The Coin That Shouldn’t Exist
When Min Jae got home, he didn't even take off his shoes.
He burst through the door of the chicken shop, ignored his dad yelling something about "closing time," and sprinted down the narrow hallway toward the back room that led to the basement—his portal zone, workshop, and increasingly chaotic warehouse of cross-world goods.
"Where is it?" he muttered, nearly tripping on a box of glow-chews.
He opened the small drawer labeled 'Out-World Currency – Not for Public Use' and dumped its contents onto the floor.
Three bronze coins. One silver. One cracked obsidian shard. And…
He held up the tiny round coin his mom had described over the phone.
> It wasn't there.
---
Missing Coin, Big Problem
He stared at the empty foam slot in the drawer.
"That's the one," he whispered. "The enchanted copper—market token from Rivertown's East Quarter. I never sold it. Never even packed it."
Goji bleated from his corner and looked vaguely guilty.
Min Jae crouched down and stared at him. "Did you bring something upstairs?"
Goji sneezed, bit into a snack wrapper, and very pointedly walked away.
That wasn't a no.
Min Jae's pulse quickened. "No one can open the portal but me. No one from that world can come through. That's the rule."
He sat back on the cold tile floor.
"But someone still got that coin."
---
Mom's Account
Ten minutes later, after a cold soda and a mild panic attack, Min Jae sat across the kitchen table from his mom.
She calmly sliced onions while recounting the story like it was nothing special.
"She came in around three," she said. "Pretty. Pale skin. Long skirt. Wavy hair. Looked kind of... old-fashioned. Asked if the 'young wizard' was home."
Min Jae blinked. "Wizard?"
"That's what she said. I thought she was just some eccentric fangirl of your weird TikToks."
He groaned.
"She left this," his mom continued, handing him the coin. "Said, 'Give this to Min Jae. He'll know what it means.' Then she bowed and left."
Min Jae stared at the token. It gleamed faintly under the fluorescent lights.
> It was definitely the East Quarter coin.
"I didn't post this anywhere. I've never even used it for a product shoot."
---
Checking the Portal
Back in the basement, Min Jae yanked open the cupboard door behind the boiler that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since 1994.
Behind it? A glowing circle carved into the concrete. His portal.
Still sealed. Still pulsing gently. Still password-locked with a 4-rune combination only he knew (and Goji somehow guessed once by accident).
He ran a diagnostic. The spell-sensor blinked green.
No unauthorized usage. No breaches. No backflow.
> "Then how the hell…?"
He glanced at the pile of inventory nearby, where one old packing box was tipped slightly open.
He pulled it forward—and found a torn shipping label with a small copper coin-shaped dent inside.
His heart dropped.
---
The Accidental Leak
"Oh no," he muttered. "It must've fallen in during packing."
A month ago, he'd shipped a mystery snack bundle to a fan who'd won his "Enchanted Giveaway."
He'd tossed in random goods from his surplus crate to look cool.
One of those boxes had been right under the coin drawer.
Which meant…
"This random customer—this woman—she didn't cross over… she just found something she shouldn't."
Goji bleated like a squeaky door hinge.
"She must've traced the symbol," Min Jae realized, holding up the coin. "Searched it. Found me."
He turned to Goji.
"We just got tracked. By a snack fan with internet access and way too much time."
---
Paranoia Levels: Activated
He spent the next two hours searching his online orders. He finally narrowed it down to a woman named Jin Hye-jin, 28, Seoul address.
She'd ordered a surprise snack pack from his site about five weeks ago.
No social media presence. No photo on her profile. But her name now glared at him like a flashing neon sign.
> "Give this to Min Jae. He'll know what it means."
He did know. It meant she had the coin. She figured something out.
The real question was:
How much did she know?
---
Stakeout Plans (And Spilled Kimchi)
By midnight, Min Jae had a plan.
Step 1: Go to her address.
Step 2: Pretend to be a delivery guy.
Step 3: Spy, panic, and possibly offer free snacks in exchange for silence.
He packed a sample gift bag, just in case, and stuffed the coin in his hoodie pocket.
"Stay here," he told Goji.
Goji immediately climbed into his backpack.
"Fine," Min Jae muttered, "but you're the distraction."
They left through the back, tiptoeing past his dad who was still marathoning cooking dramas in the living room.
Halfway down the street, Goji sneezed inside the bag, knocking over a jar of kimchi that Min Jae had completely forgotten he packed for snack bartering purposes.
"Perfect," he muttered. "Smell like pickled cabbage. Definitely not suspicious."
---
Jin Hye-jin's Apartment
The building wasn't creepy.
It was worse.
Too clean. Too perfect. Like someone photoshopped it in real life. All glass and brushed metal and potted plants that looked watered with ambition.
Min Jae stood in front of apartment 5A, clutching the gift bag, Goji occasionally twitching inside his bag.
He knocked.
Footsteps.
The door opened—
And a calm, polite-looking woman stood there. Early 30s. Casual cardigan. Calm eyes. Holding a mug that read: "Don't Talk to Me Unless You're a Dragon."
> "Min Jae," she said.
He froze.
"I've been waiting."