The next day. 8:14 AM.
Kang Joon-Ho sat in his classroom, staring blankly at the whiteboard as his homeroom teacher explained the "power of logical deduction" using a stuffed bunny and a half-erased diagram that looked like spaghetti.
He hadn't slept much.
Why?
Because he couldn't stop thinking about that vending machine.
Not the gold.
Not the planetary-sized fortune under his shoes.
Not the fact that he secretly had ₩5 million in cash under his socks drawer, disguised inside an old Pokémon pencil case.
No.
His brain was stuck on one question:
"What the heck was the mystery snack labeled '?!!?!'?"
And more importantly…
"Does it taste like chicken?"
"Joon-Ho!"
His name was yelled at full volume.
He jumped in his seat, knocking over his pencil case and sending three pens, a half-used eraser, and one emergency gum flying into the air.
The entire class turned toward him.
"Can you tell the class what I just asked?"
The teacher glared at him with the same intensity she usually reserved for students who borrowed correction tape and never returned it.
Joon-Ho panicked.
He stood slowly.
Wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead.
And said, "…Banana milk vending machine?"
Silence.
Someone coughed.
The girl in the second row giggled.
The class president facepalmed so hard it echoed.
The teacher blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…You're either a poet," she said slowly, "or completely sleep-deprived."
"Both?" Joon-Ho offered.
"Sit down."
---
Lunchtime: The Accidental Prophet
The rumor spread like wildfire.
By lunchtime, several students were whispering about a mysterious "cosmic vending machine".
"Did you hear? Joon-Ho found an alien snack portal."
"No way! I bet it gives out limited-edition cola-flavored kimchi."
"He said 'banana milk' with such conviction, though…"
"Wait, I thought he was mute? He talks?"
Joon-Ho sat in the corner, eating rice with canned tuna, his head low as the whispers grew around him.
He tried to ignore it.
But then…
His sister arrived.
---
Yes. His Sister. In His School.
Soo-Min marched into the cafeteria, even though she wasn't a student here.
She held up a drawing of a vending machine with tentacles and angry eyebrows.
"THIS!" she shouted. "Is this what you meant when you screamed in your sleep last night about alien snacks?!"
"…Why are you even here?!" Joon-Ho hissed.
"I followed you."
"WHY?!"
"Because you're acting weird! You never have cash. Now you suddenly order fried chicken, sing in the shower, and hum the 'Rich Uncle' ringtone while brushing your teeth."
"That's circumstantial—"
"You also have a drawer that smells like gold and banana peels."
The entire cafeteria went silent.
Then someone shouted, "HE'S AN ALIEN!"
---
Later That Day: Hide, Joon-Ho, Hide
He ran.
Out of the school.
Past the school cat who judged him silently.
Back home.
Up the stairs.
Into his room.
He slammed the door shut and collapsed on the floor.
"Okay. I need to be more careful," he panted. "No more talking in my sleep. No more space juice chugging before bed."
> [System Notification]
You have unlocked a new feature:
"Mystery Snack Roulette!"
Would you like to spin?
"…Right now? While my life is falling apart?"
> [Yes]
"…Fine. But if I get spicy squid chips again, I'm uninstalling you."
---
POP!
He vanished from Earth again and landed beside the vending machine.
The same silver box blinked at him.
Now, a new button appeared:
[Mystery Snack: Spin Wheel]
He hit it.
The machine rattled.
It clunked.
And finally — a glowing snack packet dropped into the tray.
He picked it up.
It read: "Interstellar Onion Ring: May or May Not Reverse Gravity."
"…That's fine. I wasn't planning to obey physics today anyway."
He opened the bag.
The smell? Unholy. Like garlic, battery acid, and tears.
He ate one.
Everything around him lifted — slightly.
The rocks. His shoes. His hair.
"...Am I floating?"
> [Side Effect: 7-minute hover mode. Please don't fly into space.]
---
Back on Earth: Hovering in His Bedroom
Seven minutes later, Joon-Ho landed safely on his bed — directly on top of his cat poster.
His sister opened the door right then.
Saw him mid-air.
Screamed.
"UMMA!! HE'S POSSESSED!! HE'S FLOATING!! HE'S BEEN EATING SPACE FOOD!!"
"I can explain!" he yelled, mid-air.
"No need! I'm calling a shaman!"
---
To Be Continued…