Food Court

The third death I faced left aftereffects greater than any that had come before.

"……."

My body, which had been pushed past its limits, returned to its original state. My grotesquely swollen belly flattened again, and my torn clothes knit themselves back into place — yet what had just happened refused to leave me, no matter how hard I tried to shake it free.

The memory of being used through both my mouth and my lower half. Of being treated like a tool by that octopus.

I'd rather forget. I'd rather die like this and let it all disappear.

What good was a clean mind and a restored body when the filthy memories were still so vivid…?

And the more humiliating truth was this: I, too, had been steeped in that drug-like pleasure, moaning obscenely as I serviced it of my own accord.

The terrible moment still circled inside my head — my skull splitting with pain, my body floating in a drug-hazed fog, taking that fishy, sticky fluid over every inch of me while I rocked my hips.

Why did I have to be handled like a tool…? This is my body. This is my freedom. Why does something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just take it whenever it wants…?

Because I wasn't strong enough? Because I was just another victim who'd been dragged into this bizarre place?

Confronted for the first time with treatment that was less than human, my body began to shake on its own, and tears spilled down my face.

I don't even remember when or how I died — so it really does feel like I was used once and thrown away…!

"Hic… h-huu…."

I hugged my knees and sank to the floor, sobbing without restraint.

The proof of my first love — something I'd only get once in a lifetime — stolen from me when something that wasn't even human, an octopus, forced itself on me. The thought was so sad, so bitterly unfair, that I could barely stand it.

With no scrap of information to cling to, all I had left were these chances at resurrection that might never end.

This strange place, where nothing happened unless I moved myself, had me digging into the floor where I sat, unable to go anywhere.

Maybe next time I'll end up in something even worse.

Maybe… maybe if I just cry here until I die, everything will be over…? Wouldn't that at least be a less miserable way to go?

I'd once read that suicide was an act of hoping, one last time, for someone's hand. Of course, even if I did that here, there would be no one to stop me — no one to help.

Everything I would have to face and explore myself, and along the way I would lose more and more until I finally went mad.

So what if I have multiple lives? I only have one mind.

With my will completely broken, I sat there and cried, and cried, and cried.

I'd meant to keep going until I collapsed from exhaustion — but before a few hours had passed, I staggered to my feet.

"……I'm hungry."

Even in a situation like this, my stomach had the nerve to growl. It felt almost cruel.

My body had been restored to its starting state, so I hadn't actually gone long without food — but the time I'd spent dying over and over had left me starving on a mental level.

What was the last thing I ate? For lunch I threw together a simple chicken-mayo rice bowl… ah, don't think about it. Thinking about it just makes me hungrier.

I dug through my bag with the desperation of someone clutching at straws, but all my little handbag held was a compact mirror, a cosmetics pouch, lipstick, and a mask — nothing even remotely edible.

Ah. There's still a little water left, though.

I lifted the plastic bottle — about a third full — as carefully as if it were holy water, and cast my mind back to when I'd first explored near the information booth.

There wasn't even a convenience store, let alone a vending machine. Don't tell me starving to death is some kind of time limit?

Th-there wasn't even a restroom, was there? Even if I die, I want to die like a human being until the end!

"……."

I stared down at the bottle for a moment, then shook my head firmly, drained every last drop, and flung it away.

Even if I die, I'm dying as a pretty corpse. I'm not going to live filthy!

Anyway — if I wasn't planning to die like this, I had to find something to eat. And if I wanted to die with any dignity, I needed a restroom, too!

The human heart is a treacherous thing. Faced in an instant with the risk of losing every scrap of human dignity, I shoved the trauma aside, wiped myself clean of it, and sprang to my feet.

Look on the bright side. At least I escaped a life of shame as that octopus's wife, laying its eggs.

Still, I couldn't help that the image of that awesomely enormous octopus kept flickering behind my eyes. It wasn't the kind of thing you could just brush off and be done with.

"I shouldn't have tried to look nice. I should have just worn sneakers."

I was still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cursing my aching ankles and these high heels, trudging along — when I saw a sign on the ceiling of the corridor toward the information booth that hadn't been there before.

Food… Court?

Normally, when you come up from a station platform, the corridor is lined with shops — convenience stores, restaurants, that sort of thing. Even stations without those usually have at least one vending machine by the platform entrance.

So even if the food court itself isn't open, there should at least be a vending machine!

The thought that I might not have to starve to death sent strength surging through my whole body.

Ready to bolt the second anything lunged at me, I kept my surroundings under tight watch and made my way to the area around the information booth.

What had once been nothing but a platform entrance and an information booth now truly had a Women's Restroom that hadn't been there before — and above it, a sign announcing that the Food Court was fifty meters ahead.

It's weird that there's only a women's restroom with no men's at all… but then again, I'm a woman, so I don't exactly need the men's, do I.

I'm not desperate right this second, so I'll just wipe off this makeup that's been completely ruined by tears and get moving again.

Thankfully, I'd been carrying a large cosmetics pouch packed with everything I owned, so I was able to wash my face properly with cleansing foam.

Bare face or not, does it even matter? Just scrub it all off.

"Huu…."

After finishing my wash, I glanced at my basic skincare products, shrugged, and picked up only the lotion.

Who cares about toner and essence? I could die at any moment anyway.

Washing my face with warm water left me feeling much better, and I set off again with a soft, clean face.

But the Food Court isn't going to be weird like the information booth was, right? Nothing like, "That'll be one arm and one foot, please, ma'am"…

…Yeah, that would be entirely on brand.

Caught between Surely they wouldn't mess around with food? and This is Mujin Station — of course they would, I arrived at the Food Court.

Maybe because I'd been worrying the whole way there, I wasn't particularly surprised when I found the entrance sealed by a shutter and a sign that read "CLOSED."

"What, they're just shutting the whole place? This isn't hope torture…."

I'd expected it, but that didn't stop the disappointment from being real. I'd been looking forward to this, deep down…

Hungry and miserable, I was about to turn back with a pointless little sulk — when I spotted a familiar rectangular machine to the left of the Food Court.

A vending machine!

Thank god. I really thought I was going to starve to death with no way out…

I hurried over. The lights were on, and the upper shelves held the snacks, drinks, and water I knew.

But when I looked lower, the products at the bottom were… wrong.

"Ugh…."

Th-that hit way too hard all at once! There goes my appetite…

Faced with a sheet of face skin that still held a flush of blood, and a hand and face drained of every last drop of color, I thought I was going to throw up.

Fortunately I hadn't eaten anything, so it stopped at dry heaving — but I was still so nauseated I strained not to look down any more than I had to.

When I was little I cried so hard seeing a Barbie doll's disassembled face… this feels exactly the same…

The only reason I didn't turn and run without looking back was pure hunger.

If I die, everything resets. So for now, just buy something I can eat.

But when I slid my card into the slot to pay, nothing happened.

Come to think of it, there's no "Please insert card," no blinking LED — none of the usual card-reader responses. Don't tell me this is broken too…?

Thankfully, when I pressed hard on the button for the product I wanted, a soft mechanical voice crackled out with instructions.

At the same time, a strangely shaped coin slot slid open, revealing a hole a little larger than an adult man's finger.

Ugh… it's not going to be like what I was thinking earlier, right? "The price is one of your fingers!" I shouldn't have imagined that…

Something about this feels wrong, but I don't have a choice. I have to eat to live.

Maybe it was the faith that even if I died, I'd come back — my hesitation didn't last long.

Still, just in case, I figured I shouldn't use my dominant hand. I carefully eased the index finger of my left hand into the hole. Thankfully, there was no sharp sting, no cutting edge.

After a short wait, the woman's mechanical voice flowed out once more.

No more thinking needed!

I chose a familiar yukgaejang-flavor ramen, a triangle kimbap, and an electrolyte drink, then hit the payment button.

"Heuk—"

With a beep and the sound of products dropping, my body suddenly felt heavy.

Thump. Thump. My heart was beating faster than usual. My head felt a little foggy, but my mind was still clear.

"Huu… huu…."

My legs gave out for a moment; I barely managed to lean against the vending machine and hold myself up. Only after catching my breath could I take another step.

What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the hell did it do this time…!

As if answering my thoughts, a voice spilled from the machine.

An exchange rate of 1:4… don't tell me that meant paying in blood?