"Back Then, You Saved Me from Hyungjun's Guys, Remember?"

"Of course, I remember."

"Thinking about it now, it’s all just memories. Memories."

Seo-jun chuckled as he placed cola into the cart.

At some point, their roles had been divided—Seo-jun took the kitchen, and Yeon-jun managed the floor.

Even though they worked at the same place, there wasn’t much time to talk. That’s why Seo-jun decided to join Yeon-jun when he said he was going grocery shopping.

"How’s Hyungjun doing these days?"

"Hyungjun? He’s doing really well now, didn’t you know?"

"I’ve only been back for two weeks."

"Oh, right. Hyungjun’s doing great these days. You know the Abyss Guild, right?"

Seo-jun nodded. It was one of the six major guilds in Korea. You couldn’t miss it—with ads everywhere, on TV and online.

"He’s affiliated with them. His rank is pretty high too. I think he’s a branch manager or something."

"Is that a high position?"

"It’s incredibly high. If you’re a branch manager in the Abyss Guild... that’s practically on par with a member of the National Assembly."

"That’s impressive."

"Right? Even when I see him on TV, it feels surreal. Makes you wonder if there’s really a god out there or something."

"Why?"

"Because someone like him is doing so well."

The gods would find it terribly unfair if they overheard.

After adding the last item, a box of Arutus eggs, they left the store. On their way back to the shop, Yeon-jun’s gaze wandered to something.

At first glance, it looked like a generic advertisement banner, but Seo-jun realized it was a car ad—only because of the car image at the bottom.

Ten years ago, car ads focused on fuel efficiency and design. Now, safety was the main selling point.

"If we want to afford something like that, we’ll have to work really hard."

Seo-jun looked over to find Yeon-jun wearing a bitter expression. Despite his words, it was clear he’d already resigned himself to the reality that working hard might never be enough to buy such a car.

‘I hadn’t thought about Yeon-jun and Seowoo.’

In his desire to live simply, he hadn’t considered the discomfort the two might face.

It seemed money would be necessary.

"Welcome back."

As they returned to the shop, Park Yeon greeted them. Yeon-jun glanced at him awkwardly.

"You don’t have to do this…."

"It’s fine. I owe your brother a debt, after all."

Park Yeon, wearing rubber gloves, picked up a mop and headed into the bathroom. Seo-jun stopped Yeon-jun, who was about to stop him.

"It’s okay."

"But I don’t feel right asking him to do that."

"He volunteered. Why stop him?"

"Still, he’s helped Hyung a lot."

"And Hyung’s helped him in return. Besides, everyone should pull their weight. Same goes for me."

"Even so…"

"Customers will be arriving soon. Let’s just get ready for business."

Business had been booming lately.

"Can I get a fried egg over here?"

"A fried egg at a bar? Seriously?"

"Just try it. You’ll be shocked once you taste it."

"It’s just a fried egg. How good can it be?"

"Your fried egg is ready."

"What the—? This is just a fried egg? Wow… this is incredible. Boss, another bottle of soju over here!"

"Boss, same here!"

The word had gotten around. But with popularity came pests. Especially in a bar, where trouble was more likely to brew.

"These guys are from the Samgeori gang, aren’t they? You little bastards! Do you know where you are?"

"You think you own this place? Trying to start a war?"

Click!

Fights frequently broke out between customers, often escalating to drawn guns.

"Excuse me, where’s the restroom?"

"My wallet’s in the car. I’ll be right back to pay."

Some customers would flee without paying. The worst cases, however, were like this:

Thud!

"Excuse me, ma’am."

"Yes?"

"Are your eyes just for decoration? You bumped into me—shouldn’t you apologize?"

"Oh… I’m so sorry. I can’t see well out of one eye. I’m really sorry. I apologize, I apologize."

"You think saying sorry erases what you did? Ridiculous old woman."

It wasn’t the first time someone had picked on the weak for no reason. The elderly woman in question often stopped by to collect scrap cardboard. Today, it seemed, she’d run into trouble while doing so.

As the man spat and raised a hand, it was clear he had practice in this sort of thing. But he’d chosen the wrong day to act out.

Smack!

Someone grabbed his wrist. The man turned to see who had stopped him and sneered.

Wearing rubber gloves and holding a mop, the bar worker stared back at him.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

"Picking on the weak is dishonorable. Stop it."

"Hah… Let go. What, you won’t let go?"

The man frowned. No matter how he struggled, his wrist wouldn’t budge.

"I’ll let go if you promise to stop."

"Hah, sure. I promise. Satisfied?"

"You promised…"

"Yeah, well, I lied!"

Wham!

The man’s face contorted in pain.

‘It’s like hitting a rock!’