Report
* * *
Griffin Scans
Translator – Hero of death
Proofreader – Sleepyhead
Join our discord for updates on releases!
https://discord.com/invite/jgjn3MAeBX
* * *
Chapter 4- The Suspicious Client (3)
"Oh… The more I look, the more impressed I am."
While showing off the G.I. Commando figures he'd been working on, Yoon Tae-jun listened as the old man wolfed down his jajangmyeon and spoke between bites.
"Do you like them?"
"Of course. They exceed my expectations."
"I'm glad to hear that. I was a bit worried you might think the paint job was too flashy…"
"This one's quite an amusing fellow. Yes… Just as interesting as the one I met last year."
"Excuse me?"
"Hm? Oh, don’t mind me. Just an old man's ramblings."
"Ah… Okay."
The old man, seemingly satisfied, wandered around Tae-jun’s workshop, admiring not just the G.I. Commandos he’d commissioned but Tae-jun’s other works as well.
"Your restoration skills are excellent. It’d be a waste to spend your whole life doing just this…"
"Thanks. But I don’t really have any complaints. I enjoy it, after all."
“Is that so…?”
"Isn’t it enough these days to do what you like and still put food on the table?"
"You’re not as greedy as you look…"
The old man’s last words were so quiet that Tae-jun barely heard them.
After finishing off the last slice of pickled radish, Tae-jun placed the empty dishes outside the front door and returned to his workshop. It was time to wrap up the rest of the work.
"Perfect timing. I’ve only got one more figure left to restore. Please wait just a bit longer."
"Go right ahead. I’ll just watch from here—take your time."
"All right, I’ll be quick."
Tae-jun wasn’t usually the type to work in front of a guest, but considering the old man’s age, asking him to come back later didn’t feel right. He decided to just get it done.
He took out the last figure that had been soaking in enamel thinner, dried it thoroughly with an air spray, and resumed painting it with focused precision.
When immersed in a task, Tae-jun could concentrate so intensely that he became oblivious to the world around him.
About an hour later, he completed the paintwork on the final figure and carefully stuck each joint into a Styrofoam block in front of a fan to dry. He stretched and stood up.
"Once the paint dries, all that’s left is to assemble it."
He turned toward the couch, where he assumed the old man was still waiting, but the leather sofa was empty.
"Huh? Where did he go?"
He knocked on the bathroom door, just in case, but it was empty too.
"That’s odd. I’m all done with the work…"
Scratching his head, Tae-jun returned to his desk—only to be struck by an uneasy feeling.
All of the G.I. Commando figures that had been on the workbench moments ago were gone.
Even the freshly painted one—the disassembled joints and the screws he had kept separately—everything had vanished.
"What the hell!? Where’d they all go?!"
It was like something out of a ghost story.
There had been no movement or sound in the room, and yet the figures were gone. The old man who said he'd wait till the end? Gone too.
Only the low hum of the fan filled the silent room.
Was this what being haunted felt like?
Where the figures had just been, only a small box remained.
"What the…?"
In disbelief, Tae-jun walked over and opened the small cardboard box the old man had given him earlier.
Inside, he found a letter placed neatly atop a worn-out handheld game console.
"And now this…?"
Frowning, he picked up the note and read the message written on a sheet of white paper.
[I gratefully accept the fruits of your hard work. The game console in the box is my gift to you, as promised. I look forward to seeing what choice you make next.]
"You’ve got to be kidding me. Is this some kind of prank?"
Tae-jun had no idea when the old man had taken the figures, but it was obvious now he had taken them while Tae-jun was immersed in his work. One by one, quietly.
Still, this wasn’t some sprawling mansion. It was a tiny villa with a bedroom, a small closet, and a bathroom. How had he pulled it off so cleanly?
And the "payment" for all that work? A battered old game console?
Sure, Tae-jun liked games but this…?
"I swear, what a spectacular day this has been…"
First, he had to deal with the Hulkbuster customer from hell in the morning. Now, he’d been cleanly played by a well-mannered old man in the evening. He hadn’t been expecting a fortune, just a fair bit of compensation for the nostalgic joy of the project. And this is what he got?
"Ugh, whatever. I’m calling it a day."
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got but there was nothing he could do.
On nights like this, the only solution was fried chicken and a can of beer.
—---
—---------
"Huh… This game looks kinda familiar."
The next day.
With a clearer head, Tae-jun picked up the game console the old man had left behind and stared at the screen.
Lying on the sofa, fiddling with the tiny device, he pouted at the oddly familiar gameplay.
“It's the game where you fix broken items clients bring you… This feels just like my life."
It was the kind of LCD game he used to play with friends as a kid—simple controls, oddly motivating.
Flying through the stages with quick fingers, Tae-jun eventually got overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work and saw the game over screen.
"Ah, I died."
Feeling the fatigue set in, he placed the console on the table.
The game over jingle played.
"I should be working right now… What the hell am I doing?"
Just as he sat up from the couch to get back to work, the game’s screen caught his eye.
<You scored 28,320 points. As a reward for your restoration work, 28,320 won has been deposited into your account.>
"What…?"
A game score transferring directly to a bank deposit? Was this some kind of twisted joke?
Tae-jun scoffed and reached for his phone to order lunch—only to freeze in place moments later.
[10:42 AM. Deposit from Bok*** 28,320 won.]
He glanced at the clock. It was exactly 10:43.
That amount—right down to the last 320 won matched his game score.
Still in disbelief, Tae-jun stared at the console and phone, then sat back down and played again.
<You scored 1,280 points. As a reward for your restoration work, 1,280 won has been deposited into your account.>
Almost instantly, a notification popped up on his phone.
[10:46 AM. Deposit from Bok*** 1,280 won.]
"Whaaaat the hell!!"
This was insane.
Was he dreaming? He smacked himself hard. The pain was all too real.
"This… isn’t a dream?"
Still dazed, Tae-jun stared at the game console. The situation felt oddly familiar.
"Game Market 1983…?"
Yes. It was exactly like the beginning of a novel he’d just finished last week.
Trembling, he pulled up the webnovel site on his phone and reread the first chapter of Game Market 1983.
"Yeah, this is it… But why’s my payout so damn low?"
In the novel, the main character made millions from a similar game. Meanwhile, this one was paying a measly one won per point.
"It’s insane, sure… but why do I feel so ripped off?"
He shouted into the void, but there was no one who could give him an answer.
He felt like he had become the protagonist of a novel.
Getting paid to play a game? The very thing he’d casually read about before bed was now his reality.
He needed to focus on work but he couldn’t take his eyes off that game console.
It wasn’t about the money. What truly captivated Tae-jun was the game’s final reward.
Time travel…
Yes. Just like in the novel, if he cleared this game, he too could travel back in time.
I can go back…
He wasn’t greedy for money. All he wanted… was to relive his childhood with his parents one more time.
If I can just clear this game… I can go back. Back to that time…
The thought made his fingers itch.
He wanted—no, he needed to beat that game.
That night, Tae-jun posted a notice on his blog.
[Due to personal reasons, I will not be accepting any new repair requests for the time being. I will complete the current projects in my queue, then take a temporary break.]
Messages from desperate customers poured in like a storm.
[Please, you can’t just drop this out of nowhere! I was going to bring something in next week! Could you please take just one more request?]
[That’s such a shame. Your quality and prices were the best I’ve found. I really hope you come back.]
[NOOOO!! What are you saying?! This is a nightmare!]
Among the flood of messages, one in particular stood out.
[Dear Figure restorer… I’m the guy who brought in the Hulkbuster yesterday. I slipped while carrying it and broke the right arm this time… I checked other shops, but the prices are outrageous. Swallowing my pride, I’m reaching out again. I’ll pay anything please restore it for me.]
Moved by the pitiful story, Tae-jun sent a simple reply.
[Just use it like that.]
~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter End~~~~~~~~~~~~
