Having someone who actually knew the place made all the difference.
Zhou Zhuang followed the "helpful uncle" through a couple of turns, and before long he finally saw it—
A refrigerated display full of drinks.
He immediately wanted to curse himself.
So it was near the entrance this whole time?!
He'd entered and walked deeper and deeper like an idiot, meaning every step he took was literally getting him farther away from the drinks section.
He yanked the fridge door open and grabbed what Angela asked for: a bottle of purified water.
Then he stared at the brightly colored, unfamiliar drinks, trying to decide what he wanted.
He was still thinking when the man with the shopping cart spoke up:
"Hey, buddy—if you're still deciding, can you let me grab mine first?"
"Ah—sure, sorry!"
Zhou Zhuang stepped aside.
The man smoothly pulled out multiple packs of drinks like he knew exactly what he wanted. Zhou Zhuang got curious.
"Uncle, what's that?"
Gregor shook the cans slightly to show him.
"This? Beer."
"Ohhh."
Zhou Zhuang clicked his tongue.
Beer, huh…
He considered copying the guy and just grabbing one.
Then he checked his phone.
Ten minutes had already passed.
His stomach dropped.
No time to overthink.
He grabbed one can of beer for himself, hugged Angela's water to his chest, and ran for the checkout.
Gregor watched him go and thought, vaguely, that the kid probably had someone waiting for him.
He thought of his own empty home and gave a self-mocking smile, then went back to shopping.
Zhou Zhuang slammed his items onto the counter, along with the credit card Angela had given him, and shoved everything at the cashier in one breathless motion.
The cashier read the total out of habit, took the card—
…and glanced at it.
Then she froze.
The Wing insignia on the card hit her like a truck.
"W–W–Wing?!"
She rubbed her eyes, convinced she had to be imagining things.
But under the store lights, the card's faint green gleam and the emblem made it painfully real.
She snapped upright, horrified that she'd been casual with someone like this, and immediately bowed.
"I—I'm terribly sorry, sir! I've wasted your precious time! I'll process your payment right away!"
Her hands trembled as she tried to swipe the card.
Once.
Twice.
Still didn't go through.
Whether it was nerves or bad luck, she couldn't get it to register. She looked like she was about to cry.
Zhou Zhuang got startled at the sudden formal bow, briefly thinking something had gone wrong—then he saw her desperately failing at the card reader and panicking.
He quickly tried to calm her down.
"It's okay, I'm not in a rush! Don't panic. Here—don't swipe yet. Follow me: deep breath. Deep breath… yeah, like that."
Under his guidance, she took a few steady breaths. Her shaking eased.
She picked the card up again.
Swipe.
This time it went through instantly.
The cashier exhaled like she'd been spared execution, then handed over the bag and the card, still speaking with a slight tremor:
"Thank you for shopping here. I hope my performance didn't cause you trouble."
Zhou Zhuang took his things and gave her a straightforward, almost earnest reassurance:
"It's fine. Your service was good. Don't think a 'Feather' is some big deal—I'm just a normal person like you. Two eyes, one nose, one mouth. Nothing special."
Then he rushed out with the drinks.
Behind him, the cashier watched his back with a dazed, starry-eyed expression, as if he were surrounded by some kind of glow.
"So charming… a Feather from a Wing… and I didn't even get a good look at his face…"
She was still zoning out when Gregor arrived at the counter.
Only when he spoke did she snap back.
And the moment she saw who it was, her expression twisted into pure disgust.
She slapped his items into the scanning area and sneered:
"Well, look who it is—our 'war hero.' What, you're still shamelessly alive?"
Gregor didn't argue.
After everything that happened, this kind of treatment was simply… routine.
People cursed him, spat at him, even tried to start fights.
It happened every day.
Seeing him stay silent, the cashier clicked her tongue, but still did her job and read the total.
Gregor quietly pulled crumpled bills from his pocket, placed them on the counter, then withdrew his hand quickly.
The cashier, irritated, unfolded each bill one by one, counted, recounted—
then called out loudly:
"Hey, 'great hero.' You're short by a few hundred Ahn."
Gregor patted his pockets, embarrassed.
"Then… please remove some items for me, miss."
The cashier sighed.
"Fine. You can thank the Feather earlier for putting me in a good mood. Consider it charity—like feeding a beggar."
Gregor immediately thanked her, accepted the large bag with his normal hand, and left.
Outside, he instinctively reached for his pocket—
and only then realized he was out of cigarettes.
He looked down at the bag on his right arm—
and there, right on top, was a pack of cigarettes he definitely hadn't picked.
Gregor took it out and turned back toward the cashier, intending to return it.
But the moment she noticed his gaze, she quickly turned her head away, pretending she saw nothing.
Gregor looked at the cigarettes, then at her turned-away profile.
He gave a small, helpless laugh, shook his head, slipped the pack into his pocket—
and walked off.
....
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