You know what's worse than failing your college entrance exam for the third time? Getting dumped via text while you're counting expired yogurt drinks at 3 AM in Seoul's most depressing convenience store. And you know what's worse than that? Having the actual apocalypse show up during your shift and somehow making your day better.
I'm not even kidding.
"Item count verification required on aisle three," the store's ancient speaker system crackles, like it has every night for the past year. I ignore it, just like I've ignored every other soul-crushing reminder that this is my life now. Instead, I'm staring at my phone, re-reading the breakup text for the twentieth time.
Sorry Hang-ah~ I don't think this is working out 💔💔💔Let's end things here! Fighting 💪
Three hearts and a fighting sticker. She dumped me with three hearts and a fighting sticker.
"If my life were a game," I mutter, scanning another expired yogurt drink (seriously, who even stocks these?), "I'd definitely be the NPC that dies in the tutorial. Like, not even an important death. Just background flavor text: 'Local part-timer found expired. Cause of death: overwhelming mediocrity.'"
That's when my phone buzzes again. For a split second, my heart does this pathetic little jump – maybe she changed her mind? But no, it's just Min-ji. My little sister, who apparently thinks 3 AM is the perfect time to need help with calculus.
Oppa, are you awake? I don't understand this derivative problem...
I'm typing back a response that's mostly just crying emojis when the first rift tears open above the instant ramen aisle. It starts with a sound like someone's running a fork through reality's speakers – you know that ear-splitting screech that makes you want to delete existence? Yeah, that. The air splits apart, edges glowing like a broken vending machine (which, by the way, is the only thing in this store that actually works properly).
And what falls through? A spider. Well, sort of. If spiders wore glasses and had the upper body of my old math teacher, complete with a coffee-stained dress shirt and a tie that screams "I gave up on life around the same time you failed to understand polynomials."
I should run. I really, really should run. But you know what I do instead?
I laugh.
Not a nervous chuckle or a hysterical giggle. No, I'm talking full-on, bent-over, tears-in-my-eyes cackling. Because of course this is happening. Of course the day I get dumped via emoji is the day reality decides to ctrl+alt+delete itself. Of course the first monster of the apocalypse is a hybrid of the two things I hate most: spiders and math teachers.
The spider-teacher thing turns its eight eyes toward me, adjusting its glasses with one hairy leg. "Mr. Han," it clicks in a voice that sounds exactly like my old teacher, "I see you're still failing to grasp the gravity of your situation."
That just makes me laugh harder. I'm literally crying now, holding onto a shelf of cup ramyun for support. "I'm sorry," I wheeze, "but did you just make a pun? Is the apocalypse going to be graded on a curve?"
The monster rears up, probably offended by my complete failure to show proper terror. That's when I realize two very important things:
One: My trusty convenience store mop probably isn't the best weapon against interdimensional math teachers with spider bodies.
Two: For the first time in my life, I actually feel lucky.
And that's the weirdest part of all.
"Status report," I mutter to myself, channeling every protagonist from every manhwa I've ever read. "Location: Seoul's saddest convenience store. Weapon: One slightly damp mop. Backup: Zero, unless you count the expired yogurt drinks. Current situation: About to get graded by an arachnid arithmetic professor."
The spider-teacher thing starts moving toward me, each leg making a sound like chalk on a blackboard. "Mr. Han, please solve the following equation: If a convenience store worker encounters an interdimensional being at 3 AM, what are his chances of survival?"
I grip my mop tighter, a grin spreading across my face that probably makes me look insane. "You know what? For the first time in my life, I actually think the odds might be in my favor."
That's when my phone buzzes again. Min-ji's sent another message:
Oppa, something weird is happening outside. There are lights in the sky, and I think I just saw Mrs. Park's cat turn into a dragon.
Well, shit.
The spider-teacher raises all its legs, revealing a mouth full of what looks suspiciously like protractors. "Time for your final exam, Mr. Han."
And you know what? I can't stop smiling. Because somehow, standing here in this fluorescent-lit convenience store, armed with nothing but a mop and a lifetime of bad luck that's finally turned around, I feel like I might actually pass this one.
Even if it kills me.
(Spoiler alert: it doesn't. But what happens next? That's when things get really weird.)