If Park Heung-guk's life could be summed up in a single line, it would be: "Some guys just can't catch a break."
After quitting his job and boldly opening his first fried chicken place, the opening buzz faded almost instantly, customers dried up, and the shutters came down before the year was out.
The karaoke bar he tried next got crushed when a competitor twice the size and twice as flashy moved into the very building next door.
And his third venture, a snack bar... well, the place was dead for reasons he couldn't even begin to diagnose, and he folded it in six months.
In short: everything he touched turned to dust.
*If I fail again, I'm dying alone!*
Last chance. Last chance. He'd repeated it like a mantra going into his fourth attempt — this PC bang.
[Nero PC Bang]
It had started with a tip from an acquaintance over drinks, who'd said it was the hottest business to get into right now.
IT, internet, gaming, blah blah blah. The guy had thrown around all these impressive-sounding buzzwords, and Heung-guk had taken the bait.
The truth was, he hadn't known much about online gaming, and he definitely hadn't known how much money it would take to open a place.
All he'd heard was, *"In a PC bang, it's all about the specs."*
So he'd gone ahead and ordered dozens of top-of-the-line machines.
Resolved to bite his own tongue if he failed, he'd scraped together every won he had and taken out a massive loan for the rest.
The day Nero PC Bang opened, the sight of all those brand-new computers lined up in a row was genuinely impressive.
Reality, however, was not.
He'd borrowed like he was building an empire, but the money trickling into his account was barely a drip.
He needed every single seat filled just to cover the loan interest.
And it wasn't like his was the only PC bang in the neighborhood. Customers migrated like birds chasing cheaper rates, even if it meant worse specs.
He couldn't lower his hourly price either — he didn't even need a calculator to see where that road ended.
Somehow, three months passed after opening.
"Should I just cut my losses now?"
The thought slipped out while he sat at the counter, heaving sigh after sigh.
Maybe he should sell off the computers while they were still in good shape, and use that money to look into something else. If he was serious about it, he might at least salvage enough for a modest new start.
He was genuinely weighing his fourth shutdown when it happened.
"Two hours each, please."
A clear, bright voice. He looked over the counter and found a girl who looked like a little doll, holding out coins and bills.
Unmistakably elementary schoolers.
It was already rare enough for women to come into a PC bang — but a girl this young, in the three months since opening, was a first.
And there was something different about her energy. It was like a cheerful little flower had bloomed in a shop that had only ever seen gloomy men slouching around.
He wondered what a couple of little ladies were doing in a place like this, but if they had their own money and wanted to play games, who was he to say anything?
*Well, that's a first.*
His own problems were more pressing, so the thought left his mind almost immediately.
But then.
"Three hours each, please."
The next day, and the day after that, the girl kept showing up.
Curious about what on earth she was doing here, he wandered over and glanced at her screen.
*Bang bang! Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!*
She was playing a shooter — the kind of game you'd expect only boys to be into — and she was playing it with real skill.
The friend beside her had inexplicably pulled out some knitting, which was baffling, but the two of them together were so warm and cozy that just watching them made the whole shop feel a little warmer.
They were so conspicuous that the regulars around them actually toned down their language — a sight Heung-guk had never expected to see. And unlike the usual rowdy elementary kids, these two were quiet, which the adult customers appreciated.
For about two weeks, the pair showed up reliably, day after day, and he'd come to think of them as a kind of mascot.
Then one day, as Heung-guk sat at the counter scratching his head, the little girl — Lee Chae-won — came trotting over.
"Hm? What's up? Want something to drink?"
He asked out of habit, since the regulars and he himself had taken to buying the girls drinks now and then.
But what came out of Chae-won's mouth was something else entirely.
"Mister, do you sell ramen here?"
"Ramen...?"
"I think it'd sell really well if you did. People play for a long time and get hungry."
*...Huh?*
Heung-guk smiled a little.
*Kid must be hungry.*
The counter only had dried squid jerky and a few snacks — the kind of things people nibbled on with drinks.
Sure, plenty of PC bangs sold cup ramen. But this was a premium PC bang.
Let people eat in front of those expensive computers and monitors? Who knew what could happen?
He'd deliberately left cup ramen off the menu.
Besides, the common wisdom was that cup ramen didn't sell well at premium prices, and the margins were thin anyway.
Still, the kid looked hungry.
He was about to hand her a Choco Pie to tide her over when he remembered.
"Oh, right."
He'd bought a cup of ramen earlier to have for lunch.
Thinking about the shop's uncertain future killed his appetite every time, so it had just been sitting there.
"Want this? It's not for sale, so it's on me. It's hot — I'll make it for you. Just go sit down."
"Oh — I can pay—"
"Don't worry about it. Go on, shoo."
If he'd gotten married earlier instead of chasing one failed business after another, he might have had a daughter about her age by now.
He watched her go, then poured hot water into the cup ramen with a wry smile.
Sales shrinking a little more every day. If this month ended in the red, he'd be in real trouble.
Behind the small, ordinary moments of daily life lurked a mountain of debt.
*If I sold all the computers... how much would I get?*
Here he was, seriously contemplating shutting down, while making cup ramen for an elementary schooler. It was almost funny.
Heung-guk chuckled to himself and personally carried the cup ramen over to Chae-won's seat.
Ramen in front of those expensive computers and monitors?
Something he couldn't have imagined on opening day. But at this point, he'd given up caring — and watching these kids, making sure they weren't going hungry, gave him a strange kind of peace.
Exactly three minutes after receiving the cup ramen, Lee Chae-won:
"Ooh, this looks amazing."
Made a little dish out of the lid.
"Hff, hff—"
Carefully blew on the noodles to cool them down.
And then.
"Slurrrp—!"
She'd clearly tried to eat quietly, but somehow the sound rang out across the entire PC bang.
Because.
"What's that smell?"
"Ramen?"
The intoxicating scent of ramen broth drifting from Chae-won's seat had drawn every eye in the room.
And at the center of it all was Chae-won, triumphantly lifting a full chopstick-load of noodles.
"Mmmmm~! So good. Hehe."
She fed each strand carefully into her mouth, cheeks puffed out like a little squirrel.
Her tiny mouth worked away, chewing, and then she swallowed with a satisfied gulp.
"Ahhhh, that's the stuff."
A blissful, unguarded smile spread across her face, eyes sparkling like gemstones. Even in the dim atmosphere of the PC bang, that innocent little grin seemed to pour sunlight into the room.
The customers watching her:
*Gulp.*
*I want some.*
*I'm kind of hungry.*
One by one they got up and headed toward the counter, and Heung-guk waved them off with a bewildered look, trying to explain it wasn't for sale.
But the requests kept coming, and he couldn't turn them all away.
*Oh, what the heck.*
He ran to the nearby convenience store, grabbed a stack of cup ramen, and started making them to order.
"So how much is the cup ramen, boss?"
"Uh... well..."
*I bought it at the store, so it wasn't cheap...*
But he couldn't take a loss either.
"Fifteen hundred won."
A price you wouldn't find at any other PC bang — and yet.
"Here you go."
"...?"
Wallets opened without a single complaint.
*Huh...*
He had a rough idea of how things had unfolded, but still.
*Is this really okay?*
Selling food hadn't been part of the plan at all.
Each cup ramen only netted him about five hundred won.
But once one person ordered, everyone else followed suit.
Not bad, actually.
Heung-guk found himself turning to look at Chae-won's seat without even thinking about it.
He'd visited plenty of competitors while researching the business — none of them had the whole place eating cup ramen like this.
*How on earth did she make it look that delicious... Thank you, kid!*
In the heart of Nero PC Bang's owner Park Heung-guk, Lee Chae-won's status had risen considerably.
And a few days later.
"Mister. Hey, mister."
"Oh, yeah. What is it?"
"So, um."
Chae-won hesitated, then came out with a peculiar proposal.
***
I'd been pinching every won I had to keep coming to the PC bang.
My usual tiny allowance, plus 4,000 won I'd wrangled out of my mom under the pretense of buying snacks with friends after school.
*Grumble.*
*Should I sell some cards...?*
If I sold off part of the Duel King collection I'd been building since kindergarten, I could probably afford to come here every day——
*Gasp.*
No, no, what am I even thinking!
I shook my head hard and dismissed the idea.
If I just held onto them, they'd be worth several times as much in the future.
Selling them now just because I needed cash would be like slaughtering the goose that laid the golden eggs.
*I'll just go hungry.*
Gaming on an empty stomach. That was the mindset.
When Si-yeon tagged along and asked if I was hungry, I lied and said no.
*I have my pride. I'm not taking handouts!*
Besides, once you got into a game, hunger was nothing.
I'd gone without eating plenty of times back when I lived in that gosiwon, gaming through the night.
...Was that why I died?
*Shake shake.* I rattled my head side to side again.
Anyway. A little hunger was nothing. I told myself that and enjoyed my games.
But.
*Grrrumble.*
"Ugh."
A child's body was brutally honest.
I couldn't take it anymore. I went to the counter to order ramen, and—
"Ramen...?"
*Are you kidding me, they don't have ramen?*
Come to think of it, I'd never once smelled ramen in this PC bang.
Was it not time for them to start selling it yet? You'd at least expect cup ramen, right?
I'd wanted proper bag ramen, but they didn't even have cup ramen, apparently.
That was when I actually took a proper look around Nero PC Bang for the first time.
Clean interior. Unnecessarily high-spec computers. A bored-looking owner.
*...Is this place going under?*
I'd liked it here because the regulars and the owner would sometimes give us free drinks. It was way cleaner than other places, too.
No wonder he always looked so miserable. Business must be rough.
"......"
Should I say something or not?
I'd never heard of a PC bang that didn't sell food.
In the future it would become completely standard, so to me it was just common sense — but apparently not yet.
"Mister, I think ramen would sell really well here. People play for a long time and get hungry."
I thought it over and offered the advice.
What I got in return was the owner's lunch.
Specifically: cup ramen.
He really was a genuinely kind man.
Goodness.
I could feel his anxious gaze from the counter, worried I'd spill something, but I did my best to ignore it.
*Snap.*
I split the wooden chopsticks apart.
*Let me show you the power of ramen.*
I made a bit of a production of it — blowing on the noodles dramatically, like a celebrity in a ramen commercial, letting the smell drift in every direction.
I put on a whole little performance for a camera that didn't exist, and by the time I was done, there was already a crowd gathering at the counter.
The owner ended up officially adding cup ramen to the menu.
I felt pretty good about having delayed the closure of my regular PC bang, even if just a little.
But.
A problem arose from my continued PC bang attendance.
"I'm... out of money..."
My mom had started asking what I was eating all the time that I kept needing more allowance.
I'd squeaked out of it by making a big fuss about how that was a rude question to ask a girl my age — but.
"Hmph."
One hour at a time was a frustratingly tiny amount of playtime.
And I really didn't want to go back to using Dad's laggy old laptop at this point—
I was practically on the verge of actually selling my Duel King cards when.
*Oh!*
A good idea hit me.
I ran straight to the PC bang.
"Mister! Boss! Boss!"
"Oh, yeah. What is it?"
"So, um."
How do I convince him.
I had the idea, but.
"You sell ramen now, right?"
"Hm? Yeah, I do."
"No, not that."
Not cup ramen. In a proper bowl.
"Bag ramen."
*I'll help you make money — just give me one free seat.* Operation: Begin.