Magic Store 34



I took a moment to calm down and think.

There were two possibilities here: either this mechanical doll came here with the intent to mess with me, or…

“Are you perhaps referring to ‘Don’t know’?”

Even after I said this, the doll still looked confused, so I picked up the pack and showed it to him.

Only then did he nod.

“Su-yaat.”

The reason this was happening?

The cigarette brand was literally called “Don't know.”

The name wasn’t derived from something like hula dancing; it literally came from the phrase “I don’t know anything.”

Here’s how the cigarettes are composed: there are 20 in a pack, with four different flavors.

Each flavor is distributed across five cigarettes.

The catch is that the person smoking has no way of knowing which flavor they’re smoking.

They didn’t bother labeling them.

That’s why it’s called “Don't know”—because the smoker has no clue what they’re smoking.

My take on this?

Damn those tobacco company idiots.

If they couldn’t come up with a name, they should’ve held an in-house naming contest instead of making life difficult for convenience store workers like me.

As for why they made these cigarettes like some kind of flavor lottery, I have no clue.

But now that I think about it, the name does draw attention effectively.

These cigarettes first came out when I was still in the army, and back then, I thought they were interesting...

No, wait.

Back then, even seeing fireflies on guard duty was fascinating.

Anyway, it seems that while this mechanical doll knew the name “Don't know,” it didn’t know the brand that came before it.

Well, there’s no law that says only dwarves can be clueless about cigarette names...

“That’ll be 4,500 won.”

“And, Boss, Sky.”

“Sky?”

“Su-yaat. Sky.”

“...Uh, you mean Witch Sky? The light blue one?”

“Su-yaat.”

No, really, what kind of “sky” cigarette are you asking for?

There are over 20 different light blue packs.

But after taking a moment to calm down, the solution became clear.

I found the cigarette brand with “Sky” in the name and handed it over.

The mechanical doll politely nodded again.

I took the opportunity to explain.

“Sir, if you just say ‘Don't know,’ I really won’t know which one you mean. You need to mention the brand name too.”

“Oh. Uh, su-yaat.”

“The same goes for this Sky cigarette.”

Even just among cigarettes, there are brands with the same name, but with different packaging, or even cigarettes with identical names.

Then there are ones where only one character is different at the end...

And not all convenience store workers are masters of 20 Questions, so if you’re going to ask for a cigarette, please be clear about the full name.

It’s not that hard...

“Thank you, Boss.”

Still, this mechanical doll was quite polite.

Most people just look at you with an expression that says, “Shouldn’t you already know what I mean?”

After finishing the transaction and handing over the cigarettes and card, the mechanical doll bowed its head and asked me, “Boss, do you work every day?”

“Well, I’m here for 12 hours every day.”

My body can still handle these long shifts, but I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going like this.

I really hope the manager hires another part-timer soon...

“Hope business goes well?”

“There haven’t been many customers today. How about you? How’s business on your end?”

“No. It’s a disaster.”

A disaster, they say.

I had just been making small talk, but it seems I’ve inadvertently opened the door to a longer conversation.

“We’re good at what we do. But there’s no work.”

“Oh, I see…”

“Su-yaat. Looks like they don’t trust Porso. Boss says we might have to go back to our hometown.”

It seemed like this "Boss" they were referring to wasn't me, but rather their own boss.

And "Porso" must be what these mechanical dolls call themselves in their own language.

It's kind of surprising that I managed to figure that out.

The mechanical doll continued to wear a gloomy expression.

It looked like it wanted to vent some more, but suddenly stopped when the front doorbell rang.

Yoon-Ha Noona had walked in.

Feeling a bit awkward, the doll smiled sheepishly and gave me another polite nod.

“Su-yaat. Wishing you success, Boss.”

As it turned to leave, I called out after it.

“Thanks. I hope things go well for you too.”

It was just a polite phrase, but there wasn’t much else I could say...

"Hey, Chan. Why the long face?"

...Was there?

“Did that customer give you trouble?”

“No, it wasn’t that... Noona, do you know if a slaughterhouse is ever called a workshop?”

“They used to call it that back in the day. But why?”

I remembered that I had a business card from those mechanical doll customers.

I pulled it out and handed it to her.

She looked it over, flipping it back and forth, before asking me with a puzzled expression.

“You know this place?”

“Not really, but a few days ago, a bunch of those mechanical doll customers showed up, right? I got it from them then.”

“They gave you a business card?”

“Yeah, said they were the boss.”

Honestly, that was one hell of a rough day.

But I didn’t feel like dredging up memories that were likely to trigger some serious PTSD.

“They claimed they’re good at what they do. But then again, what workshop would admit they’re bad at their job…?”

The timing seemed perfect, so I decided to suggest it.

Sure, this place might end up being as bad as the last workshop, but Noona would be the one to judge that.

When I thought about it, the whole situation seemed kind of amusing.

I expected her to laugh it off, but instead, she looked surprisingly serious.

“…I’ve worked with mechanical dolls a few times before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They were porters when I was going in and out of the gate. They all did their jobs pretty well.”

Porters?

Like Sherpas or something?

“But I’ve never seen mechanical dolls running a workshop before. Can I keep the business card?”

“Sure. You’ll make better use of it than I would.”

I didn’t think much of it.

It’s not like I’d use a slaughterhouse’s business card for anything, let alone ask them to deal with troublemakers.

But to my surprise, Noona took the card and immediately made a phone call.

“It’s Sunday, and you’re not even texting first?”

“If they don’t answer calls on the weekend, they’re no good to me anyway… It’s ringing. Hey, if this place turns out to be decent, let’s grab a crab meal together sometime.”

I’m all for a free meal, but why does it have to be crab?

“Oh, right. Kimchi.”

I was going to make an excuse about being afraid of liver flukes, but she was already out the door with a box of kimchi and didn’t return for another 10 minutes.

No wonder she doesn’t have many friends; she just dashes off whenever work comes up.

The fact that this workshop’s boss answered a call on the weekend shows how desperate they must be for work.

But really, I’m the one with the problem here.

After living, breathing kimchi, now it’s going to be crab?

Honestly, I don’t mind crab that much, but I have a feeling the crabs around here won’t be quite... normal.

I was worried enough that I tried calling the manager to ask about it, but this time, her phone was off and went straight to voicemail.

I decided not to worry too much about it.

Her phone was probably just out of battery, nothing more.

And so, I found myself alone, with no customers coming in.

Just in case the cigarette fairy had played a prank, I counted the cigarettes twice, wiped off all the kimchi stains, restocked the shelves with drinks and snacks, and by 11 o'clock, there were still no customers, as expected.

With nothing else to do, I stepped outside to get some fresh air.

That’s when I noticed a woman in a cardigan leaning against a nearby utility pole.

At first, I was going to ignore her, but the pink hair and the small wings on her back looked familiar…

“What are you doing over there?”

It was the succubus.

I recognized her, so I spoke to her reflexively.

But as soon as she looked at me, I immediately regretted it.

Her eyes were glazed over.

“Ugh… hello….”

She spoke normally, so it didn’t seem like she was drunk.

She tried to pull herself together, pushing off the utility pole, but she stumbled and leaned back against it.

I asked her to confirm.

“Have you been drinking today?”

“No… I haven’t had any alcohol… Ugh….”

Then what is it?

I waited, and the succubus slowly responded.

“At the club…”

At the club, what?

I waited, but the succubus just mumbled and seemed thirsty.

“You should probably get yourself an energy drink or something.”

“…Okay.”

She agreed and managed to stumble her way inside.

Once inside, she immediately slumped into a chair at a table, hunched over.

She looked a bit pitiful, so I brought an energy drink to the table myself.

Since I’d suggested it, I figured she’d take care of the payment later.

The succubus grabbed the energy drink with both hands and struggled to open it, but she seemed too exhausted to even manage that.

So, I told her to hand it over, and I opened it for her.

“Ah… thank you.”

“But what on earth did you do at the club to end up this worn out?”

I didn’t know much about this succubus.

From the few conversations we’d had, I figured she might have gone to the club looking for something like true love, but it hadn’t gone well.

It didn’t seem like the kind of place a succubus would go on her own.

I mean, clubs aren’t exactly known for being places to find true love, right?

…To be honest, I’ve never been to a club, so I wouldn’t know.

I’ve been single my whole life.

In fact, some of my so-called friends have suggested that I should go to a club because I’m single, but when they actually went, they came back broke, without even talking to a girl.

I had no interest in wasting my time like that, nor did I want to risk getting into trouble with bouncers at the door.

So, with my limited knowledge, all I could do was ask her what happened.

The succubus, her face turning red, lowered her head and stammered out a response.

“No… it’s not like that….”

“So, were you really looking for true love? And it didn’t work out?”

“No, it’s not that at all!”

She seemed flustered as she quickly lifted her head and then, as if a dam had burst, started to explain everything.

“True love? No way! I didn’t even want to go in the first place!”

“Hey, no need to get upset…”

“My senior colleagues at work dragged me there! I told them, ‘Sorry, I’ve never been to a club before,’ and they said they’d cover everything, so they dragged me along!”

“So, it wasn’t your idea to go…?”

"They were all up close, grinding their hips like this, like this. Then they’d balance a shot glass on a pair of chopsticks, pucker up their lips, and flick it off! My seniors, after luring people in, would just drink with a mysterious grin and then vanish somewhere with other species they’d just met—”

“Hmm… I see….”

She barely let me get a word in.

As the succubus described all this, she gestured animatedly, making the whole thing come alive.

When she mentioned the hips, she made her hands into a V-shape and clashed them together; when she talked about the shot glass, she closed her eyes tight and puckered her lips.

“And now, none of them are even answering their phones. Where on earth could they all be?”

When she asked me that, she genuinely looked clueless, but I’ve got an amazing answer to this mystery, though there isn’t enough space here to write it all out.

Comments Box