As Giju Wishes Chapter 3.10

Then, just as he was finishing his Jjajangmyeon, Giju broke the silence and opened his mouth.

“Where do we have money?”

When they packed their things, they hadn’t brought Choi Geon’s bag. And no matter how much he thought about it, it didn’t seem likely his friend would have carried money in his pockets while working in the fields.

“Might as well just broadcast to the whole world that we have no money.”

As soon as Giju’s words were out, the sharp-eared chef rushed over to their table. He then looked down at Choi Geon and Giju with a blank expression.

But even in that situation, Choi Geon was by no means intimidated.

“Watch carefully, Shin Giju. In the digital age, money is everywhere.”

On the contrary, he stood up confidently with a jut of his chin.

“Ahem, could I borrow your phone, sir? I’ll wire you double the amount.”

The chef stared intently at Choi Geon before handing over his phone. Choi Geon, who received the phone triumphantly, immediately went to the internet. No, he tried to. Until he saw something displayed on the screen.

[Not connected to a network.]

Choi Geon, experiencing cognitive dissonance, frantically refreshed the page. But nothing changed.

“Why is the internet… so shitty….”

Stiffening, Choi Geon thought for a moment, then immediately closed the internet window and pressed the dialer. He could just call his family and ask.

010-7412-8….

He was diligently pressing the numbers when his finger stopped in mid-air. As luck would have it, he couldn’t remember the number. It was always saved in his phone, so there was never a need to memorize it.

The chef glanced at the frozen Choi Geon, then, as if grasping the situation, snatched the phone back.

“Geon…?”

“You guys don’t have money.”

“Uh… well, we usually have money, but we had to come down from the mountain suddenly while working in the fields… Ah, a wild boar chased us, so we were running for our lives and left our phones and clothes behind. I’m sorry, but would it be okay if I go home tomorrow and send you the money? And I’m really, really sorry, but if you could let us sleep here too, I’ll pay for the lodging as well. I’ll leave my friend here as collateral, so you don’t have to worry about us skipping out on the bill.”

Ignoring Choi Geon’s glare, Giju, having realized they had no money, explained eagerly. He thought the chef would surely understand if he told him their unavoidable circumstances. He had even offered collateral, so there was no problem.

“We’ve lived really honest and clean lives. My friend even has a lot of fortune, so he has a lot of money.”

Giju chattered on, trying to build trust. And the chef, Mr. Park, fell into thought as he looked at the two impoverished-looking beggars who didn’t seem to possess any fortune whatsoever.

“The motorcycle.”

Mr. Park turned his head towards the motorcycle Choi Geon had pointed at.

“We’ll pay for the Jjajangmyeon and lodging with that.”

It looked old, but selling it would more than cover the cost. However, Mr. Park was not foolish enough to accept stolen goods of unclear origin. But he didn’t particularly want to hand them over to the police either. The image of Giju ravenously eating the Jjajangmyeon stuck in his mind.

“Hah… just call the police, please. We’re broke as hell right now, so if we can just get our numbers at the police station, we’ll get the money,”

“No.”

Having made up his mind, Mr. Park cut Choi Geon off and spoke.

“Excuse me?”

“I will not accept payment for the Jjajangmyeon and lodging. Instead.”

Mr. Park gestured toward the motorcycle with his chin.

“You’ll pay with that.”

🔖⛩️📿

Rattle, rattle, rattle-

A continuous rattling sound came from the motorcycle, which was in poor condition.

Thwack!

Choi Geon, who manually fixed it with a kick, opened his mouth with a face like a rotten pollock.

“Fuck.”

Cursing into the fresh breeze, Choi Geon entered the town center, the oasis he had so longed for yesterday. With the motorcycle, Shin Giju, and the Jjajangmyeon loaded in the delivery case. Choi Geon was now making a delivery.

“The Jjajangmyeon is going to get soggy, let’s go faster.”

Giju, riding behind him, shook his shoulder, urging him on. For a moment, a crazy thought crossed his mind: maybe, just maybe, Dobongsan was better.

The sky, cleared of rain, was cloudless and bright. And here he was, delivering Jjajangmyeon in tattered clothes. Riding behind him was a moron with clear psycho tendencies.

Choi Geon couldn’t understand one bit why he was making a delivery right now. The internet, right. It just so happened that there was internet installation work going on, so the internet could be down in this area. The phone number? He could forget it. But there were plenty of other ways. It would have all ended if he had called a public agency and asked. That’s why he had suggested going to the police station as a last resort.

But the chef, as if he’d eaten something strange, suddenly started spouting some weird bullshit about taking them in.

‘I told you to call the police…?’

‘There’s no need to be ashamed. It’s not a crime to be broke.’

‘No, no, what’s with this guy.’

‘Our deliveries start at 9. Go to bed early.’

‘No, I’ll just go to the police sta-’

‘Yes, thank you!’

Shin Giju had readily accepted, saying it was a great idea. Just like that, their lodging suddenly became a labor camp. He was about to lose it and hit the chef just to get to a police station, but then Shin Giju said.

‘Geon, I have to perform the memorial rites.’

They say humans are creatures of adaptation, and as the shitty situation continued, he adapted to the shittiness. No, his personality just became shitty. One wrong move and someone was going to die today.

“Still, it’s over after today, right, Geon?”

Giju said, leaning his head on Choi Geon’s shoulder. To Giju, the chef, Mr. Park, was an extremely gracious person. He had given them a place to sleep and food without taking any money. Of course, they were working as payment, but he had even offered them to continue working there if they had nowhere else to go. Naturally, Choi Geon almost grabbed the back of his neck and fainted when he heard that.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“With this much bad luck, I think even a god would get pissed off and take away his protection.”

If he were to fall into a ditch now, Shin Giju would live, and unlucky him would pass out and be sold off as a slave somewhere again.

“I didn’t know, but they say that shrine was never opened before. You were the first. That’s how sacred and powerful the deity is.”

“Then why can’t he stop us from doing deliveries.”

“You can just think of it as deliveries instead of a lightning strike.”

Choi Geon glanced back.

“…Hah. …I should have beaten him yesterday.”

He should have beaten him to a pulp on that rainy day, but it was ruined by that goddamn Chinese restaurant. Choi Geon let out a deep sigh of regret and stopped in front of a multi-family house.

“I’ll go first!”

It had been nearly six hours since they started delivering. Perhaps because it was the only Chinese restaurant in the neighborhood, there was a surprising amount of demand for delivery. Giju, who had gotten somewhat used to the work, took the Jjajangmyeon and pickled radish out of the delivery case and cheerfully entered the building.

And Choi Geon, with a not-at-all cheerful face, got off the motorcycle. Then, carrying the whole delivery case, he headed to the hardware store next to the multi-family house like a debt collector going to collect an overdue payment.

Ding-dong-

Giju, who pressed the bell for unit 302, pressed it once more with a slightly urgent expression. He was worried the Jjajangmyeon would get soggy because of the long distance.

Click-

Just then, the rusty iron door opened and a fat man appeared with a face full of dissatisfaction.

“Hello. You ordered Jjajangmyeon, right? Here you are.”

Giju, who bowed at the waist, smiled and handed over the Jjajangmyeon.

“Where’s the Jjampong broth?”

The man, who took the Jjajangmyeon a beat late, asked.

“Ah, we don’t give that when you only order one Jjajangmyeon.”

It was a line he had already prepared. The man didn’t respond, simply threw the money down, and slammed the door shut.

“Enjoy your meal!”

Giju, who said his farewell to the closed door, didn’t feel too bad about the man throwing the money, filled with the pride of having completed another delivery. It would all come back as karma later anyway, so it didn’t matter. He nonchalantly picked up the money and was heading down the stairs when he heard the door open behind him.

Click.

“Hey!”

A shouting voice called out to him. Giju stopped and turned to look at the man who had just received the Jjajangmyeon.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Come here.”

Thinking maybe the delivery was wrong, he approached with a puzzled expression, when something suddenly flew at his face.

Smack!

“Hey you bastard, are these noodles all soggy? You think I can eat this shit?! You bring me a new one. Got it?!”

The man who had thrown the Jjajangmyeon at Giju muttered curses and slammed the door shut. The still-warm Jjajangmyeon ran down Giju’s cheek and chest and onto the cement floor.

His chest heaved as he gasped for breath. At first, he was surprised, and then he was angry. It wasn’t just about being hit; he was angry that the food, made with care, was treated like trash in an instant. If this had been the school, he would have screamed at the man to apologize before he got struck by lightning as karma. But this was the first time he had experienced such abuse while being in debt, so he was just flustered and felt wronged, not knowing what to do.

He wanted to tell him not to do that, but since the man said the noodles were soggy, he had nothing to say. Giju, seething, looked down at the scattered Jjajangmyeon, then squatted down and began picking the noodles up and putting them into the empty bowl. Then, he picked up a noodle and put it in his mouth.

“They’re not soggy at all….”

Muttering at the waste of the delicious Jjajangmyeon, Giju stood up and, with dejected steps, walked down the stairs. Outside, Choi Geon was sitting on the motorcycle, starting the engine.

“Geon….”

Already a mess, Giju, now looking even more like a beggar with Jjajang sauce on his face, called out to Choi Geon resentfully.

“What the hell, why do you look like that.”

Choi Geon, who had spotted Giju and turned off the engine, got off the motorcycle with a frown.

“I gave him the Jjajangmyeon, but he said the noodles were soggy and told me to bring him a new one… but I just tried it, and they weren’t that soggy? I think it’s because I didn’t give him the Jjampong broth,”

“No, I’m asking why your face is like that.”

Choi Geon asked with a frighteningly serious expression. He didn’t care whether the Jjajangmyeon was soggy or not. He wanted to know why Shin Giju showed up in that state.

“He said it was soggy… and I got hit with the Jjajangmyeon.”

“What the fuck?”

For a moment, Choi Geon thought he had heard wrong.

“The Jjajangmyeon, no, fuck, what did you say happened?”

Choi Geon, who had never been hit by anyone except during exorcisms, couldn’t comprehend the premise of being hit with Jjajangmyeon and asked again.