“Ugh, I’m full.”
At the buffet’s standard, eat as much as you can until there’s no more room left. Once feeling bloated, it’s time for dessert.
I won’t forget a scoop of vanilla ice cream in a small, concave white bowl.
Until we finish the meal, we don’t call for the robot; the bowls just keep piling up.
Between Shiyeon and me, we each had no more than five bowls.
However, as I find the bowls of the food enthusiasts hiding under the table, it soon exceeds eight bowls.
As the time passes, people around start to give looks like, ‘Two girls sure can eat.’
I press a button next to the table that resembles a calling bell, which looks a bit unusual at the buffet.
It makes no sound, but I certainly felt the button being pressed.
A short while later, a machine carrying a three-tiered basket arrives with a whirring sound.
It comes to the side of the table, places the bowls inside, and displays a message asking to press the button on the screen.
I stack the eight empty bowls in the best available space and press the button firmly.
With a smiley face emoji appearing on the screen, it heads towards the next table.
‘The world sure has become great.’
With that thought crossing my mind, I glance back at the last bowl.
A small piece of cake that seems like it would disappear after just three bites.
Even for my stomach, now covered with greasy foods, it screams that it’s too much to handle.
Just three or four one-bite desserts stuffed in one bowl.
Thinking that since I brought it, I ought to eat it, Shiyeon and I slowly finish them over 10 minutes, finally ending our lunch at the buffet.
Wiping my mouth, which had been frantically stuffing food, with a napkin, I casually grab about three more and slip them under the tablecloth.
Like a fish biting on a bait at the end of a fishing line, I snatch the napkins from my fingers.
Since my hands are still shoved under the table, a well-folded napkin returns to my hand.
I place the messy napkin on the table and, pointing under the table with my fingers so Shiyeon can see, I say,
“Let’s tidy up.”
In sync, we put on our coats and grab two mascots from the floor underneath the table.
Holding a wallet and a smartphone in each hand, we head to the cashier.
Patting my noticeably protruding belly through my clothes, I mumble to myself.
“I really ate well….”
“Uh-huh….”
Shiyeon, not expecting an answer, comfortably agrees with my soliloquy.
Beyond just eating well, it feels like I’ve really over-indulged.
Still, having come all the way to a large shopping complex, it feels a bit disappointing to just go back after eating.
“Shall we do some shopping?”
“Is there anything you want to buy?”
“No, just thought we’d walk a bit and see if there’s anything I’d like to buy.”
“Okay!”
On the 4th floor, where restaurants line up, I step onto the escalator, catching the enticing smells of food despite being full.
There’s no need to hurry down, so I lean on one of the handrails, waiting leisurely.
Going down to the 3rd floor, then the 2nd, then the 1st, and to the basement level.
We arrive at a store where there’s everything from various vegetables to children’s toys, nothing seems to be missing.
Before passing the theft alarm, the first thing that catches my eye is the shopping cart that can only be released after inserting 100 won.
These days, for some reason, there are shopping carts that are unlocked before the 100 won is inserted, and those that are completely blocked or closed.
Was it during the epidemic that people were going around sanitizing shopping cart handles a lot?
I think that’s when the concept of the 100 won carts started to disappear.
What could be the reason? Nowadays, there aren’t many people carrying coins or cash around?
Or maybe, is it just more convenient from the store’s perspective?
‘I don’t know.’
I approach the shopping carts that were stacked like overlapping paper cups, pondering my unanswered questions.
A cart waiting for customers at the back.
Taking a step forward to reach for the handle, for some reason, Shiyeon rushes past me and grabs the handle instead.
“I’ll push it!”
“Okay?”
Answering her with a casual yes while looking at Shiyeon, who shows unusual excitement in pushing the shopping cart.
I pass by the theft alarm empty-handed.
The cart with a steel-bar design sways slightly over the uneven floor, producing a vibration sound.
First, I start looking for onions, browsing the vegetable section.
A bunch of large onions lined up neatly in a red mosquito net-like bag.
I select a bag containing about four of them and toss it into the cart.
I can’t buy too many since I didn’t bring my car and need to be able to carry them.
“Oh, sweet potatoes!”
“They’re not good right now.”
“Hmph.”
Shiyeon, eyeing the sweet potatoes, seems disappointed, but sweet potatoes are out of season from August to October.
It’s currently April, as spring breezes start to blow, and delicious sweet potatoes are hard to find.
When I firmly state it’s not good right now, Shiyeon lowers her body weight onto the cart’s handle, making a discontented sound.
Sinking into the elongated handle of the cart, her chest looks like a freshly microwaved bun.
Regardless, I deliver the harsh reality based on seasonal data.
“They’re best eaten in late autumn; they won’t be sweet now.”
“I’ll buy them with my money! Just a little!”
Relentlessly refusing to listen, Shiyeon clings to a plastic bag of thick sweet potatoes.
Her slender fingers tightly gripped, holding a bag containing about eight sweet potatoes.
The taste of vegetables bought out of season is something you understand through experience.
With no expectations for sweet potatoes, I nod passively.
“Okay, go ahead and buy some.”
“Hehe.”
Perhaps feeling that she was officially allowed, Shiyeon giggles while placing a bag of sweet potatoes in a corner of the cart.
She seems to have little understanding of my internal thoughts of ‘let’s see how this goes.’
A pack of eight canned tuna, a six-pack of canned ham, and even spaghetti sauce that’s on a 2-for-1 sale.
After browsing the tasting corner and picking a few items that caught my eye more than expected, the cart gets reasonably full.
An impulsive purchase of a jar of strawberry jam and a loaf of bread is a bonus.
“Is there anything else you want to buy?”
“Um, not really?”
When we reach near the cashier and I ask if she doesn’t need anything else, Shiyeon tilts her head for a moment before replying ‘not really.’
She’s already bought spaghetti noodles and sauce, and sweet potatoes, so she feels she has enough.
‘If she needs it, she’ll buy something online herself.’
It’s not like she doesn’t have money.
Thinking this, I stride confidently towards the checkout in front of the cart.
Nowadays, there are two types of checkouts that match with the times.
First is checkout with staff for folks like me who are used to the old way.
The second is a self-checkout where you can scan and pay without staff.
Naturally, my choice is…
“Here.”
Just placing the items on the conveyor belt, it scans and calculates automatically, allowing you to move and pay quickly; it’s a truly convenient place.
With the current lack of crowds, there aren’t many people at the self-checkout.
And those who are there tend to be the younger generation with flexible minds.
Older adults typically flock to this side.
As I swiftly move the items, the barcode scanner beeps with a repeating sound in my ears.
“72,800 won, do you have a point card?”
“No, I don’t. Please give me one bag.”
“That’ll be 200 won.”
As I request a bag before completing my payment, an additional 200 won is added to the total.
The previously inconvenient one-hundred won unit is neatly rounded to zero.
With the simplified amount slightly easing my mind, I start putting heavier or fragile items in first at the bottom of the bag.
Stuffing the bag tightly with everything, I pull the shopping cart along as we head outside.
I push the cart’s wheels onto the escalator designed like a platform.
Clunk, as the wheels of the shopping cart fit into the grooves of the bumpy escalator.
Feeling a peculiar sense of satisfaction with the click as it fits perfectly.
“At the Bitsaem Apartment.”
Although I had some snacks at the tasting corner, it felt like enough walking was done during the journey in the supermarket.
Thinking there’s no need to walk all the way home, I hail a taxi.
The hefty plastic bag now feels substantial enough to cover my upper body if I set it down.
From the moment I stepped out of the taxi, I ended up struggling home while holding the handles of one side of the bag.
“Thanks to you, I ate well!”
“What were you thinking getting caught…?”
Upon returning home, the two Jin-su sneak out quietly from the pockets of my coat.
Gomtaengi expresses gratitude freely, while the sea snake can’t help but show anxiety over possibly being found out, despite having eaten well.
I breathe a sigh, perhaps seeing this as a lack of safety awareness.
“If you don’t get caught, it’s all good.”
Why? They say there’s such a thing as a perfect crime anyway.
As I casually unbutton my loose shirt, just about to step into the room.
Shiyeon suddenly digs her hand into the bag placed on the dining table and pulls out the bag of sweet potatoes.
Her expression brimming with anticipation.
“Should we cook them right away?”
“Just cook them all; once you leave them, they won’t last long.”
I tell Shiyeon, who’s staring at the air fryer, to cook them all at once since they’re bought anyway.
You can’t keep sweet potatoes, which spoil quickly in damp places, in the refrigerator either.
Yet, it isn’t dry winter, so I can’t leave them outside for long.
In that case, it’s best to steam them all at once and enjoy them leisurely.
While organizing the items bought from the supermarket, the sound of running water from the faucet briefly fills the room before the air fryer starts.
After about 10 minutes, it beeps, and….
Amidst Shiyeon’s anticipation, the sweet potatoes emerge from the air fryer.
With her oven mitts on, Shiyeon eagerly tears open the sweet potato skin, only to find inside a rough, green-tinged interior instead of the expected glistening golden hue.
“How is it?”
Well, it’s sweet potato, so Shiyeon bites into it without hesitation.
However, the flavor seems far from her expectations, and her face quickly falls into disappointment.
“It’s not sweet….”
“See? Didn’t I tell you?”
Showing an attitude that this outcome was already expected, I exhale a long breath through my partly closed eyes.
See, when you listen to your parents well, good things happen even in your sleep.
There are also proverbs among the elder Koreans that hold true.
No, if I engage in that proverb logic, I end up being the one who’s a parent.
