The streets glistened faintly under the streetlights as Tae-min made his way home. The night still carried the faint buzz of neon and cigarette smoke, the city alive even when the rest of the world seemed tired.
On impulse, he stopped at the small convenience store tucked between an apartment block and a laundry shop — his usual stop after long days. The automatic doors hissed open, and there she was — the goth part-timer.
Black eyeliner, ear piercings, and a streak of purple in her hair. She stood behind the counter, lazily scrolling through her phone. Her eyes flicked up when she saw him.
"Oh, it's you again," she said, her tone half-teasing. "No cup noodles this time?"
Tae-min glanced at the shelves before replying, "Not tonight. I'm going healthy."
He picked up some rice, chicken breast, and a few vegetables — a rare display of effort on his part.
"Wow," she said as she rang up his items. "Didn't think I'd see the day. Trying to impress someone?"
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Just myself."
She smirked. "That's even worse."
For a second, Tae-min almost laughed — a small sound, more breath than voice. "You always talk like that to customers?"
"Only the ones who look like they've seen ghosts," she said, handing him his bag.
He hesitated at the door, then turned back slightly. "You never told me your name."
"Because you never asked."
"Fair. What's your name, then?"
"Rina," she said, with that same lazy smirk. "Yours?"
"Tae-min."
"See? That wasn't so hard."
There was a small pause before she added, "You should smile more, Tae-min. It suits you better."
He blinked. "Did I… smile?"
She giggled softly. "Almost."
For the first time, he walked out of the convenience store not feeling like a shadow.
Halfway up the apartment stairs, he ran into his landlord — an older lady in her late fifties, with curlers still in her hair and a grocery bag in hand.
"Oh, Tae-min!" she said, her face lighting up. "I saw you earlier. Who was that man picking you up in that nice car?"
He froze for a moment. "A friend."
Her smile widened instantly. "A friend! I'm glad to hear that. I was starting to worry, you know? You're always so quiet, I thought maybe you didn't have anyone."
He gave a polite nod. "Thanks for worrying."
As she walked off, still smiling, Tae-min stood there for a while. The word "friend" still echoed in his head. He wasn't sure if it was true — but it didn't feel like a lie either.
Later, in his apartment, he cooked for the first time in months. The food wasn't perfect — the rice was slightly overdone and the chicken was dry — but it was warm. It was his.
Lying on his bed afterward, he stared at the ceiling, thoughts drifting between Rina's teasing voice and Sang-ho's laugh from earlier.
For once, he didn't think about survival.
He thought about the future.
The next morning, he walked into the coffee shop early. Only Do Jin and the barista were there. She was leaning on the counter, whispering something that made Do Jin blush slightly.
"Morning," Tae-min greeted, setting his bag down.
Do Jin turned around quickly. "Oh, hey—"
"You two look like a couple," Tae-min said casually.
Do Jin's reaction was instant — his face went red. "W–We're not! Who told you that?"
The barista laughed. "He didn't say we are, dummy. But you just confirmed it."
Do Jin groaned and rubbed his face. "Unbelievable."
Tae-min smirked slightly — the rare kind of humor that came naturally.
Just then, the front door opened.
Sang-ho stepped in, as charismatic as ever — slick hair, sharp clothes, but something about him felt… off. His eyes lacked their usual spark.
"Morning, boss," Do Jin said quickly, straightening up.
Sang-ho barely responded, setting his coat down. "Tae-min. You know how to drive, right?"
"I do," Tae-min said.
"You got a license?"
"No."
"Doesn't matter." Sang-ho's tone was clipped, cold. "You'll be handling client visits alone for a while."
Do Jin frowned. "What happened?"
Sang-ho exhaled through his nose. "The big European got arrested. False charges — assault, extortion, some nonsense. Someone's trying to pin things on us."
The air around him darkened. Even the barista, sensing the tension, quietly slipped to the back.
"I have a meeting with the higher-ups," Sang-ho continued. "Do Jin's coming with me."
He turned to Tae-min, his voice quieter but sharper. "Don't screw up today. Pick your clients carefully. And keep your head low."
Then he was gone — leaving only the faint smell of cigarette smoke behind.
Tae-min stepped outside soon after. He wasn't worried. The streets felt strangely calm as he slid into one of the company's cars, adjusting the mirror before starting the engine.
He didn't have a license — but he didn't need one. The wheel felt natural in his hands. The city blurred past as he drove, sharp and precise, like he'd been doing this all his life.
He scrolled through the client list on his phone. The sad-face emoji caught his eye — a businessman named Park Jun-ho, 33, overdue for a debt repayment.
"Let's start with you," he murmured.
Park's office building was a glass tower downtown. Tae-min waited in the parking lot, leaning casually against the car until the man arrived.
Jun-ho stepped out of a silver sedan, dressed in a neatly pressed suit, looking more tired than dangerous.
"Mr. Park," Tae-min called out.
The man turned, startled. "Who—"
"I'm here about your payment."
"I told your people I'd handle it next week."
Tae-min smiled faintly. "You said that last week, too."
"I don't have the money right now."
"I think you do," Tae-min said calmly. "Not in your account — but in that safe you keep behind your office desk. You've been hiding money from the debt records, right?"
Jun-ho froze. "How—"
"Doesn't matter how." Tae-min took a step closer. "You don't want this to get ugly. I'm just here to collect."
There was silence. Then, reluctantly, Jun-ho opened his briefcase and handed over a thick envelope.
"₩13 million," he said quietly. "That's everything I can give."
Tae-min nodded. "Good choice."
By noon, he'd already handled two more clients — both smiley-face ones, both cooperative. The money came easy.
As he leaned back in the driver's seat, counting the cash, he couldn't help but smirk.
It wasn't excitement.
It wasn't greed.
It was control.
For once, life didn't feel like something happening to him.
It felt like something he could steer.
And as he drove through the streets with the afternoon sun glinting off the windshield, Tae-min thought of Sang-ho's tense face, Rina's laugh, and the landlord's words echoing faintly in his head.
Maybe, just maybe — he was starting to belong somewhere.