A World Without Life
It was even more terrifying that the message declared there were no living beings, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Dong-hee felt as if she had stepped straight into a scene from a horror movie.
Your Earth is !@#$%@#$^$@%&^* due to !@#%^&!@#$^&*) and is currently in the process of *^((^&%$%$#^%.
On top of that, the status window was littered with incomprehensible phrases. Wondering if she had misheard, she stared at the screen until her eyes burned, but the text remained a jumble of unrecognizable symbols.
“It doesn’t look like code… what on earth does it mean?”
Your Earth is !@#$%@#$^$@%&^* due to !@#%^&!@#$^&*) and is currently in the process of *^((^&%$%$#^%.
But the status window simply repeated the same message. She wanted to demand answers one by one, yet the fear still clung to her, so she decided to let it go for now.
“…It does mean… it’s safe, right?”
Gathering what little courage she had, Dong-hee walked slowly toward the convenience store visible ahead.
The fog lining both sides of the path like rows of trees brushed against her skin, but it carried no dampness. Instead, a warm, comforting sensation melted the tension from her shoulders.
She glanced sideways as she walked, just in case, but saw nothing except the fog. The statement that no other living creatures existed here kept echoing in her ears, raising goosebumps across her arms.
The fog walls stretched endlessly upward and outward, far beyond where her eyes could reach. They rose so high and extended so far that she couldn’t even guess where they ended.
It really is scary.
Her steps quickened as she kept darting glances left and right. The store was right in front of her, yet somehow it felt impossibly distant.
When she finally reached the convenience store, Dong-hee hurriedly pressed the open button and scanned her surroundings.
She kept imagining an alien creature bursting out of the thick fog, sinking teeth into her neck and laying eggs in her stomach—just like a scene from a horror film.
“Hurry, hurry!”
She had worried the door might not open, but with a soft mechanical hum, the automatic doors slid apart.
In a space where no other sound existed, the noise of the doors opening seemed deafening.
It was a sight she had seen a thousand times, yet she still flinched and instinctively stepped back.
While she hesitated, the doors began to close again.
“No, no!”
Snapping out of it, Dong-hee pressed the button once more and slipped safely inside.
It was just an ordinary door that anyone could open, but simply being inside the building brought her enormous relief.
Everything was exactly as it had been during her part-time shifts.
The store lights glowed brightly, the chilled refrigerators were packed with instant meals and drinks in perfect rows, and the shelves overflowed with snacks, ramen, and more.
“Boss?”
She approached the counter, cautiously poking her head over it as she called out.
This space contains no other life forms besides the User. Is your head bad?
The status window that reappeared displayed the sentence quietly. The question mark at the very end was written in noticeably smaller text.
What was that? Why the tiny letters?
Did it think she wouldn’t see them?
“My head is not bad, okay? I was just calling out once!”
The moment she spoke, the small text was hastily erased.
Even though she had answered boldly, the realization that she was truly alone here caused the fear she had pushed down to creep back in.
Still, she had come all this way. She couldn’t leave empty-handed, so Dong-hee summoned her inventory.
The inventory she had deliberately emptied before coming here was completely vacant. She had wondered if it would appear in the shape of a bag again, but it didn’t.
She picked up a chocolate roll from the shelf and touched it to an empty inventory slot.
With a soft shuk, the bread vanished from her hand and appeared inside the inventory, displayed in a slightly translucent state.
“No matter how many times I see it, it’s still amazing. But is this really okay?”
Just as guilt over her very first act of theft began to rise, the chocolate roll she had placed in the inventory reappeared on the shelf as if nothing had happened.
“Huh? Did I not put it away?”
Thinking she must have been too nervous and imagined it, Dong-hee picked up the chocolate roll again.
“It’s already inside?”
Yet the inventory clearly showed the chocolate roll already stored there.
“What the—! Why is it still there!”
The chocolate roll she had taken from the shelf was back in its original spot. The packaging wasn’t even wrinkled, as though no one had touched it.
“Holy crap. This is insane!”
Unable to believe her eyes, Dong-hee placed the roll into the inventory once more.
The bread reappeared.
This time she moved even faster, shoving the bread into the inventory while staring wide-eyed at the empty spot. But it didn’t reappear.
“What? Is there a limit to how many times it can respawn?”
Her eyes began to sting from keeping them open so long. The instant she blinked, the bread reappeared.
It was like a staring contest. The bread refused to appear while she stared without blinking, but the empty space filled the moment her eyes closed.
This time she neatly stored strawberry bread and cream rolls as well. The empty spaces were instantly refilled in the blink of an eye.
“Whoa…”
She was marveling at the bizarre system when another status window appeared before her eyes.
“The activity radius changed to two.”
It seemed the number had increased from one to two after the convenience store was added to the semi-basement studio.
She wondered how high each value could eventually rise. Reading carefully in case she had missed anything, she discovered the starred sentence attached to the trait section.
“Tends to obsess over chocolate rolls? Me?”
It probably registered that way because she kept grabbing the same item out of fascination at how the bread kept respawning.
No, that’s a misunderstanding. I’m not obsessed with chocolate rolls.
Dong-hee shook her head vigorously, then felt the action was pointless and left the convenience store.
“At least I won’t have to worry about starving.”
Carrying food with plenty of shelf life left felt strange. Not to mention she hadn’t paid for any of it.
Her conscience pricked at her, so she glanced back at the register. The counter was still empty except for the tacky, bright-blue convenience store vest she used to wear, hanging there all alone.
“My lord, what is all this?”
When Thelma returned to the room, her eyes widened at the sight of the breads scattered across the bed.
“Hm? Oh… it’s nothing special. Want to try one?”
Before Thelma could ask where they had come from, Dong-hee quickly tore open a chocolate roll and thrust it toward her face. The moment the packaging opened, a sweet aroma flooded the air.
Thelma swallowed hard without realizing it, reached out, then quickly stepped back.
“To give something so precious to someone like me… I couldn’t possibly accept.”
Even as she shook her head, Thelma couldn’t tear her gaze away from the rich chocolate bread, completely captivated by its scent.
“Precious? There’s plenty more. And no matter how precious it is, I have to give some to you, Thelma!”
Thelma’s thin, sparse eyebrows drooped with emotion as tears welled in her eyes.
“My lord…”
“Go on, eat it. Yeah?”
She pushed the bread a little closer. Thelma hesitated for a moment, then accepted it respectfully with both hands and glanced at Dong-hee once more, as if seeking permission.
When Dong-hee smiled brightly and nodded, Thelma finally took a bite.
The moment the chocolate roll entered her mouth, Thelma’s eyes doubled in size.
“This is the most delicious bread I have ever tasted in my life. It’s so soft!”
After saying that, Thelma took another bite. Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed. Once they returned to normal, she continued in a voice thick with emotion.
“And so sweet!”
She took yet another bite, tears glistening in her eyes.
Watching Thelma react as if she had gained the whole world from a single two-thousand-won bread felt oddly moving.
Dong-hee suddenly felt like she had become someone truly remarkable.
“It’s heavenly!”
After polishing off the entire roll in just four bites, Thelma closed her eyes and spoke as though offering a prayer.
Feeling a pang of sympathy, Dong-hee handed her one chocolate roll, one strawberry roll, and one cream roll.
“Eat these too.”
Thelma’s expression as she accepted them was pure bliss. That was when it happened.
A red heart the size of a five-hundred-won coin rose above Thelma’s head and burst with a soft pop, like a soap bubble.
What was that?
Dong-hee hurriedly called up the status window to check the residents’ favorability.
Current territory resident favorability: -189,490.
It had gone up by ten points.
She wondered if she had seen it wrong because it happened so quickly, but apparently she hadn’t.
The cute little heart that had floated above Thelma’s head seemed to be the visual marker that appeared whenever favorability increased.
She had discovered a way to raise favorability, but there was still a long road ahead.
Maybe giving delicious food really was the best method?
Still, ten points for four pieces of bread seemed like terrible cost performance.
“My lord.”
While she was pondering how to raise favorability faster, Thelma’s careful voice broke in.
“Yes?”
“Would it be all right to share these breads with the others?”
“Of course. They’re yours to do with as you like. Oh! Then take these too and share them.”
Dong-hee pulled several more breads from her inventory and held them out. A heart rose above Thelma’s head again and burst with a pop.
This one was twice as large as the last.