The date to pay three months’ rent was fast approaching. This wasn’t the time to worry about what was happening in the game. My bank account balance was genuinely scraping the bottom.
“Please, have a seat.”
Up until now, I’d only dealt with clients looking to sign housing contracts. This was the first time someone had come looking for a shop space. And when it came to commercial leases, you could charge a separate brokerage fee for the key money—meaning I could pocket a decent sum. It was a rare, golden opportunity.
The important thing was whether there was a space available.
“You’re looking for a first-floor unit, right?”
“Yes. But the rent along the main road is too high… I was wondering if there’s anything in the back alley instead.”
“Hmm…”
There was one.
On the first floor of that rude brat’s building across the street, someone had just put a shop up for lease.
By sheer coincidence, the market price of that space was almost exactly what this client was looking for. After running the numbers in my head, I told him to wait and called the shop owner across the street. The place was open—he waved at me, signaling for us to come over and take a look.
“Would you like to see it in person?”
“Oh, yes. That’d be great.”
I stepped out of the office with the client. Sure enough, that black sports car was parked right in front again. But this wasn’t the time to nitpick. I guided the client into the first-floor unit across the street and showed him around.
“Hmm. The square footage is good. The rent too. When are you planning to vacate?”
“As soon as possible. The landlord’s already told me that if I want to leave quickly, I can.”
This felt promising. Everything was lining up so neatly. My heart pounded as if signing the contract was just around the corner. Listening to the two of them discuss rent, I couldn’t help but smile.
“So, you’re planning to open a clothing store?”
“No. I’m planning to open a tteokbokki franchise.”
The shop owner, overhearing our conversation, tilted his head with an uncertain expression. Something about it suddenly felt… off.
“Is there a problem?”
“Well… just yesterday someone came by wanting to open a sandwich shop. But the landlord said he doesn’t want food businesses on the first floor. He lives upstairs, you see.”
“Haha, it’s not like it’s a barbecue place… It’s just sandwiches…”
“Exactly.”
The shop owner sighed, clearly troubled. The sooner he got out, the less rent he’d have to keep paying. You could see the desperation in his face.
“I’ll speak to the landlord directly.”
“…It might be better if you don’t…”
The way he reached out to stop me gave me a rough idea of the landlord’s personality. Probably stubborn, unreasonable—someone who didn’t listen.
Since it required the landlord’s approval anyway, I just took down his contact information and sent the client off for the time being.
The Elf Breath Ring isn’t the problem right now… This month’s rent depends on this.
Staring at the landlord’s number, I steadied myself and called him from the office phone. After a few rings, the call was rejected.
Huh?
Well, it was an unknown number. That was understandable. I called again.
No answer.
This time, I used my cell phone—the secondary business number I’d applied for when I opened the real estate office. I didn’t want to expose my long-used personal number for business.
Please, just pick up.
[…Hello.]
His voice was low and resonant, like it was echoing from inside a cave. He sounded half-awake. It matched perfectly with the brief glimpse I’d had of him before—gloomy, unsettling, that unpleasant baritone.
“Hello. This is the real estate office across the street. I’m calling regarding the first-floor lease. Do you have a moment?”
[…]
“If now’s not a good time, I can call back later—”
[That won’t be necessary.]
Huh?
And then the line went dead.
His tone carried not the slightest hint of regret. We were talking about leasing a shop, for crying out loud.
These days, even after a commercial lease ends, tenants can recover their lease premium through a Lease Premium Protection Credit Insurance. If a landlord unjustifiably blocks a new tenant and prevents the lease premium transfer, they can even face a lawsuit from the guarantee company. As long as the lease continues, it’s fine—but if the shop isn’t doing well, replacing it with a new tenant is better for the landlord too.
I sat there for about five minutes, my legs trembling anxiously, before calling again.
This time, he didn’t pick up at all.
Ignore the office phone, ignore the mobile—what was I supposed to do?
“Ah! This rude little bastard.”
He looked much younger than me. Guys like him, born with silver spoons in their mouths, living in comfort thanks to their parents—rotten from the start.
If he’d ever struggled a day in his life, maybe he’d understand the desperation of ordinary people like us.
Maybe that’s why people grow their presence inside games. Leveling up becomes a way to vent the humiliation and frustration you feel in this unfair reality.
But honestly, whether in real life or in the game, I was pathetic either way. I should’ve just stuck with my office job. Instead, I got swayed by some pervert… Though if I faced him directly, I might not even dare open my mouth.
Sure, there was escapism involved. But I’d also had ambition—to make it big in Seoul. When people said, “Even if it’s dirty work, being a salaried employee is the happiest life,” I’d scoffed. When I hung up the real estate signboard and started hearing “Boss” this and “Boss” that, I’d thought my life was finally turning around.
I even bragged that I’d open a branch in Yeouido someday…
Now, with the next few months looking bleak, I was desperate for the commission from that lease deal across the street. If I could just secure that, I’d be financially comfortable for a while.
I have to meet him somehow.
I picked up my phone again and sent a message.
***
“……”
Right now, that landlord bastard is sitting inside my office.
When I first saw him, he’d been wearing a hood. Now his hair was roughly pushed back, legs crossed on the sofa. And how did I manage to get him here?
I lied that his car had been scratched.
“Um… I’m really sorry to have called you here like this…”
“You’ve really outdone yourself.”
Every time his tightly pressed lips parted, it felt like he was holding dry ice in his mouth—like frost formed in the air around him. His vocal cords weren’t some tiny tunnel; even his quiet voice resonated deeply, filling the entire office.
There wasn’t a single thing about him that felt remotely likable. It was almost impressive how thoroughly unappealing he was.
Like a mute who’d swallowed honey, I kept my mouth shut and slid a drink toward him with both hands.
He lifted his chin stiffly, glanced down with only his eyes, then lazily stretched out his long arm and snatched the bottle.
Maybe it was because he was tall, but his arms were long. His hands were huge. It was one of those glass bottled drinks from the convenience store—the kind you buy in a 2+1 deal—but in his hand, it looked like one of those tiny tonic bottles from a pharmacy.
He downed it in one shot and slammed it onto the table with a sharp thud.
“About the first floor across the street. What about turning it into a tteokbokki—”
“No.”
“It won’t smell that bad. It’s a franchise, so it’ll be cleanly managed. Don’t you eat tteokbokki? Wouldn’t it be convenient having it downstairs for a late-night snack?”
He leaned forward as if to stand, clearly done with the conversation.
I grabbed his arm and clung to it.
“If there’s any smell, I’ll take responsibility. Please?”
He tried to pry me off with his other hand, clearly irritated. His hand was big enough as it was, but seeing it completely envelop the back of my hand was startling.
How big did a hand have to be to swallow an adult man’s hand like that? From wrist to fingertip—twenty centimeters? No, this wasn’t the time to admire his hand size.
As he tried to shake me off, I gave my final, desperate plea.
“I’ll handle building maintenance! Please! I’ll clean the stairs! I’ll sweep in front of the building every single day! You saw me last time! Oh—and I’ll keep an eye on your car too, make sure no one damages it! Errands—I’ll run errands for you!”
It was practically a slave contract.
But if you thought about it, none of what I’d offered was particularly difficult. In slow times like these, it wouldn’t even be much work. I was just flattering him, trying to fit into the role of the perfect landlord’s helper.
“Errands?”
That last word seemed to catch his interest. He asked again.
Running errands for this brat was humiliating, sure—but what would it amount to? Buying cigarettes or something. What else could it be?
I nodded vigorously, like one of those bobblehead dogs on a car dashboard.
“Fine.”
“Huh?”
I hadn’t expected that to work. Throwing away my last shred of pride and begging like this—and it actually worked!
I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from lifting.
We were finally going to sign the contract!
“Then, would today work?”
At my question, he gave a single nod.
I told him to wait a moment and called the client who had been ready to sign earlier.
