Chapter 4: Parsley Market (2)

Welcome to Parsley Market! Let’s proceed with the simple registration process.

Lee Taejun, dimension set to: Earth.

Immediately, the Status Window shifted, accompanied by brief instructions, expanding to the size of a 32-inch monitor.

Staring at the basic screen of “Parsley Market” that had surfaced before my eyes, I asked, “Management Mi, did you really develop this entire feature yourselves?”

Everything, from the UI to the item list and settings panel, was a perfect clone.

The only difference was that instead of everyday items like iPods, One Piece merch, or shoes, the list was filled with items straight out of a fantasy game.

The administrator put on an act of cluelessness.

In the end, I gave up on pressing him and began scrolling through the densely packed list.

The items themselves were one thing, but the seller’s location was utterly bizarre.

The name sounded like it belonged in a traditional medieval fantasy setting, while the place names seemed straight out of a cyberpunk world. Even the planet names sounded like they were from a deep science fiction film.

But before I could even process the sheer spectacle of this dimensional feast, Management Mi sent an emoticon:

“Dimension-filtered?”

“So there used to be restrictions.”

Well, makes sense.

In a fantasy world where swords, spells, and magic are everything, imagine what would happen if someone started trading SF weapons like a high-powered plutonium railgun.

That’s why medieval fantasy should stay medieval fantasy, and SF should stay SF.

They’ve set up restrictions to only allow trade between dimensions with somewhat overlapping worldviews.

But…

Management Mi paused briefly, as if contemplating something, then continued in a lively tone:

No.

“Shouldn’t we report this to superiors or something?”

It wasn’t that it wasn’t necessary; he probably just didn’t want to complicate things by reporting it.

Well, if he’s not reporting it to his superiors, that’s good for me.

“Fine, then. Let’s give it a try.”

My finger hovering over the market window began to move busily.

Thirty minutes later.

“This isn’t easy,” I muttered, arms crossed.

The app’s functionality was virtually identical to secondhand marketplaces in the real world. It included a reporting system to prevent professional traders and bulk wholesaling, a “Status Window Temperature” representing transaction trustworthiness, and a review system for traders to leave feedback for each other. Thanks to this familiarity, adapting to the app’s features proved effortless.

“It’s just… I have no currency to pay with.”

Could it be because of the chaotic fusion of multiple dimensions? Most transactions in the market used a common currency called Parsley Coins. These coins could only be recharged using Magic Stones obtained from monsters.

And here lies the problem.

It was impossible to purchase Magic Crystals with cash to recharge my Coins.

Is Coin Recharge currently unavailable?

With such pathetic stats, I couldn’t even defeat a single Slime.

Selling unused items here to earn Coins is out of the question too.

Creating a sale post and selling something directly required meeting several conditions.

And there was also a limitation specifically targeting me:

[ The administrator is currently collecting data from the Earth dimension. During this time, Passing Porter ] is unable to post sale listings on the market.

The entire function of posting sale listings was completely blocked by the Parsley Market administrator.

It’s just a secondhand trading app—why are there so many restrictions?

As if on cue, Management Mi sent a dejected message from the side.

Truthfully, Management Mi didn’t need to apologize.

The reason I was complaining was simply because I was powerless and penniless.

Given the situation, should I try challenging a Rank 5 or 6 dungeon?

But even that would be difficult with my leg in this condition.

It was right then…

“Huh?”

My eyes, scanning the sales listings in frustration, caught sight of a post:

The post immediately drew my attention:

I quickly checked the details.

At the very bottom of the post was an image of the potion, housed in a palm-sized flask, that looked like it had been hand-drawn by the seller himself.

It seems the dimension where this seller resides isn’t one where photography is widespread.

Still, based on the drawing, it looked like an ordinary healing potion—one I recognized.

“Hmm.”

The fact that they’d consider trades other than coins was fortunate, but…

“Why is this guy’s status window temperature so low?”

The problem was the temperature displayed beside the seller’s ID in their status window. It had plummeted to near-subzero levels.

The status window temperature rose or fell based on the review scores left by previous traders. The better the reviews and the more courteous the transactions, the higher the temperature climbed. Conversely, negative reviews from traders would lower the temperature.

“This… this is practically scammer level?”

5 degrees. My status window temperature, even without a single transaction, was 30 degrees. For reference, according to the Parsley Market rules I’d read earlier, reaching 0 degrees resulted in permanent transaction suspension.

“First, let me check the reason.”

I clicked on the seller’s ID and began scrolling through their transaction reviews.

There were about forty other reviews with a similar tone.

Management Mi, who had been reviewing the feedback with me, sent me a message.

“Just as I thought, he’s a scammer.”

Still, he wasn’t a perfect scammer.

Every customer complained about the unconscionable exchange rates.

At least the seller’s potions were functional, according to the notes.

In that case, the transaction itself might be worth trying.

“Management Mi, there’s one thing I want to confirm.”

“I’m definitely the only Earthling with the latest Status Window?”

“So, there’s never been, and there never will be, another Earthling who’s used this Parsley Market besides me?”

“Okay.”

It’s worth a shot, since I have nothing to lose.

I immediately activated the keyboard function in the Status Window and sent a message to the seller.

Less than ten seconds after sending my message, I received a reply.

I glanced down at my thigh, which was wrapped in bandages.

Then, I began typing.

Before initiating the transaction, I set my ID’s dimensional information to private. Since there were no real disadvantages to hiding your dimensional information unless you were a seller, I figured it was the safest course.

“Hold on. I just checked, and the official seller upgrade requirements include a Status Window temperature of 50 degrees.”

Medicine Joa: Porter-nim, are you still there~ hehe

The scammer who had reduced their Status Window temperature by a whopping 45 degrees spoke up again.

At that moment, a new message appeared on the side of the Status Window.

I immediately approved the request.

Then, I took the item I wanted to trade from my pouch.

As I placed it on my hand, blue light surged from the Status Window, scanning the item.

The image popped up in the chat window where I was talking to the seller.

I checked the 360-degree view of the item.

A long, mysterious object resting on my palm.

Its surface glowed with a luminous blue like a gemstone.

At its center, the golden letters “Hot Breath” were embroidered.

Yes.

It was the chocolate bar I’d bought at the convenience store last night as part of a buy-one-get-one-free promotion, costing 1,000 won per bar.

But unlike before, when the seller had replied within five seconds, they remained silent for a while.

I wondered if they’d been so disappointed by the image that they’d left the chat, but that wasn’t the case.

About five minutes later, they sent this reply:

How best to describe it?

I gazed at the chocolate bar in my hand, lost in thought for a moment.

Then, I promptly tapped on my Status Window.