Mastore 98 - Dumpster

Magic Realm Convenience Store – Ch. 98

Business isn’t going well because the car is too big (2)

During the week we didn’t see each other, the elder did quite a lot. Besides baduk and gateball, he'd gone to see a movie and even went hiking.

“What kind of movie did you watch? I like movies too.”

“It was a war movie. A film about an old war era….”

“What was it about?”

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure. My friends turned off the projector partway through. Saying, ‘This isn’t how when we were fighting the war—”

Anyway, he spent his days peacefully, and yesterday afternoon, he went to an indoor fishing spot with his friends. While the others were enthusiastically reeling in fish every five minutes, the elder ended the day empty-handed.

“When I asked them for tips, they told me to clear my mind and become one with the fishing rod. To maintain inner peace, they said."

"They're all retired too, right?"

“Yes. I’m the only one still working.”

The elder had once mentioned something about his past. A soldier who served in special forces during the war.

Given that the war happened at least several decades ago, one could deduce that the elderly gentleman must be well over 80 years old. That also means he’s been receiving his national pension for 15 years.

Including whatever pension he might be getting for his military service, it’s not like he’s short on retirement funds, yet he’s still working. Out of all his friends, he’s the only one.

I wonder why. While it's possible the elderly gentleman needs money for other reasons... a completely different reason occurs to me.

“Elder, you said you played baduk, gateball, and even went fishing….”

“Yes. And watching movies too.”

“Are you enjoying them?”

These four hobbies share something in common: none of them require much physical movement. Fishing is a bit debatable, but since he went to an indoor fishing spot, that’s not much of an exception.

And I simply cannot imagine this elderly gentleman sitting still to play baduk or fish. No, this is someone who once lifted 1: 1.200 kilograms ratio and knocked out an orc’s teeth with a single punch. Baduk? Gateball?

The same goes for his speech. He usually speaks every word with vigor, but ever since we started talking, there’s no energy in his voice.

He's unsatisfied with his situation. Accepting the twilight years as they come and preparing for old age. It might be overstepping for someone who hasn’t even hit 30 yet to say something like this, but…

But when it shows this clearly, what can I do? Even the elder an tried to deny it at first.

“No, it was fun. They were all new experiences I’d never had before—”

After speaking for a while, he met my eyes and stopped talking. He conceded a moment later.

"I suppose I was showing it rather obviously."

“I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, not at all. I didn’t feel uncomfortable. Rather....”

He trailed off and fell into thought for a moment before bringing up something completely different.

“…Actually, people around me keep telling me to quit my chauffeur work. Saying isn't it time to stop working, that I should take care of my health.”

Makes sense. If my grandparents said they were doing designated driving in their eighties, I’d try to stop them too.

"When I try to find other work, or plan hiking trips or travel, they discourage me, saying what business does someone my age have doing such things alone."

“And you’ve never forced yourself to try it anyway?”

“Yes. I can’t make my family worry just because of my own selfishness. But still…”

The elder explained that whenever he tries to do anything, they discourage him with concerns about his joints or dementia, so he's barely tried any physical activities.

The only things he was allowed to do were the hobbies he mentioned earlier, like playing baduk. And his thoughts on those? Not his taste. After saying this, the old man added jokingly.

"I'm not done yet, you know.”

His voice was smiling, but his eyes weren’t.

“I still believe there’s so much I can do in this world."

Strength returns to his tone. This seemed to be what he truly wanted to say. Even if his skin had sagged and his hair had faded, the fire inside him was still burning strong.

“…Of course, what the world might think of someone like me is another matter entirely.”

He finished with a self-deprecating laugh, then went quiet for a moment before pulled his hat down low and adding as if talking to himself.

"My, perhaps because it's nighttime, this old man keeps saying strange things."

It sounded like he wanted me to forget the whole thing. Personally, I felt like if he was letting these thoughts slip out, he might as well just let it all out properly…

But if he doesn’t want to, what can I do? I changed the subject right away.

"Then with your children, is your relationship... um... distant?"

“No, we get along fine. A few days ago, I even dropped my granddaughter off at kindergarten."

"At kindergarten?"

“Yes. Come to think of it, have I shown you a picture of my granddaughter?”

I was about to say no when he’d already half-pulled his wallet out from his coat. Guess even a former special forces soldier can’t resist bragging about his granddaughter.

"Would you believe my granddaughter, at kindergarten, is already learning the multiplication table―”

I never got to hear how far she’d gotten, because a customer came in.

“Boss, almonds... where are the almonds?”

Glancing over to the entrance, I saw a feline-like kobold clinging to the door handle, swaying on his feet. I stood up and asked,

"Which almonds are you looking for? We have several kinds."

“Mint chocolate flavored almonds....”

“We don’t have those here.”

When I told him that, the kobold muttered, ‘Right? I knew it, those bastards were messing with me,’ and stumbled back out. lost a bet with his friends?

The street outside where the kobold left was now teeming with pedestrians. Looks like that damn soccer match had finally ended. Time to get back to work.

“Elder, I should probably return to the counter. It's about time for the rush."

"Of course. Is there... perhaps a designated smoking area nearby?"

“Not really, but most people go smoke in that alley over there.”

You'll see from all the cigarette butts on the ground. After I answered, he took off his hat, gave a little bow, and headed out.

I went back to the counter. And the moment I returned, as if they had been waiting for this exact timing, customers started pouring in.

“Ah, fuck. Of all the situations, that prosthetic leg bastard had to botch the shot at that exact moment?"

“It’s ‘cause he’s short. His striking foot is the other one too.”

“Striking foot, my ass. If he’s getting paid that much, he should at least be able to use chopsticks with his feet if he has to. Why the hell does the coach even put him in?”

“He’s good at shielding. ‘Cause he’s a dwarf.”

It's all soccer discussion. I don't know much about striking foot and shielding, but after listening to the rest, I can tell that the dwarf football player is a selfless striker.

Also, the losing team seemed to be way more popular. The mood is so cold that I feel like I might get a soccer kick if I bring up the wrong thing about the match.

Still, work had to be done, so I kept glancing outside after serving each customer.

It was because of the van parked out front. It was on the curb right in front of the store, so I figured whoever owned it might pop in at some point. Either to buy cigarettes or grab some snacks for round two of their drinking....

If not, well, nothing I can do about it.

About twenty minutes passed with me quietly working, and then a group of orcs walked in. Every single one of them was built like a tank, wearing either tank tops, running shirts, or just plain T-shirts, and they all had big grins on their faces.

“I fucking told you, dumbasses! The underdogs had it today! These guys may be trash, but when they pull through, they fucking pull through!”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. Keep yapping and I’ll knock your damn molars out.”

"Screw off. I won the most so I'm buying today, so shut up and listen. Got it?"

From the looks of it, these orcs had bet on the game and made a nice profit. I’m not sure why they felt the need to brag about it in the store, but...

My job's done once I sell them their stuff and send them off. I was about to ring up their beer cans when some particularly ear-catching words spilled from several orcs' mouths.

“But whose place are we drinking at? Who lives the closest?”

“This guy. It’s like three minutes from here?”

“Nah, I can’t fit a dozen drunk pigs into my place. Why don't we just drink at the park?"

"We can't drive there, idiot. We're all drunk."

"But is it okay to leave the car parked like that? I think there was a parking enforcement CCTV—"

“Come on, man. You think the cops are gonna be out writing tickets on a weekend night? Those lazy bums?”

Oh, damn. Could these yangbans be the ones who parked that van out there?

The way they kept glancing at the door every time the word van came up pretty much confirmed it. That old saying about criminals returning to the scene really isn't wrong, huh?

It's good that they showed up. It's good, but now that I’m face-to-face with them, it’s hard to speak up. Hard to interrupt when they're all talking so cheerfully among themselves, plus there's quite the physical difference...

Most of all, what unsettled me the most was that these orcs looked exactly like thugs.

I didn’t notice when I was just focused on selling them stuff, but now that I’m really looking, they all have the most insane appearances. One has gold plating on his protruding molars, another has a metal cuff piercing his nose—

“How much, Boss?”

“... Ah. Altogether it’s 60,000 won―”

"Not gonna put it in bags? How are we supposed to carry all this?"

I almost told them the eco-friendly bag cost 100 won, but I decided to hold back. This might be my chance to bring it up.

“I’ll bag it for you. You bought quite a bit, so I’ll give you the bag at no extra charge.”

“Well, of course you should. I was this close to asking if you had no sense.”

What, they think we dig money out of the ground or something? Still, the fact that they bothered to respond at all meant they weren’t completely impossible to talk to. I took a deep breath and continued.

"I was being inconsiderate, sorry about that. But, Customer."

"Got something to say?"

"No, nothing much, but are you perhaps the owner of that van outside?"

“What about it?”

“It’s blocking the view of the store from outside. People can’t really see the store.”

“So?”

Why the hell is this guy’s sentences getting shorter? Don’t tell me…

"...I'd really appreciate if you could move the van to the side."

“And how exactly are you gonna show that appreciation?”

Yeah. No way was right.

I misread the room. These guys aren’t actually easygoing. They're only buddy-buddy among themselves.

Now this two-meter-tall orc is looking down at me like he has no intention of talking it out. It's a look of complete incomprehension, like 'why are you holding me up with this nonsense when I need to go drink?'

As I scrambled to find the right words in my head, the orc let out a chuckle and answered,

“Can’t move it. Been drinking.”

“....”

"Drunk driving's not good, right?"



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