The Strongest, but the Genre Is Magical Girl

“Ugh, I’m so full.”

The essence of a buffet: eat as much as you can until you’re stuffed, then finish with a dessert bowl when your stomach feels heavy.

A small, concave white bowl, not forgetting a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

The plates keep piling up as we don’t call the robot until we’re done eating.

Siyeon and I can manage up to five plates at most.

But after pulling out the plates hidden under the table by the foodie bugs, we ended up with over eight plates.

Just as people around us start giving us looks like, “Wow, those two girls can really eat.”

We press a button next to the table, something unfamiliar at a buffet.

No sound, but the button definitely clicked.

Soon, a machine with a three-tier basket rolls over.

It comes to the table, takes the plates, and displays a message to press a button on the screen.

We stack the eight empty plates as neatly as possible and press the button.

The screen shows an emoticon-like face, and the machine heads to the next table.

“The world has really improved.”

With that thought in mind, I glance back at the last plate.

A small piece of cake that looks like it’ll disappear after three forkfuls.

My stomach, already stuffed with greasy food, screams in protest.

A dessert bowl with just three or four bite-sized pieces.

Thinking we have to eat what we took, Siyeon and I miserably finish it in 10 minutes, finally ending our buffet lunch.

Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I casually grab a few more and slip them under the tablecloth.

Like a fish biting bait, the napkin is snatched from my fingers.

I keep reaching under the table, and a neatly folded napkin returns to my hand.

I place the messy one on the table and point under it to Siyeon.

“Let’s pack up.”

On cue, we put on our coats and grab the two mascots from under the table.

With a wallet and smartphone in each hand, we head to the counter.

I pat my noticeably bulging belly and mutter.

“I really ate well…”

“Yeah…”

Siyeon agrees leisurely, not expecting a response.

Feeling more like I overate than just ate well.

But since we’re already at the mall, it feels a waste to just eat and leave.

“Should we look around the store?”

“Anything you want to buy?”

“Not really, just thought we could walk around and see if there’s anything we want, like side dishes or snacks.”

“Sure!”

On the 4th floor, filled with restaurants, we step onto the escalator, smelling the food despite being full.

No need to rush down, I lean on the handrail and wait leisurely.

Down to the 3rd, 2nd, 1st, and basement floors.

We arrive at a store with everything from vegetables to kids’ toys.

Before passing the theft alarm, the first thing I notice is the shopping cart that requires a 100-won coin.

Lately, carts seem to unlock without the coin, or the slot is blocked.

Was it because of the pandemic when people disinfected cart handles like crazy?

Maybe that’s when the 100-won cart concept disappeared.

Why? Because fewer people carry cash these days?

Or maybe it’s just more convenient for the store?

‘I don’t know.’

Unsure, I approach the stacked shopping carts.

A cart waiting for customers at the back.

As I reach for the handle, Siyeon overtakes me and grabs it.

“I want to push it!”

“Okay.”

I find Siyeon’s enthusiasm for pushing the cart odd but agree.

Passing the theft alarm, the cart rattles on the uneven floor.

We wander through the vegetable section, looking for onions.

Large onions wrapped in red mesh.

I pick a bag with about four and put it in the cart.

Not buying too much since we have to carry it.

“Hey, sweet potatoes!”

“Sweet potatoes aren’t good now.”

“Ugh.”

Siyeon eyes the sweet potatoes, but their season is from August to October.

Hard to find good ones in April.

I firmly say they’re not good, and Siyeon sulks, leaning on the cart handle.

Her chest pressed against the long handle, looking like a microwaved hotteok.

I explain the harsh reality based on seasonal data.

“They’re best in late autumn, not sweet at all now.”

“I’ll buy them with my money! Just a little!”

Ignoring me, Siyeon grabs a bag of thick sweet potatoes.

A bag with about eight sweet potatoes clutched in her thin fingers.

She’ll learn how bad off-season vegetables taste.

I shrug indifferently.

“Fine, go ahead.”

“Hehe.”

Feeling officially permitted, Siyeon smiles and puts the bag in the cart.

She doesn’t seem to understand my hidden thought, “You’ll regret it.”

Canned tuna, ham, and spaghetti sauce on a 2+1 deal.

Grabbing things from the sampling corner, the cart fills up nicely.

Impulse buys: a jar of strawberry jam and a loaf of bread.

“Anything else you want to buy?”

“Nah, not really.”

At the checkout, I ask if she wants anything else, and Siyeon shakes her head.

We’ve got spaghetti, sauce, and sweet potatoes, so she’s content.

‘If she needs anything, she can buy it online.’

She’s not short on money.

Thinking that, I head to the checkout.

Nowadays, there are two types of checkouts.

One for people like me, used to the old way with staff.

The other, self-checkout, where you scan and pay yourself.

Of course, my choice is…

‘Here.’

Just place items on the conveyor belt, and it calculates automatically. Just move the items and pay.

With few people around, not many use the self-checkout.

Mostly young people comfortable with it.

Older folks stick to the staffed checkout.

As I move items, the beeping sound of the scanner repeats in my ears.

“72,800 won, do you have a points card?”

“No, I don’t. Can I have a bag?”

“That’ll be 200 won.”

Before finalizing the payment, I ask for a bag, adding 200 won.

The awkward 100-won unit is now a clean 0.

Feeling slightly relieved, I pack the heavy or fragile items first.

Stuffing everything into one bag, I push the cart as far as I can before leaving.

Rolling the cart onto the escalator, the wheels fit into the grooves with a satisfying clunk.

“To Bitsam Apartments.”

After some snacking at the sampling corner, we’ve walked enough in the mall.

No need to walk home, so we take a taxi.

The plastic bag, now hefty enough to hide my upper body if stood up.

From the moment we get out of the taxi, we struggle home, each holding a handle of the bag.

“Thanks for the meal!”

“What if we got caught…?”

Back home, the two mascots quietly slip out of my coat pocket.

Gomteng thanks me boldly, while the sea snake, despite eating well, worries about getting caught.

I exhale deeply, unfazed.

“If we didn’t get caught, it’s all good.”

What, there’s a saying about perfect crimes, right?

As I unbutton my shirt and head to my room, Siyeon suddenly digs into the bag on the table and pulls out the sweet potatoes.

Her face full of anticipation.

“Shall we try them now?”

“Go ahead, they won’t last long anyway.”

I tell Siyeon, who’s eyeing the air fryer, to cook them all since they’ll spoil soon.

Sweet potatoes rot quickly in damp places, and you can’t keep them in the fridge.

Nor can you leave them outside for long, especially not in dry winter.

Might as well steam them all and eat at leisure.

While organizing the groceries, the sound of running water and then the air fryer fills the room.

Ten minutes later, a ding sounds…

In Siyeon’s anticipation, the sweet potatoes reveal themselves in the air fryer.

She eagerly peels one with gloves on,

But instead of a golden, tender inside, there’s a dull, greenish, rough texture.

“How is it?”

Without hesitation, Siyeon chews the sweet potato.

But her face, initially eager, quickly fills with disappointment.

“It’s not sweet…”

“Told you so.”

I exhale deeply, half-closing my eyes, having expected this outcome.

See, if you listen to your parents, even in your sleep, rice cakes will appear.

There’s truth in the old folks’ sayings.

Wait, if I follow this logic, I become the parent.