TTAS 01

Chapter : 01 I Was Murdered by the Butterfly I Trusted

The world is a harsh place for those who have nothing.

For me, who has no memory of my parents from childhood, every day is a continuous cycle of pain and hardship.

Today, just like yesterday, I live the same life—so much so that I sometimes wonder whether I’m human or a hamster. I am Min Woo-hyuk, a 20-year-old job seeker.

Clatter.

“Hey. Why are you spacing out while working? If you don’t hurry, you won’t finish on time.”

While trying to ease the boredom of manual labor, I must have drifted into thoughts and ended up stopping my hands, lamenting my life.

“Yes. I’ll hurry.”

At the sharp remark of the man working with me, I answered loudly and resumed carrying boxes.

After working until dawn—loading, unloading, and sorting parcels—I dragged my exhausted body onto the shuttle bus.

The highway before sunrise was filled with silence.

Not a single person spoke, and no one even looked at anyone else.

Everyone was too exhausted to care about their surroundings, and there was no one close enough to talk to anyway.

It felt like we were machines without souls—gathering at a set time, pouring our bodies and spirits into assigned labor, then returning empty.

I too was one of those soulless machines, so I kept my mouth shut and stared out the dark window.

After a long ride, I got off near my rented room and headed to a milk distribution station.

Creeeak.

Pushing open the rusty iron door, I lowered my head.

“Good morning, boss.”

“Late today, aren’t you?”

The large man with a drooping belly that seemed like evidence of greed didn’t even return my greeting and immediately scolded me for being late.

“There was an accident on the way. A crashed car blocked the road, so the shuttle bus couldn’t arrive on time. I’m late because of that. I’ll make up for it by working faster. I’ll start right away.”

Even with my fact-based excuse, the manager’s expression didn’t soften.

“Hurry up. If there are complaints about late deliveries, I’ll cut your pay.”

“Don’t worry. Everything will be delivered on time.”

Even while talking, I moved my body, loaded all assigned milk onto the delivery motorcycle, and tried to reassure the manager, who was staring at me suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

“Boss, if there are any complaint calls, I’ll give up this month’s salary, so don’t worry too much.”

“You better keep that promise.”

Only then did his expression relax.

“I’ll head out now.”

I greeted him while getting on the motorcycle, but all I received in return was a dismissive wave.

That careless gesture telling me to leave made something in my chest ache, but this wasn’t the time for useless emotions.

If deliveries were late, I would have to forfeit my salary, so I quickly rode off.

Vroom.

The number of households for milk delivery varied by day, but it was usually around a hundred.

It wasn’t a large number, but it was a part-time job I could do between parcel loading work and my next job, so I was satisfied with it.

I moved quickly through the neighborhood, placing milk into bags hanging on gates or door handles, and within two hours I completed all deliveries.

Fortunately, the manager’s worries did not come true.

Because I worked faster than usual, everything was delivered on time, so there would be no complaint calls from customers.

Creeeak.

When I parked the motorcycle in front of the distribution center and went inside, the manager looked at me.

“It looks like I missed a chance to cut labor costs. Guess you had no intention of working for free.”

Even though there were no complaints, his tone was cold.

It seemed he would have preferred if I had been late so he could save money.

“If I’m even a little late, the phone blows up. I have to hurry. I won’t be late tomorrow. Thank you for your work.”

Leaving behind the manager’s cold face, I headed to my next workplace.

As always, there was no response to my greeting.

Ding-a-ling.

The final workplace was the convenience store in front of my house.

When I opened the door, the manager’s face appeared, worn out with exhaustion.

He said he had worked at a small-to-medium company for about ten years after graduating college before being laid off.

With his severance pay, a few months’ salary, savings, and unemployment benefits, he opened this convenience store.

It was in a residential area, so he expected good profits, but reality was harsh.

Soon after, another convenience store opened nearby, competition began, and with declining sales, he started working night shifts himself to save labor costs.

“You’re here? Finished delivering the milk? Must be tough working overnight and then delivering too. Even I’m too tired to keep my eyes open.”

Looking at me with half-closed eyes, he spoke. In him, I could see a future version of myself.

I shook my head to dispel the ominous thought and replied.

“You can go inside. I’ll take over now.”

The manager was already ready to leave, bag on his shoulder, as if he had been waiting for me all day.

“Alright. Then I’ll leave it to you. My sister Suyeon will come in the afternoon. It’s hard to find workers these days.”

With that, he waved and walked away slowly, his back looking strangely lonely.

The convenience store, built with his entire fortune, was struggling with poor sales, and he still hadn’t been able to find another employee, relying instead on his younger sister. It felt like the face of a struggling breadwinner of this era.

I had no right to speak, jumping between part-time jobs and worrying about rent and bills, but unlike him, I had the advantage of time. I resolved to live a slightly better life.

Ding-a-ling.

The bell rang, signaling a customer had entered, and a woman in her mid-twenties came in.

“Welcome.”

The woman looked around the store left and right, then approached the counter.

“One pack of Himalaya.”

A short, clear order.

It would have been better if it had been a more complete three-word sentence, I thought, but since I understood exactly what she wanted, I turned around and grabbed the item from the display behind the counter.

I placed a blue cigarette pack on the counter and said,

“May I see your ID?”

For a moment, her eyes turned sharp, then shifted back to annoyance.

“It’s required for verification. You don’t seem underage, but please still show it.”

“What?”

Her eyes sharpened again.

“Are you saying I look old?”

She misunderstood.

“That’s not it. You look like you’re in your mid-twenties. You definitely don’t look old.”

I waved my hands to explain, but anger began to rise in her expression.

“This is ridiculous. Where exactly do I look mid-twenties? Are your eyes just decorations?”

Thud.

A ID card slipped from her wallet and fell onto the counter.

It must have been dropped by accident while taking it out.

She definitely hadn’t thrown it.

Watching her closely, I picked up the ID and checked it.

Her age was exactly twenty.

“You checked it? Or are your eyes decorations too and can’t see numbers?”

I could see it very clearly.

And my eyes are not decorations.

After checking the ID, I looked at her again.

She definitely looked like she was in her mid-twenties.

But resolving the injustice of being called blind was less important than calming her anger.

“I’m sorry, customer. My eyesight is bad, I made a mistake. I’m sorry. And I confirm that you are an adult.”

I bowed my head.

I was sorry to my own eyes for using that excuse without glasses, but I had no choice but to apologize before she got even more upset.

She snatched back her ID and then dropped her card.

“Pay for it.”

Calling herself clumsy, I picked up the card and completed the payment.

“Hey. Keep your eyes open when you work.”

As she put the card and cigarettes into her bag, she gave me advice.

Then she muttered,

“I’m annoyed. I’m never coming back.”

And just like that, another customer was lost.

If the manager heard, he would definitely be hurt, so I decided to bury the incident in my heart.

Convenience stores don’t only have good customers.

Various so-called “problem customers” constantly tested me, but I wore a customer-service smile and handled them.

That was my job, and what I was paid for.

In the afternoon, the manager’s younger sister, Suyeon, came in.

After handing over the shift to her, I returned to my rented room, my shelter, and exhaustion flooded my entire body.

Dragging my heavy body as if a bear were sitting on my shoulders, I headed to the bathroom.

I planned to soak in hot water to relieve my fatigue.

Ssshhhhh.

Watching warm water pour into the tub already made me feel a little better.

While the tub filled, I went into the room and took care of my pet cat, “Nabi.”

Though she didn’t even look at me when I came home, she was my only family, so I couldn’t neglect her.

After pouring food into her bowl and replacing her water, only then did she start moving.

After briefly watching her glossy black fur, I undressed and headed to the bathroom.

Splash.

“Ugh…”

A groan escaped.

My whole body felt like it was melting.

At this moment, I felt like I was the luckiest person in the world.

Lying in the tub, letting my fatigue sink away, I was soon reminded of reality’s bleakness.

Three part-time jobs a day.

While others slept peacefully, I was sweating through my life.

I had given up college and entered society to live better, but I was still just a job seeker.

I wanted to escape the life of loneliness where no one welcomed me anywhere, but no opportunity for change came easily.

The thought that happiness might not exist in my future, that no matter how hard I tried I might never achieve it, slowly turned hope into despair.

Meow.

A familiar sound reached my ears.

Nabi had entered the bathroom, perhaps after finishing her meal, coming to find me.

Meow.

Standing on the cabinet beside the sink, showing off her glossy black fur, Nabi looked down at me.

“Nabi, did you come looking for me?”

Nabi narrowed her eyes.

After staring at me for a moment, her attention shifted elsewhere.

A white L-shaped machine.

The hair dryer.

“Did I forget to put it away yesterday?”

I also noticed the white cord attached to it.

Instead of being properly wrapped, it was stretched out and plugged into the outlet.

“Why is that plugged in?”

I must have been too tired to clean it up properly.

Thud.

Nabi placed her paw on the hair dryer.

She had found a new toy.

“Nabi!”

Meow?

The hair dryer, which had been precariously placed on the cabinet, began to fall due to Nabi’s rough movements.

“N-no!”

Meow!

I quickly stood up and reached out toward the falling hair dryer.

Tap.

But my reaction, dulled by exhaustion from labor, was too slow.

The hair dryer slipped past my hand.

Splash.

It fell into the bathtub.

The sound echoed like thunder, and everything seemed to stop.

In that instant, countless memories flashed through my mind.

I had wanted to succeed, to live a proud and successful life—but it seemed my life would end here.

At the hands of my beloved pet cat, Nabi.