The next morning, Muyeong stood before the noodle stall. In the harsh daylight, it looked even grubbier than he remembered. Greasy steam, smelling of boiled pork and old oil, billowed out onto the street. This was his stage.
He took a deep breath, letting the calculating predator in his mind retreat and allowing the desperate, pathetic Muyeong to surface. With his shoulders slumped and his eyes fixed on the grimy floor, he shuffled inside.
A heavyset man in a sweat-stained apron was screaming at a cook. This was the owner, Old Man Jang.
"What do you want?" Jang barked, not even bothering to look at Muyeong. "We're not open for customers."
"Please, sir," Muyeong said, his voice quiet and shaky. "I'm looking for work. I'll do anything."
Jang finally turned, his gaze sweeping over Muyeong's thin frame with open disgust. "Work? You look like a strong wind could knock you over. I need someone strong, not a twig. Get lost."
"I'm stronger than I look," Muyeong insisted, bowing his head lower. "I'll work for half of what you pay anyone else. Just for one day. If you aren't happy, you don't have to pay me at all."
The owner's yelling stopped. The words "half pay" and "free" had caught his attention. Greed was a simple language. He squinted at Muyeong, seeing not a boy, but an opportunity for cheap labor.
"Fine," he grunted. "One day. You scrub the grease trap and haul dishes. You slack off, you're out. The dish pit is in the back. Now move."
Muyeong bowed deeply. "Thank you, sir. Thank you."
The dish pit was a foul-smelling corner of the cramped kitchen, piled high with greasy bowls. Muyeong plunged his hands into the murky water without hesitation. The work was disgusting and exhausting. The tubs of dirty dishes were heavy, and the stench of old food was nauseating. He ignored it all. The filth and the exhaustion were simply the price he had to pay for his goal.
Then, the clock on the wall ticked past 12:30. The lunch rush was in full swing.
Muyeong felt a subtle change in the air, a quiet pressure of disciplined mana that no one else would notice. He kept his head down, scrubbing furiously, but all his senses were on high alert.
Hana had arrived.
He risked a quick look through the serving window. She slipped into her usual corner table, a ghost in the chaos. To everyone here, she was just another customer. They ignored each other perfectly.
His heart began to beat faster. It was time.
After clearing his current load of dishes, he called out to the owner. "Sir, the tub is full. I'll take it out."
"Hurry up! More are coming!" Jang barked back.
Muyeong lifted the heavy tub, his arms trembling from the genuine strain. He moved out of the kitchen and into the narrow, crowded aisle between the tables, his path taking him directly past Table Seven.
Closer. Closer. He could see her now, focused entirely on her bowl of noodles. Her guard was completely down.
He shifted the tub's weight and "accidentally" caught his foot on a chair leg.
He stumbled forward with a convincing yelp. To everyone else, it looked like a clumsy busboy about to cause a huge mess. His left hand shot out to catch his balance.
It was over in less than a second. His grimy fingers brushed the back of Hana's hand.
The touch was feather-light. In that tiny moment, a silent, golden explosion no one else could see detonated in Muyeong's mind.
[Physical Contact Confirmed. Divine Copy Activated.]
[Target: Hana, Bureau of Surveillance, Section 7]
[Copying Talent... Success.]
[Talent Acquired: Imperceptible (Legendary) - Lv. 1]
> Description: A passive talent that bends light and perception around you, making you naturally easy to overlook, forget, and dismiss.
[Copying Skill... Success.]
[Skill Acquired: Perfect Persona (Mythical) - Lv. 1]
> Description: An active skill that allows you to alter your physical body, facial structure, voice, and basic mana signature to create and maintain different identities.
[Cooldown Initiated. Time Remaining: 30 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes.]
A flood of knowledge surged through him—the principles of changing his face, the subtle art of being forgotten. It was all his now.
Hana's head snapped up, her eyes sharp as glass. A wave of pressure washed over him, the instinct of a trained predator.
Muyeong immediately let the dish tub crash to the floor. "I'm so sorry!" he cried, dropping to his knees and frantically gathering the dishes, his head bowed low. "So sorry!"
Old Man Jang's roar covered the noise. "You useless idiot!"
Hana watched the pathetic boy on the floor for another second. She saw nothing but a clumsy child. The moment was unimportant. She turned back to her noodles.
Muyeong, still on the floor amidst the mess, allowed a triumphant, invisible smile to grace his lips. The price of invisibility had been filth and humiliation.
And it was the best deal he had ever made.