Chapter 47: The End of a Seafood Era and New Beginnings

Our house’s annex was a space I had been using on my own for years.

Though it had been left unattended for several years after I moved out, I hired a cleaning service to tidy it up before returning to my parents’ house, making it perfectly livable.

The two-room layout also made it convenient for shared use.

“Unnie, what’s this?”

Bunnyrun approached, holding something in her hands—a wooden box.

Curious, I took it from her and opened it. Inside, I found clothes: a black gothic lolita outfit, an eye patch, and a staff.

“…Unnie? What is this?”

Bunnyrun looked bewildered.

I was just as surprised.

So this is where it had been all along.

The set I used to wear wasn’t this one specifically, but in this version of the world, it seemed I must have favored this particular outfit.

“One moment.”

I took the box to my room, changed quickly, and came back out.

Now dressed in the gothic lolita outfit and wearing the eye patch, I struck a dramatic pose and altered my voice.

“Fufu. Was it you who summoned me?”

“Unnie?”

“Behold! Humans all appear as mere ants to me.”

“Unnie??”

“Bunnyrun-san, you’re entirely immune to subculture, aren’t you?”

Her inability to recognize what I was doing at first glance was disappointing.

“Is this an anime character?”

“It might resemble one, but strictly speaking, it’s my own original character.”

“Then how am I supposed to know that?”

Tsk-tsk. Even if it’s an original creation, any otaku worth their salt would immediately figure out what this was supposed to represent.

I gave her the answer.
“Don’t you know about chuunibyou?”

“Chuunibyou? Oh, I’ve heard of it.”

Chuunibyou—the so-called “eighth-grader syndrome”—refers to the phase some middle schoolers go through. Simply put, it’s a self-obsession disorder.

People often describe it as “an immature ego desperately searching for a sense of uniqueness, eventually imitating characters from fiction,” but even I’m not sure about the exact mechanics behind it.

You’d have to experience it yourself to truly understand.

“Unnie, were you chuunibyou too?”

“Chuunibyou only happens when you’re in eighth grade. I tried to fake it back then, but it didn’t really work.”

Let’s say you’re an adult who suddenly wants to create a game about chuunibyou.

If you don’t have personal experience with it, you’re in trouble.

And since you can’t turn back time, the only option is to simulate it as best you can.

So when I hit eighth grade, I gave it a shot.

It wasn’t hugely successful, but…

“Still, I learned how people react to someone with chuunibyou,” I said.

“That’s so like you, Unnie.”

Bunnyrun fiddled with the fabric of my gothic lolita outfit, muttering to herself.

“This design looks just like the clothes ‘Han Yurim’ wears.”

“As I said earlier, creators inevitably incorporate their own experiences into their work.”

“…Really?”

Her voice lowered for a moment, and she grew quiet, seemingly lost in thought.

After a brief pause, Bunnyrun hesitantly spoke up.

“Unnie, do you… happen to have a biological younger sibling or older sister?”

“Yurim! Dad’s here!”

“Got it!”

Hearing my mother’s voice calling from afar, I responded and turned to Bunnyrun.

“What did you just say?”

“…Nothing.”

She seemed like she had a lot she wanted to say, but I decided to let it go for now.

Meeting the person who had summoned me back to my family home took precedence.

I headed to the main house with Bunnyrun. My father was there, drinking water.

Bunnyrun bowed politely.
“Hello!”

“Are you Yurim’s friend?”

“Yes, I’m a close younger sister figure.”

After greeting Bunnyrun, my father turned his attention to me.

His expression was rigid, his gaze cold—just like always.

I matched his gaze evenly and asked, “Why did you call me here so suddenly?”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

His gaze deepened, colder and sharper, piercing straight into me.

At that moment, Bunnyrun clung tightly to my arm, as if trying to shield me from something.

Finally, my father broke his tightly closed silence.

“Yurim, my shop went under. What should I do?”

“I figured as much.”

I wasn’t surprised.

Given that it was only midday and my father was already home, I had guessed something like this had happened.

“Huh?”

Bunnyrun let out a dumbfounded sound next to me.

Ah, I’d made a mistake—this was too heavy a topic to bring up in front of a guest.

“Bunnyrun, you should go rest in the annex. I need to help my dad figure out a solution.”

“Uh?”

“Yurim, can you stop calling me Dad and say Daddy instead…?”

“Hurry up and go.”

Bunnyrun hesitantly followed behind us, looking puzzled.

I couldn’t figure out why.

We arrived in front of my father’s shop.

I glanced up at the signboard. It wasn’t lit.

“The shop’s completely closed?”

“It’s not even vacation season yet.”

“Hmm.”

I stepped inside the shop to assess its condition.

“The place is well cleaned.”

“Cleanliness is important.”

“And the kitchen… hmm.”

The layout was different from before, but it made sense.

This was the kitchen of a shop meant for cooking.

“I’ll need to taste the food to make a judgment. Please prepare one portion of haeshintang and bring it over.”

“Alright.”

After a short wait, a pot filled with seafood arrived.

Click. I lit the burner, and soon, a rich aroma began to waft through the air.

“Bunnyrun, you ate a lot earlier, so just have a little this time.”

While I could eat all day without much concern (though not ideal for my weight), Bunnyrun wasn’t the same.

She needed to manage her portions.

“Hmm. Mmm.”

One by one, I sampled the abalone, octopus, clams, and then sipped the broth.

Finally, I had my verdict.

“Dad.”

“It doesn’t taste good, does it?”

“Do you ever properly taste your own food?”

“…I do. Sometimes.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’ve thoroughly tasted it.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

The reason for my father’s shop struggling was simple—he didn’t enjoy the food he was making.

But really, was it ever a good idea for someone who disliked seafood to run a seafood restaurant?

Honestly, it was surprising the business lasted this long before failing.

“Dad, how long has it been since you started this shop?”

“About three years?”

“Let’s call it quits and start something new.”

“That’s why I called you, Yurim.”

He started fidgeting awkwardly. What now?

“I want to move to Seoul and open a new shop. Can you help convince your mom?”

“Convincing her is your job, Dad.”

“But if you say something, she’ll understand right away, won’t she?”

“What about the money?”

“We can sell the house and the shop to fund it.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

It seemed a waste to let the house by the East Sea go, so I could just buy it myself.

On second thought, there wasn’t even a need for that.

I could help financially without selling the house.

However, no matter what, I couldn’t help with the shop itself.

I asked to clarify, “What kind of shop are you planning to open?”

“…A sashimi restaurant?”

“First of all, step away from seafood.”

“But I’ve lived by the sea my whole life. Shouldn’t I make use of that?”

What a huge misunderstanding.

Just because someone has spent their life playing RPGs doesn’t mean they’ll automatically be good at developing RPG games.

While experience usually helps, there are always exceptions in this world.

And as far as I could see, my dad was one of those exceptions.