved lines on the counter. Who can guarantee that these actions won't have any impact on you?
How can I get rid of her?
You're going crazy. You don't have time to think about the risks of this cashier anymore; you just want to get her out of there as soon as possible, even if it's just to get another customer to come in, so that you don't have to stay in this limbo, unable to find peace.
Think about it carefully, think about it again carefully...
The only rule you can be sure of in this convenience store is that not speaking is effective.
If you haven't found any other useful clues here, then... maybe try looking for commonalities among these guests?
If we had to say something, considering the background of this hot spring area, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say that they were all drowned water ghosts or something similar.
But even if it's a water ghost, so what?
Their circumstances, ages, genders, and styles are all different.
Differences… Similarities…
They were all customers, customers who came here not knowing what to choose...
Oh, right.
Never mind.
You crouch down, pick up the soft-boiled egg, and push it towards the woman. Is this what she wanted?
The woman's eyes flickered, but she did not take the hot spring egg.
You picked up the oden again, and she neither refused nor accepted it.
"I want you..." she giggled.
Your eyes widened suddenly.
She wasn't deliberately picking a fight or simply trying to attack you, was she?
The store can function without the cash register, and these customers don't seem to be stealing anything. The store doesn't really need you. Your initial thought process was partially correct; why didn't you consider this?
No wonder you know nothing about this place. What is there to know about a commodity waiting to be bought?
Onsen egg, oden, mineral water, and then you…
How can a product save itself? Unless it fails to appeal to customers, or ceases to be a product altogether.
Why are these things considered commodities?
No, rather...
What do you have in common with these products?
Seeing this woman still diligently carving her marks, you know your time is running out.
You quickly opened the bag of soft-boiled eggs, cracked one open, and saw that the soft-boiled eggs you had eaten during your rest earlier, which were perfectly fine, were now all rotten and spoiled. Looking at the mineral water, which was originally murky and unsightly expired water, the label and bottle remained unchanged, but the water inside was now clear and transparent.
Good things turn bad, and bad things turn good...
No, things that were chosen and taken away by "bad guys" are naturally good. What's left here now are the "remnants" after they were chosen.
They didn't leave empty-handed; they simply took what they wanted with them!
These customers, even if they are not monsters, are not living people. What they take away is the vitality of an item, or at least, they change some substance within it.
The customer left behind a spoiled onsen egg and fresh water, and when the manager treated you to some sweets, it proved that the onsen egg was "fine"...
What if you had eaten the wrong food? Would you not have been chosen to be here, ostensibly as a "cashier" but actually a gentle invitation to sell your wares?
food…
You grab the soft-boiled egg, peel off the shell in no time, and pop it into your mouth.
The woman looked at you strangely, not understanding what you were doing.
You don't know if what you're doing will actually work, but you have no other choice.
You don't even chew it; your throat is immediately blocked by the soft-boiled egg, making it almost impossible to breathe, bringing waves of intense nausea.
The other person's gaze was already burning as they approached. If you didn't act immediately, you knew your fate would be like those rotten hot spring eggs, leaving only their shells behind.
Next to the counter, the snacks and drinks on the shelves, things you previously thought you shouldn't touch, have now all become your targets.
You rush to the shelf, as if clinging to a last glimmer of hope, grabbing at the foods you've categorized as "forbidden." The plastic packaging rubs against your palms; you barely feel what you're doing, mechanically tearing open the packaging and shoving the unknown foods into your mouth.
The texture is sticky, hard to swallow, and even has a strange, almost rotten taste.
The smell made your stomach churn, but you forced yourself to swallow it anyway. You realized this was the quickest way to break the rules.
The biggest similarity between you and the previously selected items is that you do not belong here. What the other party wants is a complete "you" who does not belong here. When you voluntarily swallow these foods that have been judged not to be eaten, can you still be considered not to belong here?
The female customer stood a short distance away, her face gradually shifting from composure and smugness to anger and anxiety. Her lips twitched, her eyes reddened slightly, and her entire facial expression seemed to crumble in an instant. Her fingers rose slightly, the fingertips trembling in the air; it seemed she had realized that her wonderful shopping desire had been completely ruined.
"You, you actually—" Her voice suddenly became hoarse and shrill, like broken glass scraping against metal, sending chills down one's spine.
You dared not respond, but gritted your teeth and continued to swallow the last piece of unidentified food.
You hold your breath, afraid that with each breath, even with the soft-boiled egg in your way, you might actually swallow all of this stuff.
Only one thought remained in my mind: End all of this as soon as possible!
The female customer turned around angrily and strode towards the door. The automatic door clicked heavily as she passed, followed by a tinkling of wind chimes as she left.
You clutched your throat, your gaze drifting to the trash can not far away. Almost without hesitation, you opened your mouth and vomited out the food that had been forced down your throat.
Onsen eggs effectively block the passageways for unpleasant food to go down, and also make it easier for you to make sure you've vomited everything up.
You stood up, wiped the grime from the corner of your mouth, and turned to look inside the store. The things that had terrified you were gone, and the lights gradually returned to their normal brightness.
Outside, dark clouds covered the sky as evening approached.
"Oh dear, you're still here. You're really dedicated." The store manager came in through the back door, still with a sweet smile, but you could hear the anger in her forced smile.
You couldn't be bothered to deal with her anymore; you just wanted to leave as soon as possible.
“This is outside my job duties. It’s very rude of you to treat me like this. I don’t want to work here anymore, and I don’t need the salary. I just want to leave immediately.” You retorted, mimicking the same line she used to coerce you into staying at the cashier.
The store manager's expression changed drastically.
You came here to work, and because you're a Korean actress, you haven't even signed a formal contract. Now that you're leaving, she can't refuse your reason.
"I'm really satisfied with you. If you need to work again in the future, come back. The salary I offer isn't low." The shop manager smiled, still trying to persuade you to stay.
You bowed and rattled off all the universal formulas you'd collected so far, like "red bean paste, private Marseille," and ran out without looking back.
Let's hurry and leave this lifeless, man-eating place. We need to get back before dark, if possible.
It's so cold! Is it snowing?
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Author's note: Good evening!
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