Chapter 8: A Tragic Confluence of Convenience

As we ate—the beef perfectly tender, the cabbage a crisp, savory counterpoint, the spice building comfortably—the events of the day felt like a distant, bad movie.

“So,” Mia said between bites, her energy slowly returning with the food. “How’d the slime-clearing go? Any new… stains?” She gestured vaguely at me with her chopstick.

“Well,” I said, adopting a ponderous tone, “as the newly minted ‘Logistics Adjutant’—which is just a fancy way of saying ‘the Association’s Janitor’—I’d say it went… little good.”

“Little good?”

“Little good,” I affirmed. “Made some new acquaintances. A guy who hits things really hard once, then gets tired. A lady who throws knives. Their friend, who… let’s just say had a wardrobe malfunction courtesy of the local wildlife.”

Mia snorted, covering her mouth. “You’re making this up.”

“I wish.” I took a bite, savoring the rich flavor. “Made the gate clearing more… ‘eventful.’ I might need a new pair of pants, though. Ones less susceptible to… enzymatic digestion.”

We fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft scrape of chopsticks on plates. This was the ritual. The debrief. The unwinding.

“This really is amazing,” Mia mumbled, her mouth full. She’d polished off half her plate already. “You cook everything like it’s from one of those food dramas. The meat is so thin. And crispy on the edges.”

“It’s all in the wrist,” I said, waving my chopsticks dismissively. “And having the grip strength of a low-level supervillain.” I decided not to mention the soul-stealing part.

She finished her food, pushing the plate away with a contented sigh. The weariness was still there, but it was softer now, cushioned by a full stomach and warmth. “Seriously, though. You’re too good at this for a gate-clearer.”

“And you’re too smart for this dump,” I shot back lightly. “But here we are. A symbiotic relationship of horrible life choices.”

She smiled, a real one this time, tired but genuine. “I’m not hoping a gate spawns beside us, you know. Even if it would save you the commute.”

I laughed. “Trust me, neither am I. A gate spawning here would mean our security deposit is definitely forfeit. And I kinda like having a roof. Even this one.”

We cleaned up in silence, a well-practiced dance in the tiny kitchenette. The fear from the sewer, the lingering mystery of the woman from Crimson Scale, the echo of that scream… it all faded against the simple, solid reality of washing dishes with my sister.

This was the true application of my stolen powers, I thought, drying a plate with [Three Times Grip Strength] to prevent any water spots. Not for glory. Not for climbing ranks. Just for this.

“Alright,” I announced, folding the dish towel with unnecessary precision. “The decree has been handed down. You. Sleep. Early. Today. Even though you don’t have morning classes on Wednesday, your brain needs to marinate in something other than quadratic equations.”

Mia was already dragging her monstrous backpack toward the small fold-out desk she used. “I will,” she said, her voice taking on that particular teenage tone. “After I finish the homework. I’m going to the park with friends tomorrow after school. Can’t have homework hanging over me.”

“Ahhh,” I sighed, nodding sagely. “The youth. Prioritizing social engagements over academic responsibility.”

“You’re still a teenager, dummy,” she retorted, pulling out a thick science textbook. “But you have a face that could be an S-Rank. Very… protagonist-y. When you’re not making that grumpy, I-smell-like-sewage face.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new one. ‘Protagonist-y.’ I’ll add it to my resume.”

She chuckled, then her expression shifted into practiced innocence. “Speaking of tomorrow… can you… maybe… give me a little money? For the park? Just for some bubble tea or something.”

I pulled out a few crisp bills and placed them on the table next to her workbook. “Don’t worry about it. I got it covered.”

Her smile wasn’t bright or teasing. It was small, soft, and full of deep gratitude. “Thanks, Oppa,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Finish up,” I repeated. I turned and headed for my partitioned bed area. “Goodnight, Mia.”

“Goodnight, Oppa,” she replied, the scratch of her pencil starting up.

I pulled the curtain closed and lay down on the thin mattress. To fund a little bit of normalcy. To buy a few hours in the park. For an E-Rank nobody with a stolen, half-power soul-stealing ability… this was as close to victory as it got. Sleep came easily.

Across the Han River, in the more residential district of Mapo, the trio had a home. Not a gosiwon, but an actual, modest two-story house with a small, tidy yard.

They were gathered in the cozy, low-lit living room, sitting on comfortable floor mats around a short, lacquered table. Lindis, now clad in comfortable pajamas, her pink hair tied in a messy bun, held a bowl of rice in one hand. She pointed her chopsticks accusingly at Zane.

“So,” she said, her voice still a bit rough. “Let me get this straight one more time. That guy. The one who looked like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. The one with the face of a man calculating his exact overtime pay while standing in monster guts… he charged into a slime spawning pit to help save me?”

Kaela, seated beside her sister, sighed. “Yes, Lindis. For the fifth time. Why is this so hard to believe? He was there. He helped.”

“I know he was there!” Lindis insisted, gesturing with her chopsticks. “I saw him throwing a slime! I’m not disputing the physical evidence! I’m disputing the… the motive! Looking at him, it feels like he’s not the type to be… heroic. He had the aura of a very efficient, very annoyed office plant.”

Zane chuckled around a mouthful of pork belly. “This is gonna be interesting.”

Kaela leaned forward, a playful glint in her eye. “Oho? Then what is he, oh wise and recently-dissolved one?”

Lindis tapped her chopsticks thoughtfully against her bowl, her blue eyes serious.

“Okay, picture this,” she began, her tone suitably dramatic. “He’s the guy who finds a wallet on the street. Not out of kindness, but because he’s already running late and figuring out what to do with a lost wallet is less stressful than the karmic backlash of ignoring it. He’s the person who only does the right thing when the alternative is slightly more inconvenient than doing the right thing.”

She took a triumphant bite of rice.

“So you’re saying,” Kaela summarized, smirking, “he’s just… a person minding his own business?”

“Exactly!” Lindis said, pointing her chopsticks at Kaela in victory. “A magnificent, glorious, sarcastic mind-his-own-business-er! Who, through a tragic confluence of being in the wrong place… got dragged into our mess. Honestly, I feel a little bad for him. We probably ruined his whole ‘aimless loitering’ schedule.”

The three of them laughed, the tension of the day finally dissolving completely in the warmth of their shared home.

“Well,” Zane said, raising his glass of barley tea. “Whatever his reasons, I’m glad our ‘gloriously sarcastic bystander’ was there. To Ethan, the Reluctant Rescue.”

“To Ethan,” Kaela echoed, clinking her glass. “May his pants remain unstained, and his desire to not be involved stay strong.”

Lindis clinked her glass last, a thoughtful look on her face. “To Ethan. The most confusing E-Ranker I’ve ever almost been eaten next to.”

They drank, the comfortable silence settling back over them. In another part of the city, their strange, temporary ally was already asleep, completely unaware he was the subject of a post-mission roast session—and completely unaware of just how many more inconveniences were now headed his way.

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Author’s Notes:

"Hey everyone! 

I know, I know—this wasn't on the official upload schedule! Usually, I’m as strict about my deadlines as Ethan is about his security deposit, but I woke up feeling extra kind today. Consider this a little surprise 'bonus chapter' for all the wonderful readers following along.

I honestly had too much fun writing this domestic transition. There is something so satisfying about jumping from the visceral, slime-covered chaos of a Gate to the quiet, rhythmic comfort of a home-cooked meal and sibling bickering. I think it really highlights the stakes for Ethan; he isn't fighting for the top of the leaderboard or some grand prophecy—he's fighting for the right to keep Mia in school and ensure she has bubble tea money. That 'small' motivation is often the most powerful one, don't you think?

Also, can we talk about the trio's 'post-game analysis'? I absolutely love the dynamic between Lindis, Kaela, and Zane. Calling Ethan a 'magnificent, glorious, sarcastic mind-his-own-business-er' is probably the most accurate description of him in the entire story so far. It’s funny how he sees himself as a ghost in the machine, yet he's leaving these strange, confusing impressions on everyone he meets.

Thank you all for the incredible support and for riding along on this journey of reluctant heroism and enzymatic digestion. Enjoy the extra content, stay cozy, and I'll see you in the next scheduled update!