I Just Work the Night Shift… So Why Did She Ask Me for a Rope?

At 11:30 PM, my alarm went off.

A reminder that it was about time to go to work.

I have a night gig, working as a cashier at a 24-hour chain convenience store. My main shift is from midnight to eight in the morning.

Since practically no one wants to work the overnight shift, I got hired pretty easily.

As for why I need a side job… well, obviously because I don’t have enough money.

Sure, I make some money from commissioned illustrations, but that income isn’t stable.

It’s not like I’m some hugely popular artist; freelance work doesn’t come in all the time. If I relied solely on that and suddenly had no jobs one day, I might end up with nothing to put on the table.

Well… that’s how it sounds, but it’s not like I’m so broke I can’t get by.

I don’t spend money on gacha games, I don’t care about clothes, and I’m not picky with food.

So my main expenses are just rent and games when they’re on sale.

I’ve even got some savings put aside for a rainy day.

So, the main reason I took this gig was really to give myself a reason to go outside.

If I didn’t have this job, I’d be a true, 24-hour home security guard, only stepping out to buy essentials, maybe once a month.

That felt a bit… a bit too extreme, so I figured I’d get a part-time job to give myself a reason to leave the house.

Plus, this job suits my completely wrecked internal clock perfectly.

Back when I was grinding out illustrations, I’d often mix up day and night. Eventually, I unconsciously became the type who’s more alert at night.

I did try to fix my schedule at first, but I just couldn’t change it… so I decided to just keep living on American time.

After getting dressed, I stepped outside, took a breath of crisp, cold air, and let the stale air out of my lungs. I felt a wave of physical and mental relief, and even my mind felt sharper.

Ah… I really do prefer the night.

Walking down the empty streets, it felt like the only person left in the world was me.

Boundless freedom.

The convenience store where I work isn’t far from where I live, about a ten-minute walk.

It’s situated in the middle of a V-shaped intersection, a good location. Probably gets plenty of customers during the day.

But at night? Not a soul.

After all, this is a residential area. Who goes out of their way to a convenience store late at night?

So, rather than hiring me to do cashier work, it’s more like they hired me to watch the store.

When I walked in, the store manager was nodding off with his phone in his hand, his eyes rolled back.

“Manager, I’m here to take over.”

“Oh… Oh!”

Startled awake, the manager’s body jolted, and his phone slipped from his grasp…

I caught it before it hit the ground.

I handed the phone back to him.

“Here’s your phone. Wake yourself up, Manager. You can go back to sleep once you get home.”

The manager shook his head and blinked a few times, taking the phone I offered.

“Oh… thanks, A-Qi… you’re finally here…”

Ming Qi, that’s my name.

Family name Ming, given name Qi.

Probably a bit of an odd name… Well, it’s just a shortened version of an even odder one.

“Oh my, you’re a lifesaver. If I’d cracked my phone screen again, I’d probably get an earful from the wife when I got home.”

“Get a protective case and a tempered glass screen protector.”

“Ha, good idea. I’ll have my daughter order one online for me tomorrow… Well, go get changed.”

“Right away.”

I went into the staff break room, changed into the convenience store uniform, and when I came back out, the manager was yawning and stretching.

“Sigh… staying up late every day is rough on an old guy like me…”

He turned around, saw me already dressed in the store uniform, and chuckled.

“Hehe, I’m really glad you’re here to watch the store, A-Qi. Otherwise, I’d probably end up sick from exhaustion. Before, things were so bad I couldn’t even go home…”

“Manager, you should head back and get some rest.”

“Alright, I’ll leave the store to you.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“If you get sleepy, have a few cans of coffee or Red Bull. There probably won’t be many customers, but don’t fall asleep, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m a severe insomniac.”

“Heh… you… come to think of it, my daughter’s the same way, always mixing up day and night. I really don’t get what she does staying up so late…”

“Nightlife’s pretty vibrant these days, old man.”

“Hehe, I guess there’s a generation gap between an old guy like me and you youngsters.”

The manager shook his head with a resigned laugh.

“Alright, I’m heading back then, A-Qi.”

“It’s fine. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Hehe, that’s true… with you here, I’m at ease.”

The manager waved goodbye and walked out of the convenience store, his figure disappearing into the night.

A guy with a family is really lucky, but a guy supporting a family sure has it tough.

The manager is pretty easygoing. And he’s generous too; he pays me twenty percent more than the average convenience store rate and lets me eat some of the store’s items.

Of course, this special treatment comes from having earned his trust.

Actually, earning his trust is pretty simple.

He’s the manager, I’m the employee.

As long as I’m not late, not early, and don’t mess up.

He’ll naturally see me as a reliable young man and won’t mind giving me better treatment.

Compared to just talking the talk—saying things like ‘Please trust me! I promise I won’t screw up!’—it’s way more convincing to just prove yourself through actions.

Be honest, keep your promises, be humble and not arrogant with people, be responsible with tasks, be realistic and not fake.

If you can do these things, most people will be willing to trust you…

That’s the simplest way to handle people.

Just then, a customer came into the store.

A short guy wearing ill-fitting dress pants walked in, came straight up to me, and said,

“Ahem… three packs of Yuxi.”

He was trying hard to hide his nervousness, but his body and movements were still a bit stiff.

Oh dear… interesting. Too bad for you that you walked into my store.

“May I see your ID, please?”

The kid froze for a second, but quickly snapped out of it and pulled an ID from his pocket to show me.

“Here.”

Oh… looks like he came prepared. The photo on the ID looks a bit like the kid in front of me, but it’s probably not him; it’s probably his dad’s. Those pants he’s wearing are probably his dad’s too.

I took the ID and looked at it for a moment, then looked into the kid’s eyes and said with a smile,

“Hmm… The photo on this ID doesn’t really look much like you, though?”

“Th-That’s! It was taken years ago! Of course I’d look different now!”

Oh dear… getting all flustered and trying to explain already means it’s game over, young man.

“Sorry… I can’t sell these to you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re a minor, little bro.”

“You! Why are you, a store clerk, sticking your nose in this! I’m just running an errand for my dad! Why do you care so much? Just sell them to me and be done with it!”

Fear, panic, and exasperation.

Combined with the way he walked straight towards me as soon as he came in…

He’s probably been sent on this errand by some school punks.

Hmm… what should I do?

I could just sell them to him; I don’t really have to get involved…

But this is too interesting. I’ve decided to stir the pot.

“Here, come over.”

I motioned the kid closer and leaned in to whisper,

“Let me ask you… are you getting bullied?”

“You…! I…!”

He leaned back in surprise, practically with ‘How did you know?’ written all over his face.

“Let me tell you something. If you actually run this errand and buy them cigarettes, when they get caught smoking at school, they’ll definitely throw you under the bus.”

“Ah…!”

And with how honest this kid seems, he probably wouldn’t be able to talk his way out in front of the teacher. He’d want to tell the truth but be afraid of retaliation from those punks, so he’d just have to swallow his anger.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

“I’ll teach you a trick.”

“Wh-What trick…”

“Go back now.”

“Huh?!”

“Are you kidding me?! If I go back without the cigarettes, they’ll definitely…”

“Then tell those students who sent you that you saw your homeroom teacher shopping at the convenience store and were afraid you’d get caught, so you had to run back. Tell them they should just go home for today.”

“Such a lame lie… Who’d believe that?”

“Right, they won’t. But you have to act all panicked, like you’re telling the truth, showing that you’re trying to help them.”

“Then they’ll believe me?”

“Still no.”

Hearing my straightforward answer, the kid’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“Then what’s the point of this…”

“Next, you act like you don’t care anymore. Just tell them straight up that you’re not helping them, you’re going home… then run home.”

“No way! If I do that, they’ll definitely beat me up at school tomorrow… Ugh…!”

“So when you get home, call your homeroom teacher or message them on WeChat. Tell them you ‘just happened’ to see those guys buying cigarettes around here, and ask them to come over quickly.”

“Huh?! But will she… actually come?”

“How should I know? I don’t know your teacher.”

“You…!”

If it were one of those passionate, teacher-from-a-movie types, maybe they’d come… but that’s unlikely.

Most teachers wouldn’t go patrolling this late at night over something as small as a few students buying cigarettes.

“So what’s the point of this then!”

“The point isn’t whether your homeroom teacher comes or not. The point is your homeroom teacher now knows those students were secretly buying cigarettes.”

“This…!”

I patted the kid on the shoulder and said,

“Then the next day, you can enjoy the show of your homeroom teacher chewing them out. They’ll probably say something like, ‘Don’t lie to me! I saw you guys yesterday!’”

“This, you… are you telling me to lie to both sides?”

“That’s the process, but looking at the result, your lie will become the truth.”

“Yeah…! That could work!”

The kid’s face lit up with excitement.

Simple information asymmetry. As the middleman, this kid can add or omit information as he pleases, turning lies into truth.

And as the teacher, they probably wouldn’t rat the kid out…

Wait, not necessarily. If their teacher is the super rigid, by-the-book type, they might even drag the kid out and say to the class, ‘Everyone should learn from XXX,’ which would actually push him straight into the line of bullying.

Hmm… Well, there’s always risk either way.

Since I don’t know what the homeroom teacher is like, it’s down to the kid’s luck.

“I’m just throwing ideas out there. If you don’t want to do it, you can go buy cigarettes somewhere else. Probably won’t run into another nosy clerk like me, heh heh.”

“I… I’ll try it!”

“Alright, good luck.”

“Yeah! If it works, I’ll come back and tell you, bro!”

“I’ll be waiting. Oh, but I’m only on the night shift.”

“Okay! Ah, right! Bro, what’s your name?”

“I’ll tell you after you succeed.”

“…Alright! I got this! I’ll definitely succeed!”

The kid gave a determined look and ran out of the store excitedly.

“…”

If this little plan I just casually came up with works, then I’ve done a great deed. The kid gains the punks’ trust, raises his status, and can secretly enjoy watching them get yelled at.

But if it fails…

“Not my problem either.”

That’s right.

This is another reason I can keep doing this gig.

People who come to the convenience store this late at night might carry stories.

From their expressions and actions, I can pick up on their thoughts.

From their eyes, words, and little gestures, I can interpret what’s going on inside their heads.

Watching people like this, learning their stories, and occasionally offering advice—I find the whole process really interesting.

It’s one of my few hobbies, aside from drawing.

But people who come to the convenience store late at night are few and far between, and even fewer have interesting stories.

After that kid, no one else came until two in the morning.

Hmm… maybe I should learn bartending and work at a bar instead… places with interesting people tend to gather at bars…

As I was pondering this and that, the convenience store’s automatic door opened again.

And then…

She walked in.

“Excuse me… do you sell rope here?”