Life is Just Boiled Potatoes
"Ugh... potatoes... life is boiled potatoes..."
Mumbling to myself in my sleep and rolling around, I opened my eyes five minutes before the alarm was set to go off. Better than sleeping through it and slapping it off blindly, I guess. I stretched lightly and replayed the dream I'd just had.
Maybe because of the wild imaginings before bed, my dreams had been pretty chaotic. My parents cheered about their successful operation, abandoned me at a rest stop, and dumped potato and fish cake soup in front of me—then a truck barreled toward me, hurling me into some bizarre xianxia world where I reached the realm of True Immortal with the Boiled Potato Technique.
"You potato-hearted scum! Turning our entire race into boiled potatoes! Sure, we used mortals to craft pills, forged soul treasures from their spirits, forcibly bred more of them, and turned those with spiritual roots into puppets—but you targeted our innocent kind..."
Anyway, it was a dream I never wanted to have or even imagine again. I shut off the alarm five minutes early and shuffled out of my room into the living room. Luckily, my cleanup last night had been perfect—the floor was spotless, no stickiness anywhere. I tossed the cola-soaked pajamas and underwear I'd soaked in the sink into the washing machine quietly, erasing the evidence, and let out a sigh of relief.
"Haru, you're up? I heard you going in and out of the bathroom at dawn yesterday. I told you, no matter how much you love Jisu, eat that tteokbokki in moderation..."
Mom's machine-gun nagging, prepping breakfast in the kitchen, poured out like rap lyrics—but in my half-asleep haze, it went in one ear and out the other as I mumbled a response. Ugh... so annoying.
"Yeah, yeah... I'll eat in moderation..."
"Good, good... Speaking of which, your dad's in his forties and practicing idol dances with his boss? And people actually like it? The world's ending, I tell you..."
Oops... maybe I should've just slept in? I shoveled down breakfast with her nagging as a side dish, washed up quick, and got ready for school.
Free from Mom's lectures on the walk to school, I listened to the MR track I'd finished for Prank's Function on my wireless earbuds. Recreating songs from the man's memories meant that even after finishing an MR, I'd spot new flaws here and there.
That's why I was obsessively replaying it, checking for any errors without a single mistake.
Haa... such a hassle...
Honestly, my motivation was tanking. NewTube comments kept rolling in steadily, but maybe it was because there was no live vibe to it?
Making songs was fun, but I craved interaction with others—especially fellow fans. Not that I'd stoop to chatting with that weirdo who'd confessed to Jisu, but the idea of going live? was growing on me.
I pushed open the classroom door, and there was Jisu, as always, already seated and studying diligently. Her perfect-student routine made her look every bit the main heroine from a Japanese anime—especially with that hime-cut straight out of one.
If I were the novel's male protagonist despite being a girl, she'd check all the boxes: major role, always hanging out with me, classmates since elementary school, and a bunch of other tropes.
The classic childhood-friend heroine. Sure, they always end up as the losing heroine, but just imagining it was pretty fun.
"My Haru... you did all the studying I told you to, right?"
"Wha— of course."
For a split second, her eerie expression—not her usual playful one—made my heart stop. She started overflowing with mischief normally, but as exams neared, she turned into a study maniac. Terrifying.
"Uwing..."
I hate studying so much. That's why I'd slacked off, pretended to study, bashed my head on the floor, and unlocked the man's memories.
With arts and PE classes turned into self-study, exams were definitely closing in.
I killed self-study time with Korea's time-honored tradition of balancing pens, pretending to study while recalling Prank's Function lyrics—maximum slacking. Sure, you could argue last night's cramming plus today's skipped study equaled zero progress, but it was too boring to care.
Finally, fourth period ended, and lunch arrived. The classroom was weirdly empty even for lunch hour—everyone skipping meals to study? Cramming wouldn't change much dramatically, but their effort was impressive.
"Eeeing..."
"Why's my Haru grumpy again?"
"Studying sucks too much..."
"Still gotta do it."
"Uung..."
Jisu patted my back soothingly, but hating it didn't change. Being in Seoul meant everyone was study-crazed, unlike the man's rural memories— I felt out of sync.
"Oh... tteokbokki..."
I hadn't had any lately with Jisu, so today's school lunch was perfect timing. Lucky me, I thought, tempted to say some cheesy game line, but I ate quietly instead. Dad's game company had flexible hours unless a critical bug hit, so he'd come early to match my school end time.
Gulp...
Even the delicious tteokbokki tasted meh with my low energy. After classes, we finished cleaning quick, did inspections, and Jisu and I parted ways. Exams meant her tutoring was booked solid—no playtime, which sucked, but today was different.
"Haru! My princess! Over here!"
"Ah..."
Dad's super embarrassing car idled near the school gate with hazard lights on. I lightly smacked my forehead, cringing at the sight. Game industry unspoken rule: the bigger the otaku, the better the work... and Dad held a high position there.
"Seriously... we have a normal car..."
His favorite ride was an itasha—that anime-wrapped car you see at doujin events. Not cheap, but the most garish fandom wrap from auction, mocked online—not your everyday sight in Korea.
"Whoa! Sports car!"
"Whoa! Itasha!"
A few schoolmates snapped pics nearby, reacting differently. Sure, otaku-edition wrap, but the base was pricey—I just ducked my head and got in.
"Dad... next time... just take Mom's car..."
"I drove this to boost your mood! Looks flashy, but it's straight from Italy—"
"...Just drive."
In the embarrassing car, I pulled sunglasses from my bag for shameless mode and we rolled out. They actually amped my vibe.
With the shades on, I pictured some guy yelling, "Open your eyes, Lee Haru!!! The world with your remembered J-pop and your orphan life—that's the real one!!!"
"So, how's school life treating you?"
"Eh... it's alright..."
Dad ruffled my hair proudly with his right hand. Moses miracle effect from the sports car—other drivers steered clear.
"Eyes front! Front!"
"Oh, right."
We nearly hit the guardrail, but after twists and turns, we parked at the district office and grabbed a number ticket. Weekday or not, it was packed with people. Papers pre-filled, processing took less time than waiting.
"Thank you."
Now just online music registration left—which Dad would handle anyway. On the way out, he patted my shoulder.
"Anything else you need?"
"Hmm... gotta sing the songs myself, but Mom's home..."
"Hmmm... want me to borrow the company studio? High schooler on 'field trip'—"
"Nah... too big a deal at your work. I'll handle it."
I ditched my overprotective dad, hopped in the car, and headed home. Moses miracle round two—something the man's memories never had. En route, I signed up for a streaming platform.
Finally, weekend tomorrow?
Even if production's a blast, loneliness hits. Solo song-making turns into sage mode eventually. So tomorrow's vocals? Streaming them live. ...People will show up, right? A TS beauty's debut stream blowing up is basically common sense, yeah?