Elementalism

"One large strawberry cream delight with whipped cream on top," I repeated, flashing a polite, well-practiced smile. "Want chocolate drizzle on that?"

She nodded. I punched it into the register, read her the total, and took her money. The second she stepped aside, another customer took her place, moving with the rhythm of the ever-busy café.

Mirin's wasn't huge, but it was always alive, buzzing like a beehive of caffeine-fueled chaos. We were known less for our coffee and more for the kind of over-the-top drinks that looked like something straight out of an Instagram post. Regular coffee? We had it. Almost no one ordered it. The menu board even dared customers with, Try if you dare!—courtesy of our eccentric manager.

When I first applied, I'd thought it was just a marketing gimmick, a little reverse psychology to get people curious. I said as much during the interview. The manager just grinned, waved over the barista, and handed me a small coffee.

Next thing I knew, I was waking up with a job offer.

Apparently, I'd blacked out.

She told me she liked the look of me—said I didn't seem like the type to quit after two weeks. She needed someone reliable, someone who'd last at least a year. That worked for me. I had two years left of university, and I was desperate for cash.

I'd already finished my mandatory military service before starting school, so at least that was out of the way. But life had other ways of kicking me in the ribs.

Family trouble on my dad's side had snowballed into a nightmare. Stress wrecked my focus, grades slipped, and suddenly, I was out my full scholarship for the year.

Cue me, scrambling for work.

Mirin's was perfect—right between my apartment and campus. The manager was chill about letting me sneak in study time during slow hours, though slow was a rare breed around here.

I took the last order in line and stretched, rolling my shoulders as my spine cracked into place. God, it had been a relentless two-hour rush. And I still had three more to go.

I glanced at the clock in the corner of the register, willing it to say 9 p.m. already. I had an essay to work on, a group project to organize (because of course, it fell on me), and, on top of it all—dinner.

I groaned, rubbing my face.

"Hey, Ryung, can you take out the trash?" Ji-ho called.

"Yeah," I muttered, dragging myself toward the bins.

My stomach grumbled at the thought of food, but I wasn't even sure if I had any left at home. I hadn't grocery shopped in days, and I was pretty sure the last of my ingredients went into that late-night ramyun. Bora had dragged me out to eat the night after, which meant I was back to square one.

Did I even have enough money for groceries?

I tied off the trash bag, lugged it outside, and leaned against the brick wall, letting the night air cool my overheated skin. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, flipping open my calendar.

Payday was still a ways off.

I sighed. Okay. 20,000 won left. Enough for subway fare, a couple of meals if I stretch it.

"This sucks," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "If I'd known Dad was gonna pull this crap again, I would've cut him off the first time."

The memory hit me like a gut punch—my parents, on their knees, begging.

I swallowed against the nausea curling in my gut.

Even now, just thinking about it made me feel sick. I clenched my fists. Part of me knew I was an idiot for caving. But another part… another part of me was glad to help, like I was fulfilling some unavoidable, prewritten role.

I snorted. Bora would smack me upside the head if I ever said that out loud.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I pushed off the wall.

"Ryung! We've got people!" Ji-ho's voice echoed through the back door.

"Coming," I called, stepping forward—

And then—

It hit me.

A bolt of electricity slammed through my body, searing and cold all at once.

My breath hitched. My vision exploded in blinding white light.

Then—

Nothing.

Just the sensation of falling.