Gomi was almost at her limit. She bit her lower lip, tapping her fingers on the plexiglass counter of the convenience store, like she was playing an invisible piano. Her heartbeat stuttered, and she glanced outside, a nervous habit she couldn't shake.

The sun was sinking below the neighboring apartment complex—not a high-rise, but enough of a marker to tell her it was getting late. Too late for her comfort.

“He’s late,” Gomi growled under her breath, clenching her fist and slamming it onto the counter. A few packs of gum toppled from their display. “Again!”

An older man, who had been loitering in the store far longer than any normal customer, flinched at the noise. He shot a scowl in her direction.

The look irked her, but Gomi forced it down. She raised her hands and gave a quick, apologetic bow. “Sorry.”

She was already losing her cool.

The man’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing, resuming his aimless wandering through the aisles with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

Gomi couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, her gaze returning to the street, searching desperately for the night-shift part-timer. She checked her watch—7:20 PM. She should’ve been home by now. 

The guy was always late!

She’d told the boss over and over that she needed to leave by 7:00, and he’d promised to talk to the evening shift part-timer. But here she was. Again.

Finally, the lingering customer approached the counter, holding a bottle of water in his right hand. Gomi eyed his left hand, still stuffed into his pocket, the bulge looking a little too bulky for just a hand.

“Are you ready to check out, Sir?” she asked, keeping her tone polite.

The man slammed the water bottle onto the counter with a grunt.

“Just the water?” Gomi asked, forcing a smile through gritted teeth.

“Are your eyes just for decoration? Do you see anything else here?” he barked. “Hurry up.”

Don’t let it get to you. You need this job. Think about Dad. Gomi inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment before grabbing the bottle.

The old man began grumbling under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. “Damn kids these day don’t know how to be respectful to their elders.”

“Ahjusshi…” Gomi released a loud sigh while resting her head on her hand, leaning over the counter.. “We both know god was not kind enough to gift you…” her eyes dropped down to the man’s pant leg. “... that.”

When she raised her eyebrow, the old man’s face grew bright red. “W-Why you…! Brats like you are useless. You’ll probably work in a convenience store your whole life and never amount to anything.”

Snap.

“What the f*ck did you just say?” Gomi’s nostrils flared as she shot him a sharp glare.

The man blinked, clearly startled, but quickly recovered, his jaw tightening. “Did you just swear at me?”

“Are your ears for decoration, old man? I asked you what the f*ck you said.” Gomi crossed her arms, not backing down an inch.

His eyes darted side to side, and Gomi could practically see the fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. He took a small step back, trying to create space between them.

“Y-you’re crazy.”

At least he got something right. “You’re right. I am a little crazy.”

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, shaking her head. It was always the short ones with a complex. At 5’11", she towered over most women—and men—in Korea. But this guy was an extra little one.

Gomi leaned forward, her hand darting out to grab his left wrist and yank it from his pocket in one swift motion. Years of taekwondo training had given her lean muscles, and the man’s wrist felt fragile in her grip.

A sneer tugged at her lips as they both stared at the green glass bottle in his hand. “Even if god gave you this gift, your face is beyond help.”

The man trembled in her grasp. He wasn’t just small—he was weak, too. Fear flooded his eyes as he searched for a way out.

Too late. The sun had already set.

“Time’s up, old man.” Gomi shrugged. “You picked the wrong person to piss off today.”

“Y-you better let me go right now!” he stammered, his voice trembling. “O-or, or—”

“Or what?” She tightened her grip, pulling him closer. She could shatter the bottle in his hand if she wanted to. That would teach him a lesson.

Ding dong. The door flew open, and a boy, panting as he clutched the handle, burst in. His work vest buttoned unevenly. “I’m here!”

The part-timer bowed deeply, his shaggy hair flopping over his eyes. When he looked up and saw the scene before him, his eyes widened.

“Y-you there!” the man shouted, as if spotting his escape. “Call your manager! This crazy worker assaulted me!”

The part-timer straightened, clearly confused. “Assault…?”

Gomi yanked the soju bottle from the man’s hand and plunked it onto the counter. Unbuttoning her vest, she tossed it over the bottle and made her way toward the door.

“If he tries to steal again, call the cops,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m out.”

The part-timer nodded frantically, but the old man lunged forward, grabbing her wrist as she turned to leave.

Now who’s the crazy one…

“I’ll turn you in to the cops!” the man hollered.

Gomi slowly turned her head, glaring down at him. There was nothing stopping her now, nothing holding her back.

But before she could say anything, the man yelped and released her wrist, stumbling back. He scrambled out the door, shouting over his shoulder, “I b-better not see you again, or I’ll really sue you for assault!”

“For a garden gnome, he sure runs fast,” Gomi muttered.

“I’m so sorry!” The part-timer’s bow was sharp, practically a right angle. “I should’ve been here earlier to handle him. Next time, I’ll be…” he prattled on.

Pfft. Like this scrawny kid could handle anyone. Gomi imagined herself flicking him into another dimension with a single finger.

She tied her hair back into a ponytail and walked toward the door, not bothering to look back. “There better not be a next time.”

Ding dong. The door shut behind her.

“Because, if I see that part-timer again when I’m Bomi, I’m gonna beat his soul into the next dimension,” she growled, shoving her hands into her pockets. 

When the sun goes down, so does the polite and controlled Gomi–awakening her night alterego who was reckless, uninhibited, and aggressive. An alterego that her childhood friend declared as Bomi (Bam-night Gomi).