A personal shopper, they said, was a professional who assisted clients with their shopping needs, taking into account various personal elements. Sori Hwa had been entirely unaware that such a profession even existed in the world.
“I’ve curated a selection of styles perfectly suited to your skin tone and body type, Ms. Sori Hwa. Given your petite and charming demeanor, I’ve focused on enhancing your proportions with crop-length tops and high-waisted bottoms. Of course, your face is already delightfully small, so your proportions are excellent to begin with.”
“Is there anything with a more understated and refined silhouette? I also find this skirt a bit too short for my liking. Perhaps a midi-skirt length would be more suitable.”
“A midi-skirt would indeed lend a more elegant air. In that vein, it might be more effective to pair it with a chicer bottom color rather than a traditionally ‘lovely’ one. This particular black midi-skirt, from our 25SS collection, boasts a silky material that enhances its inherent sophistication.”
“Could I perhaps see that one, along with some high-waisted pants?”
“Certainly, Ms. Sori Hwa. Should you decide to lean into this aesthetic, we could further elevate the styling with fundamental accessories like necklaces or bracelets. Would you be interested in some recommendations?”
“Yes, absolutely. Please focus your recommendations on silver accessories.”
Was this the sensation one felt when directly witnessing a sword master and their apprentice engaged in a duel of blades? Sori Hwa grasped less than thirty percent of the conversation unfolding between Dang Ria and the personal shopper.
Nevertheless, with each turn of phrase, she would nod gravely, feigning comprehension.
“I quite like this one as well. What do you think, Rihwa?”
“……Oh. Yes. It’s quite lovely. It feels as though aesthetic sensibility and technical precision have harmonized, culminating in an artistic performance…”
“Heh heh. What on earth are you blabbering about?”
Perhaps not. It seemed that even when employing sophisticated-sounding words, their impact varied wildly depending on the speaker. When Dang Ria or the personal shopper uttered them, the words exuded elegance, yet when Sori Hwa herself spoke them, even she found her own pronouncements utterly idiotic.
“So, are you getting this one as well?”
“Ah, well. Yes.”
Before the garment could be passed to a lounge attendant, Sori Hwa swiftly scanned its price tag. Three hundred and fifty thousand nyang (TL Note: A unit of currency). ‘Insane,’ she thought, ‘utterly insane.’ The apartment she currently rented required a deposit of one million nyang and a monthly rent of two hundred and fifty thousand nyang. To think this scrap of fabric alone far surpassed her entire month’s rent!
What proved even more astonishing was that this price was merely the result of Dang Ria specifically instructing the personal shopper to select only items that wouldn’t be ‘overly burdensome’ in cost. It was a drastic measure, implemented only because Sori Hwa had consistently expressed her discomfort with the expense.
Undoubtedly, within the confines of such a VIP lounge, garments costing between three hundred and four hundred thousand nyang would be regarded as remarkably inexpensive. Yet, that was a VIP’s perspective; Sori Hwa, a veritable pauper, considered even thirty-five thousand nyang for a single item of clothing to be exorbitant.
“If you’ve bought the blouse, then this skirt is an absolute must-have. They truly belong together, like a complete set.”
“Y-yes, I suppose they do.”
Swept along by Dang Ria’s relentless momentum, Sori Hwa had already accumulated six articles of clothing: three tops, two bottoms, and a single outer garment.
One or two items might have been tolerable, but with six, the heart of Sori Hwa, a mere commoner, grew heavy, as if weighted down by molten lead. Six garments, each costing a minimum of three hundred thousand nyang, totaled approximately two million nyang. It was an astronomical sum, enough to make Sori Hwa’s red eyes feel as though they might roll back in her head and turn white from shock.
“……Excuse me, Miss Dang.”
“Oh, please. ‘Miss Dang’? You’re older than me, after all. Just speak to me informally.”
“Ah, right. Should I…?”
Given capitalism’s inherent tendency to foster a ‘money-is-everything’ mentality among the less affluent, Sori Hwa, too, subscribed to the adage that ‘whoever has more money is the older sibling.’ From that perspective, Dang Ria was no ordinary senior, making the situation rather awkward.
“It feels like this is a bit too much for me to accept.”
“Hmm? No, no, don’t be silly. Truly, don’t feel burdened. When I go shopping, I easily spend ten times this amount!”
“Even so…”
Dang Ria casually dismissed her concern, picking up a remote control and activating the screen. It seemed the lounge provided videos and other entertainment to occupy guests during the considerable wait while the personal shopper was out selecting garments, ensuring no one grew bored.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like to watch?”
“…Hmm, no.”
“Then, I’ll put on something I want to watch, alright?”
“Okay.”
Lacking the fortitude to press the issue further, Sori Hwa ultimately remained silent. Dang Ria navigated to BigTube, connected to the television, and began browsing through videos.
A sudden curiosity struck her. What channels, she wondered, did chaebol (TL Note: Large family-controlled South Korean conglomerates) daughters typically watch? She had presumed they would favor sophisticated cultural channels, perhaps on philosophy, art, or humanities. Yet, to her surprise, Dang Ria selected a Royal Commando video.
Truthfully, setting aside the fact that Dang Ria was a chaebol daughter, it wasn’t particularly noteworthy. Royal Commando was, after all, a game quite popular even among women. Despite being an FPS, it featured characters whose gameplay didn’t heavily rely on precise aiming.
“So, you play Royal Commando.”
“Oh, you play it too?”
Upon Sori Hwa’s casual acknowledgment, Dang Ria responded with evident delight.
While she had been aware of the game for quite some time, having only played it for a single day, Sori Hwa hesitated, wondering if she could truly claim to ‘play’ it. Yet, anticipating future sessions, she ultimately nodded.
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. What character do you main?”
“Paracel (TL Note: Likely a character name, possibly a reference to Paracelsus, a Swiss physician and alchemist) is my main. It just feels quite fitting for the Dang Clan, doesn’t it?”
Indeed, that was undeniably true. Paracel was a healer designed with a pharmacist concept, adept at tossing syringes filled with potent potions. They were also a fascinating character, capable of transforming into an extreme damage dealer, wielding poison for a set duration upon activating their ultimate ability. Considering their mastery over both venom and remedies, and their use of projectile syringes as hidden weapons, the character perfectly embodied the essence of the Dang Clan.
“You’re right. That’s perfectly fitting for the Dang Clan.”
“And you?”
“I haven’t been playing for long, so I’m limited to playing Trooper.”
“Trooper? That’s the quintessential beginner character. But isn’t that an aim-reliant character?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Trooper, a character even featured in the tutorial, possessed a fundamental FPS skill set.
“How interesting. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen a woman playing a damage dealer.”
“Indeed. Most tend to gravitate towards support or tank roles.”
“What’s your current tier?”
“Ah, I haven’t reached the required level yet, so I can’t play ranked matches.”
“You really haven’t been playing for long, have you? How about we play together sometime?”
“Sure.”
A simple promise to play a game. Yet, the revelation that they shared the same hobby made Dang Ria, who had previously seemed like a being from an entirely different world, appear considerably more approachable and familiar.
“Here. Input your phone number.”
“Ah, right.”
As Dang Ria extended her phone, Sori Hwa dutifully entered her number. Moments later, Sori Hwa’s own phone chimed with an incoming call that immediately disconnected—it was Dang Ria’s number.
“Save that number.”
“Okay.”
Sori Hwa felt a subtle thrill of excitement as she saved Dang Ria’s contact. After all, the only people stored in her phone were a construction foreman, a logistics center team leader, her landlady, and a welfare office civil servant. This was a monumental first: saving someone she could genuinely call a friend. To think her very first friend since arriving in this world was a chaebol (TL Note: Large family-controlled South Korean conglomerates) daughter. Such was the sheer plausibility of a beautiful face.
No sooner had they exchanged numbers than a knock echoed through the room. The personal shopper had returned with a fresh selection of garments. Sori Hwa, whose spirits had briefly lifted, once again slumped into gloom. It was time for another round of trying on clothes.
****
Having completed the extensive shopping spree, Sori Hwa was utterly drained. Dang Ria, meanwhile, nodded with evident satisfaction and incessantly snapped photos as Sori Hwa modeled each new outfit.
Initially, she had deemed these costly clothes excessive, but viewing them as a sort of modeling fee, she found herself able to rationalize the situation.
“I have to head to Sichuan now. Get in touch!”
“Okay. Thank you so much for the clothes. I’ll wear them well.”
“Don’t mention it, really.”
With plans made to meet in Royal Commando, Sori Hwa and Dang Ria parted ways. Upon Sori Hwa’s arrival home, her arms were laden with shopping bags. It appeared Dang Ria had spent approximately three million nyang on Sori Hwa’s wardrobe alone.
‘I’ll have to repay her later.’
After speaking with her at the PSR (TL Note: Likely a specific location or event, contextually a high-end fashion lounge), Dang Ria, contrary to her initial impression of being sophisticated yet impudent, turned out to be merely direct and spirited.
This assessment, of course, was somewhat positively skewed by the fact that Dang Ria had purchased expensive clothes for her. And, to a lesser extent—no, to a significant extent—by the fact that she was Sori Hwa’s very first friend in this new world.
But how would she ever repay her? True, Sori Hwa currently possessed approximately two million nyang, money she had received from Jo Meo-hyeop (TL Note: Likely a character name), but this constituted her entire worldly fortune.
Ultimately, the crucial point was Sori Hwa’s lack of a steady income. Yet, it wasn’t as if she were an idle youth; she always took on work whenever a position became available. The problem was simply that no one called upon her.
Sori Hwa carefully placed the shopping bags in the sunniest spot in her home. Those clothes were more expensive than Sori Hwa’s own worth at the moment. In fact, nothing in this house was less expensive than Sori Hwa herself.
Sori Hwa’s assets amounted to two million nyang in cash, burdened by a debt of eighty million nyang, leaving her with a net worth of negative seventy-eight million nyang. Given that all existing objects possessed at least some value, Sori Hwa was, in essence, the only ‘anti-matter’ in her own home. As she engaged in this familiar self-deprecation, a wave of sadness washed over her once more.
Such temporary labor and low-level earnings would never allow her to overcome her current predicament. In the end, streaming was her only viable path. Hadn’t she just witnessed how much Jo Meo-hyeop had earned in merely three hours?
“Good.”
Sori Hwa declared, gently slapping her soft cheeks with both hands. Once her mind was made up, there was no reason to delay.
Thus, Sori Hwa immediately accessed V12 and started her broadcast.
True to Sori Hwa’s nature of acting first and thinking later, she hadn’t touched any of the broadcast settings or configurations.
The broadcast began streaming through her Ogogok (TL Note: Likely a username or account name) account, which was linked to V12. All that was visible was a pitch-black screen, an inevitable outcome since she hadn’t configured her camera.
[ Wadeulwadeul Live On ]
Her broadcast was utterly unprepared. Sori Hwa had actually intended to turn on the stream and then tinker with the settings, assuming no normal person would bother to tune into a black screen.
– Explain yourself
– Explain
– Jo Meo-hyeop’s girlfriend ㅋㅋ Jo Meo-hyeop’s girlfriend ㅋㅋ
– Yourself
– Wadeulwadeul, who did you vote for in this election?
– ★★★AGAIN XI★★★
– Explain
– Cheater ㅋㅋㅋ
[ Small Temple Vegetarian sponsored 1000 nyang! ]
[ Cheater hi ]
“……?”
By the time she realized her assumption was gravely mistaken, the number of viewers, which had been slowly increasing by one or two, inexplicably surged past a thousand.
