Chapter 4
"If you're exposed to great misfortune for over three years, you'll suffer calamity?"
"Does that mean contracting an incurable disease or getting caught in life-threatening accidents?"
"Father didn't have any great misfortune, so why was he involved in an accident?"
"Maybe... once your name's recorded in the ledger, even mountains of good karma can't prevent death?"
"Still, they say accumulated good karma lets you dwell in paradise after death. It's not directly tied to survival."
Reaching this conclusion, Jeong Jik-han realized Kang Moo-chi had pulled an absurd stunt.
Yet that very absurdity had saved his life.
I should treat him to proper goblin fare later.
Refocusing, he surveyed the Ghost Cafe's limited menu:
Espresso. Americano. Café latte. Vanilla latte. Mocha. Caramel macchiato.
Beyond coffee? Barley tea. Black tea. Green tea.
No bingsu, waffles, or pastries in sight.
His eyes narrowed.
Where's the ice machine?
No industrial freezer meant no iced drinks. Clearing his throat, he tested:
"Nahan?"
[How may I assist?]
"It actually works!" The responsive AI assistant dissolved his lingering tension.
"Ice machine location?"
[The deceased cannot consume cold beverages. Serve hot drinks only.]
Ah. Ghosts' potent yin energy left them perennially chilled, requiring warmth. Logical.
His gaze swept the abundant mugs behind the counter.
"High customer turnover?"
[Open kitchen design element.]
"Fluctuating daily attendance then?"
[Patrons are invited deceased.]
"Invitations? To a cafe?"
[Entry requires performing good deeds.]
The contract's clauses suddenly made sense:
Listen actively to patrons' stories.
No arguments with spirits.
These invited ghosts had earned their seats through merit. His role? Facilitate their enlightenment.
"Good deeds? Like saving lives?"
[Rescuing mortals violates underworld law. Minor interventions only.]
"Minor how?"
[Catching falling cups. Diverting phones from drains. Steadying stumbling pedestrians.]
Our world's ghosts have been doing this all along? A grin tugged his lips.
"Fascinating. Permitted?"
[Within reason.]
"And the coffee's significance?"
[Warmth prevents soul-freezing. Frozen souls breed resentment... become evil spirits.]
"So patrons here seek closure, not damnation."
[Correct. Reapers handle malevolents.]
The system crystallized in his mind - karma mechanics, cafe purpose, his unexpected role.
Life's unpredictability had thrust Jeong Jik-han, skeptic of shamanism, into guiding spirits. Nervous anticipation hummed through him. This exclusive glimpse into the supernatural felt... exhilarating.
10 minutes to opening.
Jeong Jik-han polished the stand-up counter where conversational patrons would perch. He'd rehearsed expressions in the mirror, but the entrance bell's chime still stiffened his spine.
11 PM.
"Welcome to the Ghost Cafe!"
His greeting faltered. The entering spirits wore crisp outfits and warm smiles - no gore, no death rattles. They resembled living customers sipping weekend lattes.
"Who're you?" The lead ghost frowned.
"Jeong Jik-han, your new barista. I'll—"
"Where's Manager Park?"
Before he could respond, another spirit interjected: "Sook-hee, Manager ascended last week."
"Already? Felt like ten years..."
"Nah. Gave us lottery tips before passing on. Remember Chun-bae?"
"You didn't BUY them, did you?" Sook-hee's jade ring clinked against her mug. "I warned you!"
Contract Clause 3 flashed through his mind: No soliciting or accepting offerings.
"Wait." Sook-hee leaned close, peering at his shoulder. "Goblin's Mark?"
He touched the invisible sigil - his insurance against reapers.
"Can you actually brew coffee?" Her hanbok's emerald skirts rustled.
"My vanilla latte surpasses Manager Park's."
"Bold claim." Her eyes narrowed. "Prove it."
The espresso machine hummed like an old friend. Despite first-day jitters, muscle memory took over - grind, tamp, steam. He presented the drink with leaf-patterned latte art mirroring her jade accessory.
"Leveling? Dosing?" She sipped. "Latte art training?"
"Tailored to your elegance."
A beat. Then: "Pass."
Applause erupted as spectral patrons queued up. Above Jeong Jik-han's head, a will-o'-wisp flame flickered - visible in the window's reflection.
Good karma... already? Kang Moo-chi's voice echoed: "Cafe-earned karma outvalues lifetime accumulation."
"Americano here!"
"Line orderly, please!"
The temperature plummeted as spirits clustered. Yin energy prickled his neck hairs while he worked. Ten patrons occupied seats - some chatting, others contemplative.
His eyes lingered on a long-haired ghost hesitating by the entrance guitar. First, bathroom directions. Then fumbled small talk. When the spirit finally gestured at the instrument, hope flickered:
"May I... play it?"
