Chapter 1: The Worst Day Ever
Do you know what sucks harder than failing your college entrance exam for the third time? Getting dumped over a text right between being forced to count how many yogurt drinks have expired while working the graveyard at one of Seoul's shadier shops-at 3 AM, when depressing is the only color under the neon lights of towering shopping malls. And do you know what sucks harder than having some guy do that? Watching the actual apocalypse happen and somehow make your day better.
I'm not even kidding.
"Item count verification required on aisle three," the store's ancient speaker system crackles, just as it has every night this past year. I let the soul-crushing knowledge of this being my existence brush over me, exactly like any other reminder through life these days. Yet now I am staring down into my phone, going for a twentieth reread in respect to the breakup text.
Sorry Hang-ah~ I don't think this is working out ㅠㅠ Let's end things here! Fighting~
Three love 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 yoghurt drink that seems to have expired, because who stocks these things ever?, "I'd clearly be the NPC that goes down in the tutorial. In fact, not even story-relevant. Just whatever flavor text: 'Locally sourced part-timer found expired. Cause of Death: overwhelming mediocrity.'"
That's when my phone buzzes again. For one brief moment, my heart does this sad little leap-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 really don't get this problem of derivatives.
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 is, incidentally, the only thing in this store that functions as intended.
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. Really, really should run. But you know what I actually did?
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 would be a hybrid of the two things I hate most in this world: 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 only 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.
Which, in fact, is the weirdest part of all.
"Status report," I mumbled, acting out my favorite protagonist for all the manhwas I had read. "Location: Ddreariest convenience store of Seoul. Weapon: One almost wet mop. Backup: Zero, unless you counted expired yogurt drinks. Condition: About to get a grading by an arachnid arithmetic professor."
The spider-teacher thing starts to inch towards me, each leg scratching the floor 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 clamp down on my mop hard, a grin spreading right across my face that very likely makes me look totally insane. "You know what? For the very first time in my entire life, I really do believe the odds might just go my way.
That's when my phone buzzes again. Min-ji's sent another message:
Oppa, something is weird 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 lifts all of its legs. It flashes a mouth full of what definitely resembles 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.