The shop next door had been dark for weeks. Its peeling "FOR RENT" sign practically screamed at me every morning when I unlocked my own convenience store.
At first, I ignored it.
I told myself: No way. I already have enough chaos. I don't need more floor space. I don't need more headaches. I don't need...
And then the Goblin Coupon Gang came in dressed as Renovation Contractors.
Hard hats.
Tool belts.
A ladder they clearly stole from somewhere. One of them even carried blueprints drawn in crayon.
"Boss Hanseok!" Globby the Loud announced, slamming the blueprints onto my counter. "We expand! We conquer! We become chain store!"
I stared at him. "We're not expanding."
"Correct" Globby replied with confidence. "We are already expanding."
He pointed to the left wall, which separated my store from the failed bakery. I heard a faint crunch and realized another goblin had already started hammering at it with a wrench.
"Stop! We don't own that!"
CRASH.
A hole appeared. Through the dust, I saw the empty bakery. Dusty shelves, broken ovens, cobwebs in the corners. The sign outside still said "Golden Crust" but the gold part had faded until it just read "Old Crust."
I sighed.
Of course this was happening.
A Few Weeks Later
Against all logic, I signed the lease.
Paid the rent in gold. Got the paperwork stamped. The clerk gave me a weird look, but when I dropped a literal gold bar on the counter, she shut up real fast.
Renovation was... a nightmare.
Every day, I'd unlock the store to find goblins already "working." By working, I mean:
One painted smiley faces on the wall with ketchup.
Another was balancing ceiling tiles like dominoes.
Globby stood on a step stool, yelling "Project Manager!" while holding a hammer backwards.
Mom stopped by to "help."
She brought sandwiches.
She complimented everything. "Oh, what nice colors you picked!" she said, while staring at a wall painted neon green by accident.
My sister filmed the entire process and uploaded it online with the caption: "My idiot brother is opening a goblin-run restaurant." The video got 40k views.
Step-dad grunted through all of it.
"Restaurant's a bad idea. Waste of money. No one's gonna eat dungeon junk food." Then he stole one of the test burgers and didn't stop chewing for three minutes straight.
Weeks later, the wall was gone, the space was open and somehow, by a miracle, the restaurant looked half-decent.
Neon sign above the new counter: Hanseok's Diner.
Menu: fast food staples. Burgers, fried chicken, ramen bowls, fries.
Slogan: "Hot Food, Cold Drinks, No Questions."
I'd barely finished taping up the opening-hours sign when the new hire arrived.
She walked in like she owned the place, long hair tied up in a ponytail, apron already on, smiling like she'd been waiting for this job her whole life.
"Hi, Boss" she said with a bow.
"Thanks for hiring me. I'll make sure the restaurant becomes a hit!"
Boss? When did I become Boss?
I scratched the back of my neck.
"Uh, right. Yeah. Just, y'know, be polite to customers. That's all I ask."
Her smile widened. "Of course. Always."
Somewhere in the corner, my sister smirked like she knew something I didn't.
The goblins, meanwhile, were lined up in paper hats they'd made themselves, chanting:
"BURGER! BURGER! BURGER!"
I had officially created the world's first dungeon-connected convenience store/restaurant hybrid.
And I was terrified.