Chapter 37: Eggs, Tteokbokki, and Unlikely Companions

Gajunsik awkwardly stepped aside to give up his seat.

The gothic lolita elementary school girl, wearing a blank expression, tidied up the desk and opened a workbook.

He sneaked a peek. It wasn’t for middle schoolers. It was a study book meant for test-takers.

A kid that young solving problems like that?

Though surprised, Gajunsik decided to focus on the game for now.

As a seasoned visual novel master, he knew exactly what to do in this situation: apologize first.

Making a mistake and using it as an excuse to break the ice was a classic cliché in visual novels.

“Sorry for touching your stuff.”

“Apologies are just spoken words nowadays, huh?”

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

“Does this lady seem like someone who clings to material possessions? If your apology were sincere, you would’ve introduced yourself by now.”

Huh?

Caught off guard by how natural the conversation felt, Gajunsik scrambled to respond.

“Oh, uh, I’m Gajunsik.”

“Junshik. A fine name.”

The gothic lolita elementary schooler gave a short reply and went back to solving problems.

Gajunsik stared blankly and sat back down in his seat.

Then, he paused the game.

“What the heck just happened?”

[How are we supposed to know? Lol]
[That didn’t feel like a game at all.]
[Why is the NPC reacting like that?]

“Could it not be an NPC?”

NPC, or non-player character, refers to a game character not controlled by a person. If it wasn’t an NPC, that could only mean one thing: there was a person behind it.

“Yurim? Is that you?”

There was no response.

It was common for indie game developers to engage with players through donations or chat interactions, but this kind of complete silence was unusual.

“Are you telling me this is AI? AI’s advanced a lot, but it hasn’t gotten this smart, has it?”

[This kind of thing was technically possible before AI development too, lol. It’s just that no one bothered because it’s so time-consuming.]

Fair enough. Interactions in games are ultimately about input and output. As long as appropriate responses are generated for every possible input, anyone could create AI that felt incredibly lifelike.

It’s just that nobody did it because time isn’t infinite.

“So, what’s the deal with a little kid being in a cram school?”

[Ask her, lol.]

“Should I?”

Resuming the game, Gajunsik addressed the gothic lolita elementary schooler again.

“I told you my name, so why won’t you tell me yours?”

“This lady is Han Yurim.”

“Han…”

He paused the game again.

It was baffling.

“Why does she have the same name as Han Yurim?”

[It’s not just the name; even her design looks identical to the VTuber avatar, lol.]

[Han Yurim’s original character was Thierry, right? That’s why the VTuber avatar looks a lot like Thierry, and now this elementary schooler looks like Thierry too.]

Thierry?

Gajunsik loved Eternal World. Even when his viewers begged him to stop, he consistently used Eternal World as his content. Naturally, he was familiar with Thierry.

Though the character appeared younger and had a unique outfit and way of speaking, a closer look confirmed it—it really was a younger version of Thierry.

“You’re deeply devoted to Thierry, huh?”

[Not as much as your obsession with Eternal World, though.]

Gajunsik wondered about her role. Since she was an elementary schooler, she likely wasn’t a romanceable character. Could she be an Easter egg?

It seemed plausible. For now, he decided to keep playing.

Resuming the game, Gajunsik spoke.
“That’s a nice name.”

“If one merely parrots my compliment, what impression does that leave on me?”

For a moment, he almost hit the pause button again, but he realized reacting to every single detail would make progressing through the game impossible.

Trying to act normal, he asked a question that piqued his curiosity.
“Why are you here? Is one of your parents a tutor at this academy?”

“If I were a parent, I wouldn’t leave my child in such a dreary place all day.”

“Then what’s the reason?”

“The Gifted Student Promotion Act. A special law removing the age restriction for GED exams. Thanks to that, I am a beneficiary.”

“There’s a law like that?”

He thought it might just be a game mechanic, but according to the chat, it was a real law passed about two years ago.

[The world’s going downhill.]

Gajunsik clicked his tongue in disapproval, but Han Yurim responded.

“A broken world calls for drastic measures.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m in fifth grade this year.”

“Why are you so mature?”

At his comment, Han Yurim shook her head.

“Judging people by their age is foolish. What matters is the depth and quality of one’s thoughts, not their age, as you should well know, Junshik.”

“I don’t know that.”

“With that mindset, you won’t achieve much on this year’s CSAT. Have you already given up on the promise to enter Korea University with me?”

“I never made such a promise.”

Gajunsik glanced under her chair. Her tiny legs, not even touching the floor, swung back and forth incessantly—completely at odds with her calm demeanor.

No matter how mature she seemed, she was still a kid. Living and studying alongside peers almost seven years older must be overwhelming.

Having someone to talk to seemed to lift Gajunsik’s mood. Without realizing it, he habitually raised his hand toward Han Yurim. She, however, kept her eyes on her workbook and spoke calmly.

“I’ll warn you now—touch my head, and you’ll learn just how loud my voice can get.”

“You catch on quick.”

“How many people do you think have tried to touch my head before?”

She had an unexpectedly cute side to her, Gajunsik thought. Judging by her tone, it must have happened quite a lot.

Han Yurim offered her advice in a serious voice.

“If you pat your girlfriend’s head like that, you’ll be labeled an otaku. Be careful.”

“Kid heads are fine, though.”

“You should consider taking memory pills first. Judging people by age is foolish—or have you forgotten that already? Oh, wait—”

Before she could finish, Gajunsik gave in to temptation and ruffled her hair. It was less of a pat and more of a playful mess-up, but it did the trick—he felt significantly better afterward.

With a sigh, Han Yurim tidied her hair and declared,
“From now on, I request you maintain a distance of at least one meter from me. Beasts who fail to listen to others have no place nearby.”

“I’ll buy you tteokbokki and fritters.”

“A tribute, you say? That changes things.”

Ah, kids. Nothing a plate of tteokbokki can’t fix.

“Should I get you a slushie too?”

“You might want to choose your words wisely. I understand what you mean because I’m clever, but most kids these days wouldn’t get it.”

“…You’re telling me kids don’t know what slushies are?”

“You’re 19, right? A repeat student. And yet you sound like you’re 30.”

Gajunsik froze as her spot-on guess about his age left him speechless. Han Yurim smirked, pointing her pen at him.

“Even with a smaller body, my brain remains that of a great detective.”

“Do kids these days even get that reference?”

“Tsk tsk. On the contrary, kids know it better than anyone. Why do you think the target audience for the movie series is children?”

This was news to him.

Ding-dong. The school bell rang. It was time for class.

The instructor entered, and the lecture began. Just as Gajunsik thought, Do I really have to sit through all this? the screen transitioned.

It was now lunchtime.

At least the game had some mercy.

“Tteokbokki, tteokbokki~”

Next to him, Han Yurim was cheerfully humming an impromptu tune about tteokbokki. Gajunsik sighed to himself.

So, when does the heroine appear? It can’t possibly be this kid, right?

“Junshik.”

Han Yurim spoke with an air of authority, her expression unusually serious.

Gajunsik replied nonchalantly,

“Your command, milady?”

“I’m hungry.”

“You can’t handle spicy food, right?”

“I am a tteokbokki fundamentalist who regards traditional market-style tteokbokki as the gold standard. Those modern capsaicin-drenched abominations? Not food.”

Gajunsik chuckled, pulling out his phone to check nearby restaurants.

He was, after all, a person of the market tteokbokki era. Just a glance at a photo was enough for him to discern which places served the authentic taste of his youth.

“There’s a good spot nearby. Let’s go.”

“Squid tempura, shrimp tempura too,” Han Yurim eagerly added.

At the eatery, Gajunsik ordered four servings of tteokbokki and three portions of tempura. It didn’t take long for the food to arrive, and Han Yurim was immediately impressed.

“How do you fit all that in your skinny frame?”

“Surprisingly high muscle mass.”

“Men thrive on bluster, don’t they?”

Ignoring the jab, Gajunsik picked up an egg with his chopsticks. He carefully blew on it, popped it into his mouth, and let the spicy flavor bloom.

The rich, MSG-laden sauce clung to the egg, just like the nostalgic market-style he remembered. The flavor brought back memories, and he couldn’t help but reach for another egg.

This place even knows how to boil eggs perfectly.

His appetite ignited, Gajunsik instinctively grabbed yet another egg. That’s when he noticed Han Yurim staring at him.

What’s with that look?

She muttered softly, almost to herself,
“I was saving that egg…”

Her lips pursed into a pout, and her tone dropped its usual grandeur. This was an emergency.

Panicking, Gajunsik raised his hand and called out,
“Auntie, can we get 10 more boiled eggs, please?”

“That’s way too many!”

“Okay, just five! I’m sorry!”

Managing to defuse the situation, Gajunsik wiped his brow. His long history of eating alone had led to some sociopathic dining habits, apparently.

Meanwhile, a girl with blue hair at a nearby table shrieked. It seemed she had forgotten her wallet. Seriously? How does a young person not use NFC payments these days? Talk about outdated.

“Here are your five eggs!”

“Thanks!”

Even though the blue-haired girl looked like she was in trouble, Gajunsik focused on the task at hand. He handed the eggs to Han Yurim, saying,

“Come on, cheer up. It’s my bad—I’ve been eating alone too long during exam prep.”

“Don’t worry. I’m magnanimous. It’s already forgotten,” she replied, munching happily on the eggs.

Watching her enjoy herself, Gajunsik couldn’t help but smile. But then a thought struck him, and he tilted his head.

So… when is the heroine going to show up?