Chapter Text
You know how when you do something over and over and over again it starts to invade your dreams? Like playing the same game on repeat or working a soul sucking nine to five? Yeah, that's how Bak Yerim dreamed ever since she'd come to live with her aunt and uncle two years ago when her parents died. She worked so long in their little failing quick mart that she began to dream about working in that little failing quick mart. She'd always find herself mindlessly stocking shelves, never moving from the same spot and never getting a new box to unpack. Bak Yerim would just be perpetually kneeling in front of one of the shelves, feeling her joints creek and the uncomfortable rub of passed down socks on poorly fitted shoes, pulling any and everything from the box to her left to put it on the shelf to her right. The only thing to change would be when she realized the box was empty, the she'd look down to the box and find it full again, and the shelf empty. So she'd restock it again.
And again.
And again.
And, you guessed it, again.
At least the items changed when this happened. Yerim would go from stocking cans of corn to stocking boxes of macaroni to stocking bottles of cheap booze.
Same dumpster, different garbage.
But this dream, this dream was different.
That much Yerim's subconscious could pick up on. As she was ninety five percent sure they'd never stocked yarn before. Or needles. Or scissors.
And it was enough of a shock to her system to make her stop, no longer following the robotic need to do in her dreams what she did in real life, and take stock - heh - of her situation.
She wasn't in her uncle's store anymore, come to think of it, she wasn't in a store at all. She didn't know how to describe where she was at the moment. And when she looked back to the shelf, there wasn't a shelf anymore, just a wall of yarn. Big yarn. Like really big yarn. The strands had to be the size of Yerim, bigger even, almost as thick as her portly uncle. Further observation revealed that her surroundings appeared to be entirely made of the stuff. In front of her, a wall of red yarn, behind her, a wall of green yarn. Yerim was in a Christmas cavern of yarn it seemed. To her left, darkness, to her right, light coming from the mouth of the strange wooly cavern.
Obviously Yerim's genius mind chose to go right and walk towards the light. Not the best idea considering all the movies but there were worse or weirder ways to die she reasoned.
Now Yerim wasn't particularly religious, being neither Buddhist nor Christian, she was pretty sure that in any afterlife it wasn't supposed to look like you shrunk down to the size of a bug and scuttled across what had to be the world's largest arts and crafts table.
Behind her was proportionally a mountain of yarn that would have made Mt. Everest blush; and in front of her was the strangest landscape a bug like her could crawl through. Plateaus of thick hand made scrapbooks with homebound leather covers, stone mortars and pestles that rose up like skyscrapers reeked of natural materials being ground up and mixed with oil and water to create paint and other tinctures, an army of ornate luxury horsehair tail calligraphy brushes stood up like obelisks in the night stretching up so high Yerim had to crane her head to see and still couldn't find the tops, strange doll sat at odd angles like they had been walking giants stricken with some fantastical plague that knocked them dead on their feet.
It was this strange and alien landscape Yerim found herself fearlessly traversing, scaling mountains of discarded string, careful not to get tangled in it, and navigating dunes of glitter piled higher than most apartment buildings, until she came across a unique thing.
The only other living being.
At least Yerim assumed it was living based on the movements.
Sitting down at the crafts table - or possibly standing, Yerim didn't know how high up the table was from the floor - was a truly titanic being who would have found trouble breathing on earth due to her sheer size. A massive goliath of a woman - or at least Yerim thought she was female, definitely not human - who was busy at work with something in her claw like hands. She wore a mask the size of a small country, an intricate woven thing of every color Yerim could name, that covered the entirety of the upper half of the titan's face, seven long needle like protrusions extending out like a corona of silvery light, adding to the figures imposing size. But as Yerim gazed at the bottom half of her exposed face, she got the distinct impression that the behemoth was just as much craft as she was person, her smooth skin the color and texture of porcelain bone, as if it had been carved. Yerim found it hard to make out more details given the perceived distance between her and the god like figure, but the clothes seemed to be made from the same multicolored threads as the mask, covering everything except the face and hands.
And speaking of the hands, they seemed to be working on something, furiously darting in and out with an elegant yet machine like frenzy as she wove something in the palm of her hand. Something small, about the size of a stress ball if the titan was scaled down to Yerim's size, but was practically the size of a very small moon in the massive figures hands. And it seemed to be coming undone, bits and pieces of thread peeling off like they had been lazily taped on instead of woven, and the woman was furious at work trying to get them back into place.
Yerim watched her work, mesmerized by the smooth fluid like movement of the titanic hands, somehow aware that if the great goliath wanted to pick up Yerim, who was smaller than a flea to her, the woman would have no problem at all doing it and not squishing Yerim. Probably because she had weird spidery hands that ended in almost needle like points.
Actually, the more Yerim thought about it, the woman did look kinda bug like over all. Her mask looking like someone had torn the wings off a giant moth and sown over the pattern in fancy multicolored yarn. Her spidery hands that could weave the tiniest strands of silk with as much ease as opening a door. And there was something bizarrely pupae like about her clothes now that Yerim had the time to put it all together piece by piece, as the great titan of hand crafts wore a bizarre multicolored poncho synched around the face, revealing only her face, with little holes in the side so her spidery hands could work freely. There was a pulse to her form, as if undergoing a metamorphosis inside her strange rainbow cocoon.
And then she stilled, and though Yerim couldn't see her eyes, only the mothy false ones on the mask, Yerim somehow knew the woman had no trouble seeing her, tiny size and all. Her mouth opening slightly as she prepared to speak, the first indication that she was actually organic in some way and not a giant doll the size of a planet. And then she said-
"Bak Yerim! Wake up, you're going to be late for school!"
With a start, Yerim woke up to the sound of Unnie banging on her bedroom door, shouting a mumbled "I'm up!" As she flailed about in her cocoon of blankets, her limbs tangled up to the point she fell off her bed onto the hardwood floor with a bang. 'Ouch," She groused, before getting up and staring at her blankets like they had committed treason. Of course they would melt off like water on a ducks back the moment Yerim fell and bruised her elbow on the unforgiving hardwood floor. Maybe Unnie will knit me a rug if I ask nicely. She thought to herself, looking up at the window to see the early morning light just starting to stream in as the sun rose.
She could hear the sound of Unnie's muffled footsteps retreating down the hall, likely to the kitchen where Yerim knew if she didn't hurry up Unnie would make her one of the dreaded to-go smoothies to save time. She shuddered at the memory of Unnie's preferred manor of cooking, blending everything together cause "its all the same once down anyways." No one should have to suffer the misfortune of knowing what shredded steak, mashed potatoes, gravy, and steamed vegetables tasted and - more importantly - felt like going down.
But threat or not, Yerim couldn't help but roll onto her back to take a second to breath, dream forgotten, to stare up at the broom closet she called a room and smile. It had been about a month since she'd come to live with Unnie, better known as Han Yoojin or the Stitch Witch as he business cards put it, who owed Yerim's parents a favor that was passed on to her. A favor she cashed in by asking the weird hobo looking woman who had sat across the street from her aunt and uncle's stupid little failing shop to pay up by adopting her.
And that moniker rang true in more than one way Yerim could now say with proof, even if it was just her word, as all Yerim had to do was sign a piece of paper and she was out, she was free, she was now a normal teenage girl living a normal teenage life with the most abnormal group of weirdos and she wouldn't change it or anything else in the world.
And sure, the broom closet sized room was smaller than her old room at her aunt and uncle's; but it was hers. Not one she was temporarily taking cause the state said her relatives had to, but hers. She could decorate the walls with stupid K-pop posters, or the latest Hunter's Guild promo, or those weird string lights she had begged Unnie to get her when they were shopping for furniture despite Unnie saying they were a fire hazard. She was allowed to buy an obnoxious purple bed spread, "The color of royalty!" She had proudly proclaimed to Unnie and her eye roll. She had a broken down desk that she thought was neat and had gotten at a garage sale, proud of it because she had bought it with her own allowance and chore money, she got a splinter from the tetanus hazard but Yerim would be damned to part with something she bought and she owned! And as if to oppose the eye sore of a desk, Unnie had lovingly forced/gifted Yerim with an antique dresser that stood between her bed and the door, providing just enough room for said door to open easily but not all the way, as evidenced by the dent Yerim had enthusiastically smashed into said antique.
But all of it was hers. The bed, the dresser, the lights, the desk, everything.
So with that happy thought, Yerim quickly threw on her school uniform, an expensive posh private school uniform that was probably worth more money than the entirety of her extended family had ever owned and hurried to the kitchen.
Ears perked for the telltale sound of a blended being brought out of the cupboard and thankful when she heard none.
Instead what she heard was a very angry hiss as her feet narrowly avoided Unnie's pet weird pet cat that she was ninety five percent certain was a dungeon monster. Testing pending.
And while Peace sat and licked his phantom wounds from almost being stepped on, Yerim sat down at the dining table in the rinky dink kitchen dinning room that had as much personality as the stitched together Frankenstein family who called Unnie's granny house home.
Shooting Yerim the stink eye was Peace, who had come in from his sulk at almost being killed to take his rightful spot at the table on top of a pile of unused cook books stacked on a chair so the little red unikitty could eat with the people. Then there was Yoon-Yoon, Unnie's one true roommate, business partner, best friend for five-ever (cause its more than four), and self proclaimed king of the pranks and Dokkaebi; a person-goblin-thing that Yerim was forever locked in constant battle with for being Unnie's number one. But Yerim's second favorite person-animal-goblin was Yoo Myeongwoo, because he was technically the baby of this smorgasbord family as he had arrived after Yerim, the fact he was twenty five was irrelevant; Unnie's handy-bitch, as Yoon Yoon liked to refer to him, who was granted free board and food and double minimum wage to maintain the upkeep on the adjoining apartment complex Unnie owned right next to her house.
All that left was Unnie, who at the request of Yerim for her first day of school was making a Ghibli themed breakfast a la Howl's Moving Castle, making Yerim doubly glad she made it to the table before Unnie busted out the blender and to-go cups. Now the thing you needed to know about Unnie was the woman was chronically depressed and had the heart and soul of an eighty year old woman whose grankids and children never called or visited. Yerim was ninety percent sure that if it weren't for the combined efforts of everyone in the house the woman would never leave except for business reasons. Unnie dressed in perpetual lazy wear, either sweats or pajama bottoms, a handknit sweater under a handknit cardigan, long socks and fuzzy slippers when she was inside the house, long socks and Birkenstocks Unnie had bought on a whim while in Germany for a job when she was out of the house.
When the eggs and bacon were done, Unnie served everyone all at once, having used her largest (and only) wok to prepare everything without making melting it all together somehow. And when she was done and seated herself, began to pass out slices of bread she cut off from a huge hunk herself to complete the scene. Even Peace got his own share of eggs, bacon, and bread, though Unnie did use the special salt she reserved only for the damned furry feline once his portion was served.
In a discordant chorus, they all said "Jal meokkessumnida!" before digging in.
"Yerim, manners." Unnie said casually without looking up, scrolling through one of her weird craft books on a stand with one hand while she automatically shoveled food into her mouth with the other, as Yerim may or may not have also tried to emulate Howl and co by eating like Markl.
The Sorry might have come out like Surree but Unnie made not further comment or correction.
The meal was a rather quiet affair overall before they all broke off one at a time for the day. First was Myeongwoo who had to help the lovely elderly couple in apartment 2-B who were having internet troubles again. Yoon Yoon took several reminders from Unnie on what he needed to deliver today to clients who ordered some of Unnie's products and wares, before finally popping out of existance with a childish and long suffering 'FfIiIiNnNeE!"
Yerim finished before Unnie, who was usually always the last to leave the table as her average day meant she never had to leave the house, and Peace had been the first to finish eating, but was likewise never required out of the house and had moved to sitting on Unnie's shoulder and looking at the book with her pretending he could read - though he might have been able. The cat was weirdly smart and Yerim couldn't tell if that was because it was possibly a monster or a Unnie-witch thing. Peace may not have been black but he was still a cat.
And really, what was a witch without either a cat or a tall pointy hat?
Well if she had the former and not the latter she was a chronically depressed shut in with a bad habit of adopting strays and housing them pro-bono.
"Ready to go?" Unnie said when she was done. Closing the book with a wave of her finger like someone waggling 'come here'. A lot of Unnie's weird non-awakened magic was done with that same motion. And much like the average Joe doing their annual force check up on the remote out of reach, Yerim had tried the same every other week and gotten zilch. Not even a single page turn. It was very depressing for the self-proclaimed apprentice (I did not take you on as such).
"Yup!" Yerim responded, before immediately wilting under Unnie's steady gaze. She may be a shut in but Unnie had one of the best, if not THE best skin care and eyebrow routine. So when Yerim said Unnie's raised questioning brow hurt, it did critical damage. "Be right back!" She yelled into the kitchen before running down the hall to her room. Slamming the door open and then shut, she looked at herself in the mirror hanging from the back. She fixed her hair, corrected the mix matched buttons on her jacket, pulled up her left sock to match the right, and wiped the crumbs off her face. "Rea-" She was cut off by Unnie waiting just outside her door with that same raised eyebrow. Looking back into her room with a panic, Yerim found the school bag she had neglected to collect and nabbed it like a praying mantis did a fly forgetting what danger looked like. "Okay, now I'm ready!" She proudly proclaimed, earning herself a well practiced head shake that Unnie had perfected down to a T, mother's of five could learn a thing or two from Unnie.
And off they went.
Now the funny thing about Yerim's school was that it was on the opposite side of Seoul, in the center district where most of the S-class guilds and important government facilities were, where the richest of Korea's rich lived in the safety of powerful guilds and predictable dungeon breaks; as opposed to the abandoned slum district of Monster Town where Unnie not only survived but thrived. Here, dungeon breaks were random, doors never stayed open for more than a few minutes and had shut on many desperate hunter party without warning or reason. Monsters made it out of dungeons with greater occurrence and ease than in the Center district.
Yerim vaguely recalled a manga she had read with her dad way back when before the dungeons had made super heroes a reality about an overpowered depressed bald dude who lived in a similar situation.
And much like that dude could jump from one side of the city to another in an instant, so too could Unnie, just not with an actual jump. Unnie did it with a step.
One minute they were walking the streets of Monster Town Korea, and the next they were standing outside Geunseo's Preparatory School for Young Ladies. Apparently someone owed Unnie a favor, a very big favor, and that's how Yerim had gotten an all expenses paid scholarship despite mediocre grades that had tanked hard once her parents died and her aunt and uncle became her guardians.
"You have your books?" Unnie asked, fretting over Yerim's outfit in a way that made the fifteen year old feel warm and fuzzy inside.
"Yup!" She said, choosing not to check and fully believing in her awesome self to have everything ready the night prior. Afterall, Unnie nagged her six times until she did it, so of course she followed through before Unnie threatened to make Yerim take Peace for a walk.
"You have your phone? My business card?" Unnie inquired, licking her finger and smothering something on Yerim's cheek she must have missed, the fuzzy warm feeling increased as she felt a blush spread on her cheeks.
She checked her bags front pocket, finding her phone in its magical girl protector and Unnie's business card - a card made of silk mind you - tucked inside her jackets inside breast pocket.
Memories of how all she had to do was tear said card and Unnie would appear out of nowhere to save her made that warm fuzzy feeling increase just a little bit more.
"Alright then." Unnie said, taking a step back to survey her handiwork and finding it good enough! "Have fun at school kiddo." She said with an easy going natural smile, messing up Yerim's hair and forcing the teen to bend under the older woman's superior might.
"Ah, Unnie, stop stop stop!" Yerim cried, before running off to join the throng of arriving students who had been dropped off in limos and collector sports cars before turning back to wave at the woman dressed like a hobo who went unnoticed in the growing crowd. "See you at home UNNIE!" Yerim called, feeling elated as the familiar title slipped past her lips with ease.
Compared to the strangeness of her new normal, how bad could high school be?
Spoilers, it was very hard.