Reunion (5)
I came home empty-handed, having failed to score any Pyegi lunch boxes.
"I'm starving."
The second I kicked off my slippers, I sank into pure dilemma. Now what? Raid the fridge and actually cook something?
The moment that thought fully formed, my mood soured. Why the hell should I have to buy my own food with my own money? Pyegi is free.
…Honestly, even I was scared of how far my mindset had slipped, but that was the unvarnished truth of my heart. Freeloading is hard the first time. By the second or third, it starts feeling like a natural right.
Ugh. Can't even grind labor jobs anymore, and look how pathetic I've gotten.
Sure, the stream was growing, but I was still a total newbie. Compared to day-labor wages, the money was laughably small, so scraping by was just a fact of life.
"Haaah."
Figuring I had to eat something, I opened the fridge.
Inside sat a Chocomong I'd put in to drink cold, and a single stalk of green onion.
"Green onion and Chocomong?"
…
"Yeah, no. What am I supposed to cook with that."
It was a deranged combination. Green onion–flavored Chocomong. Sure.
I heaved a long sigh and shut the fridge. Next I dug under the sink, and there they were—the packs of plain ramen noodles I'd bought last time.
"Oh."
At the point where I was hunting expired convenience-store meals, my health was already a write-off. So tonight's late-night snack was decided: ramen. I put water on to boil and dumped the noodles in right away.
Bubble, bubble.
I added the soup powder I'd bulk-ordered online, too. That way I could eat a little cheaper than a regular store-bought pack.
"The smell is straight-up violent."
In a better mood now, I sliced the green onion from the fridge and tossed it in. Green onion Chocomong was apocalyptic, but green onion ramen? That was a genuinely righteous pairing.
"Ugh."
A little later I hauled the whole pot over and sat in front of the computer. Chopsticks up, I shoveled it into my mouth like a starving animal.
Munch, munch.
"Yasss."
It definitely tasted good. But the fact that I was filling my stomach with my own resources still pissed me off to no end.
How am I supposed to vent this grief?
The second that thought hit, one name floated up—my personal emotional dumpster. DeepSeaCleaner. And wouldn't you know it, he was online.
Earth had just shut down its servers.
Lately my form had been absolute peak.
You absolute bastard, you're enjoying this way too much!
This is a survival issue for me!
I knew that. But…
The chat went quiet for a second after I said that.
Suddenly he was dragging it out. Maybe, as a fellow broke-ass, he was about to drop some advice—budget tips, or how to fill your stomach with water alone. What DeepSeaCleaner actually said, though, blew right past every prediction I had.
"Huh?"
I set down the pot I'd been drinking broth from.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
My typing speed skyrocketed.
The nerve of this guy.
Who the hell was taking care of who here. I genuinely could not tell.
"…."
What do I do. I think I'm going to cry.
Is this the comradeship of the dirt-poor…
Even the bottom of the barrel had its own kind of loyalty. How many years had we already suffered through this together? I'd never seen his face once, and somehow he still felt like family.
Roommates might actually work, then.
There was already one total lunatic in the neighborhood, so the timing was perfect. Plus the rent would stop vanishing from my account every month, which meant actual financial breathing room.
Bonus: we both played Asgard. Park two PCs side by side, run callouts, and our rank might shoot straight up. We were a bot duo to begin with, after all…
No. Wait a second.
In that instant I remembered something enormous.
I'm a girl.
I'd breezed past it because I was still living broke, but the other party was the problem. He was almost certainly an adult man. Sharing a room with him would make the whole picture extremely weird.
Clack-clack.
Yeah. Of course it's a studio.
"Eheheh, yeah right."
This guy's lost it.
Same old jokes as always. Sure, if I ever hit actual suicide-adjacent rock bottom he'd probably help, but expecting anything big from it felt like a stretch.
After that I closed Asgard. It was bedtime. He still seemed to want to keep talking—the Asgard alerts on my phone kept going off one after another—but I ignored them just enough.
"…."
I snuck a glance at my phone.
…If I can't do day labor and the stream completely tanks, maybe I should think about it once?
We both played Asgard. We were a bot duo. Could actually be fun?
"Hmm."
But the positive thoughts didn't last. In the end, this body of mine was a woman's.
Shit. Then we'd just look like a regular couple.
With that broth-pig bastard?
Just imagining it made me feel like I was going to break out in hives.
If I were still a guy, I'd have packed my bags and barged in already.
Morning. But not an ordinary morning.
"Urghk!?"
I tried to get up lightly and was hit with savage muscle pain through my entire lower body. Probably from pushing myself way too hard yesterday. The aftershock of that full-speed sprint to escape HardHeavy had finally come to collect.
"Augh, my legs."
I rubbed my face into the blanket and forced myself up.
Still gotta work out, though.
I was sore as hell, but I had zero intention of taking a day off already. When the DOMS hits, the least you should do is some light stretching.
I'll just walk it out today.
I threw on clothes and headed outside. The dawn air was viciously cold. I was out a full hour earlier than yesterday—deliberately shifting my workout time to dodge HardHeavy.
No way I see him today.
I left the studio village and picked up my walking pace. About thirty minutes of brisk walking later, something shaped like a bear came charging through the dawn fog from the opposite direction.
Pectorals standing out sharp and clear under a short-sleeved T-shirt…
"Hm?"
The second we hit recognition distance, his eyes went wide.
"Good morning!"
HardHeavy. The moment he spotted me, that thuggish face of his broke into a pure, sunny smile that did not belong on it at all, and he flapped his hand back and forth.
"Huuu…."
I pressed a hand to my forehead and sighed. This stalker bastard. Don't tell me he'd been waiting around until I showed up here.
"You're out early! Morning exercise really is the best when you do it this early!"
That purely delighted expression. A genuine maniac, no other word for it. A lunatic whose operating principles I could not begin to understand.
"Maybe I should just change the time slot entirely starting tomorrow… Or just go into debt for a treadmill."
"Pardon?"
"Hmm. Best option might be moving out of the neighborhood…"
Should I just actually move into that catfishing broth-pig's studio for real?
"No!! That's going too far!!"
"The one going too far is you, you stalker bastard!"
"Do I really make you that uncomfortable? I only wanted to say hello as a neighbor—and as a wholesome sportsman!"
Yeah, yeah.
"We said hello, right?"
We're done, right?
"Good morning. Uhhm. Hello. Then I'll just be on my way."
I spun around immediately. Stick around any longer and there was no telling what would happen.
Clomp, clomp.
Thud, thud.
…
Okay. Situation fully assessed.
"Son of a bitch! You want another round today, is that it!?"
Call the cops!
"No! Today is genuinely not that! This is literally my usual jogging route! If we just go as far as that intersection up there, our paths split!"
There weren't many people around. So I broke into a full sprint toward the commercial district.
Tap-tap-tap!
If I could just make it to the busy streets, people would help me like yesterday.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
It felt like a giant was chasing me from behind. I pushed my speed even higher. But the giant closing in from the rear was way faster. Without omni-directional mobility gear, there was no shaking this thing.
"Jogging route my ass! Look at you scrambling to keep up the second I start running for real!"
"W-wait, ADC-nim, please just hold on a moment!"
"You think I'm stopping?"
"Your form—your posture is off! Are you not feeling well, by any chance…?"
Urgh. I was already running with my teeth clenched. Yesterday's overdoing it had left me seriously sore.
But I absolutely could not tell him that straight.
The second I did, he'd go heh heh, so you've gotten weak, guess you can't fight back anymore—and then put a face-crushing roundhouse through my skull.
"Heh… hehhk."
Out of breath, and every sore muscle screaming.
"That's dangerous! Regulate your breathing!"
The moment HardHeavy shouted from behind—
"Hek…"
"Look out!"
His urgent voice hit my ears, and then…
My vision flipped. The asphalt floor rushed up to meet me.
WHAM!
I went rolling across the asphalt.
In spectacular fashion…