Version 2.1's New Features
I tapped the app open in a hurry.
To you who have resolved to become a father — we cheer you on in this new journey! Take a look at all the benefits Version 2.1 of the Manito Shopping app has to offer!
You who struggle to gain a new family! May miracles touch everything your hands reach! — [Explore New Features]
"······."
Had Gabriel been a spy for whoever made this app?
If not, how else could they have known I'd decided to adopt Luca?
Last time I'd searched, I hadn't been able to find any social welfare company called "Angelus."
I poked around the app. It worked fine. My accumulated points were still there.
I closed it, checked again, reopened it — still the same.
Was it really okay to keep using an app that vanished and reappeared on its own whim?
For a moment, the words of that development team employee from yesterday rang through my head.
No, wouldn't that be amazing if it were true? Points equal to whatever you spend — everything's basically buy-one-get-one-free! If it were me, I'd use it for the rest of my life and never tell a soul.
Thinking about it, he had a point.
I had no idea how this app was even being run, but the packages arrived like any normal transaction, and the points were something the app itself volunteered to give me. Nothing for my conscience to snag on.
Maybe it was just some eccentric billionaire's hobby. You know how rich people on TV sometimes have those weird quirks?
For all I knew, some wealthy someone had hired hackers out of pure goodwill, wanting to help underprivileged neighbors like me.
"······But they say nothing in this world is free."
Judging by the app's description alone, it was framed as social welfare support for raising a child.
So why only me?
"······Ah."
Maybe it wasn't only me. Maybe kind-hearted people were helping single-parent families in secret, true to the name "Manito" — like secret friends.
I still had no idea how any of this was possible, but setting that aside, I sorted the current situation out in my head.
One: buy something, and points equal to the purchase stack up. If I spent a hundred dollars on living expenses, I could buy another hundred dollars' worth of something else.
Two: that was the same as my usable living expenses doubling.
Three: if I spent carefully, I might end up better off than if I worked to scrape living money together.
I hesitated for a moment, then made my decision.
"I'll use it."
Beyond covering living costs, I also needed to save for the adoption process. And raising a child going forward would take a steady stream of money, too.
Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Some win the lottery. Hell, some just walk a golden road because luck follows them no matter what they do — and I've never been any of those people.
So I'd treat this app as a small stroke of fortune that had come to me and my child, and use it.
It was an app of unknown origin, but the process of paying a fair price and buying goods was no different from any ordinary app.
I'd use the points they claimed they'd give for three years as a welfare benefit, and if they ever demanded I pay them back later, I'd deal with it then.
Be bold! They were the ones kindly offering the support. No matter how hard I looked, there were no disclaimers, no fine-print terms of service.
Having made up my mind, I went back into the notification I'd seen earlier and checked out the app's new features.
May miracles touch everything your hands reach!
Miracles, huh.
······Don't tell me they triple the points or something?
Heart pounding, I pressed the "Explore New Features" button.
Items purchased with points in Manito Shopping Ver. 2.1 grant the buyer Artisan's Proficiency.
Example 1) Purchasing cookware lets you cook with greater skill.
Example 2) Purchasing tools lets you craft or repair items with greater skill.
"Proficiency boost······."
I read the explanation over and over, trying to properly understand the notification.
So basically, using items bought with points would make you produce better results at whatever you did — as if a buff had been applied in a game.
There was no way something like that was possible······right?
This wasn't the domain of the rich. This was the domain of gods.
Points stacking equal to what you spent was an unbelievable, enormous benefit — but it wasn't impossible to implement. You just needed the tech and the money of whoever built the app.
But raising your ability at anything you did? What skills did I even have?
"If that actually worked, it really would be a miracle······."
It was an absurd claim — and that made it perfect for letting my imagination take flight.
Me, who couldn't cook, suddenly plating food like a chef. Ordering lumber and building furniture better than anything store-bought. That kind of fantasy.
······Furniture. Should I try making some? Worst case, I break even.
I had decent hands, at least, so I wouldn't produce something completely unusable. And of course DIY was cheaper than finished goods.
The catch was that buying tools with points meant I first had to spend real money to stack those points. I currently had all of two points left.
After a brief deliberation, I bought a reasonably priced stroller.
I'd need one anyway if I was going to work the apartment complex with a baby in tow.
"Alright, then."
I checked on the sleeping child, then looked around the house. The thing I wanted to get my hands on first was a baby crib.
He couldn't roll over yet, but the moment a baby starts moving even a little, you need a guard rail.
And so the storm of searching began.
Then I saw the prices of baby cribs and nearly had a heart attack.
Search for a baby crib and the first results were beds shaped like cars or clouds in every color imaginable — and the prices defied imagination.
Even plain, ordinary cribs without any special shape were more expensive than I'd expected. An adult bed was actually far cheaper.
Seriously, how is a baby crib more expensive than an adult bed······.
Sure, standard-size beds that sell in higher volume would naturally be relatively cheaper. But no matter how I looked at it, infant furniture felt like it was shamelessly exploiting a parent's love for their child.
Even I, if I had the money to spare, would have desperately wanted to order some adorable dream-car bed for a baby.
But in my current situation, I couldn't drop a month's salary on furniture the kid would outgrow in three years.
The problem was that even assemble-yourself baby cribs were expensive.
"Hmm······."
Was making a baby crib really that hard? The structure itself looked simple enough.
Thinking that, I launched into another storm of searching, and soon learned that building a standard crib-style baby bed was actually pretty tricky.
Still, these days you could order wood or steel pipe cut to whatever dimensions you wanted. If I drew up a plan, ordered the pieces, and assembled them······it seemed doable.
Of course, that was the ignorant confidence of someone who knew nothing about woodworking.
But if you actually had the skill to make it, DIY really was much cheaper. So maybe I could just simplify the design a little.
"Right. If it won't work, I'll make it work."
I said it out loud like a vow, then pulled out a blank notebook and started sketching several designs.
Just in case — not too tall, simple shape, but sturdy. I referenced the useful ones among the images I'd captured while searching.
Come to think of it, there were mobile beds with wheels, too. Wheels would have all kinds of advantages.
Even while cooking in the kitchen, I could roll the baby into view. When cleaning, I could move the whole bed out of the way.
Sketching away, I somehow ended up with a design that looked like a flower cart.
I studied it for a moment, then drew a handle on one side so you could push and pull it like a real cart — and suddenly it looked much more convincing.
Hmm······. For the lower frame holding the wheels, I could add a small box for simple storage.
Since this was my first try, I'd buy the wheels as a ready-made set that could be safely assembled······.
Payment complete.
I ordered lumber from a shop that would cut and sand the wood to match my simple diagram, and ordered a small latex mattress in cash as well.
With points, I ordered a tool set from "Editor's Pick!"
In the end I'd spent far more than my original budget, but that was just how furniture prices were these days. What could you do?
And the tools were something I could keep using going forward.
······Or so I told myself for comfort, though I was still a little uneasy.
I hadn't just wasted money, right? I could do this, right?
Feeling like I'd somehow done something wrong, I hurriedly texted the building manager that I could start working in a few days.
Right. I'd just earn back what I'd spent.