Worse Than Monsters
After purifying the contaminated gallery on my smartphone, I moved on to the shopping app.
Wet wipes for the field trip, two decent lunchboxes. And toilet paper, which had completely run out at home lately. Body wash was almost gone too, shampoo as well…
Wait. I was looking for picnic stuff, wasn't I?
I stopped my fingers—which had been moving in a complete trance—as the thought suddenly struck me, and checked the cart where I'd been tossing everything.
I'd only tapped a few times to drop daily necessities into the cart, yet the total was already a six-digit number. I was horrified at the price tag for how little I'd actually put in, but one way or another, these were things you needed if you wanted to survive in this world.
After double-checking that the picnic items were solidly covered, I hit the order complete button. The smartphone chimed with a notification that roughly a hundred thousand won had vanished in an instant.
"Mari, what did you order?"
Matching the chime, Siyeon poked her head over the stairs of the bunk bed and asked what I'd gotten.
Come to think of it, we still hadn't had dinner, so I needed to order something anyway. Lying down, I shook my head and turned toward the stairs to answer.
"Not yet. Why? Something you want to eat?"
"Fried shrimp!"
Siyeon called it out so promptly she must have really wanted it. Figuring fried shrimp was something almost nobody hated, I typed it into the delivery app search bar.
Most of the results that scrolled up were pork cutlet places.
"Fried shrimp, fried shrimp…"
Since they already had the fryer going, they seemed to sell all kinds of fried sides too. There were quite a few pork cutlet shops, but I scrolled looking for one that also carried fried squid.
It was labeled squid cutlet, but it was really just squid rings. Whatever, that was fine enough—I skillfully added a pork cutlet meal that came with rice, plus the fried shrimp and squid rings, and ordered.
The smartphone's notification chime felt especially grating today.
Ugh.
For two little elementary school kids it was basically one or one-and-a-half servings. Even ordering just this much came to nearly twenty-five thousand won, and all I could manage was a silent sigh mixed with reluctant admiration. By the time they hit middle or high school, two of them eating would easily clear fifty thousand, wouldn't it?
More than any evil monster, these ever-rising prices were far more evil and terrifying.
A soft rustle of plastic bags being set down at the door. Then the doorbell, announcing the food had arrived.
"It's here!"
With short little strides Siyeon scampered for the door. I climbed down from the bunk bed stairs after her and headed for the front entrance.
Click—the door opened. Beyond it, only the food sat there. The delivery person had already vanished with the wind. Back when delivery apps first started, plenty of drivers would hand you the food right at the door, but these days they seemed so busy that by the time you opened up they were already gone.
What a cold world.
The plastic bags that felt so heavy at this age, we both gripped and grunted our way over to the low table. Part of me wanted to abuse my magical girl powers for an easy life, but there was always that "what if," so I held back in everyday living.
Small hands delicately worked at the tightly knotted mouth of the bag. For tiny, precise work like threading a needle, being small was actually an advantage. Nice.
Tick. My fingers slipped off the roundly tied knot.
Being small is ni…
With a rustle I focused on the knot again.
Tick.
Once more my nails failed to undo the firmly tied knot and slipped free.
Ni…
With the flexibility and delicacy of small hands, I finally unti—
Tick.
Couldn't untie it.
Ni—this is fucking bullshit.
At the nails that skidded off the end of the knot right to the very last second, I cursed inwardly. Even if it was for food safety, annoying was still annoying.
Humans are tool-using animals. I fetched scissors from the kitchen and just cut the knotted section clean off. Should've done this from the start. Wasted effort for nothing.
We took the food out one by one and set the main pork cutlet lunchbox in the center of the table. I passed Siyeon the fried shrimp still in its container and brought the squid-ring fries over for myself.
"What's that?"
Siyeon pointed with her fork at the round fried things. She was still pretty clumsy with chopsticks, so she was using a fork. Of course I couldn't let her stick to forks forever, so I occasionally bought kids' chopsticks and made her practice.
"Fried squid. We were going to eat squid earlier, but you said you wanted shrimp."
Right after I answered, she seemed to remember the squid monster a beat late—her eyes lit up.
"Ah… Me too, just one!"
Siyeon started eyeing my fried squid. I wasn't about to hand it over that easily. If I just said no, it'd only spark rebellion, so I opened negotiations.
"I'll trade you one shrimp."
"Ah."
From that short little reaction, negotiations had failed. Even I could see one squid ring for one fried shrimp wasn't a fair deal.
"Then two squid for one shrimp."
So I renegotiated: two fried squid rings for one shrimp.
"Umm… Okay!"
At Siyeon's nod, the deal closed. A disposable plastic lunchbox packed full of pork cutlet and rice, plus squid rings and fried shrimp divided equally.
If we were going to do this, wouldn't it have been better to just share from the start?
"Thanks for the meal—"
"Whew, I'm stuffed."
For once the disposable containers were wiped completely clean. At the kitchen sink I wiped the grease from the dishes and piled them into a small bin so I could throw them out all at once over the weekend. Sorting recyclables was a pain, but it had to be done.
I gave silent thanks for a day that, for once, passed quietly without a single alarm even after the meal. But lying face-down on the bed, I sank into another worry.
What am I going to do about the field trip lunchbox…
That was it. Thoughts about the picnic lunchbox. Whether you wanted it or not, it was the thing that started comparisons among the kids. I didn't need a masterpiece, but I at least had to pull off something decent.
Picnic. Lunchbox…
What an ordinary person with zero artistic talent naturally reaches for is videos or photos. Making a character with a colorful face in the lunchbox was completely impossible. So I settled on a full helping of fried rice shaped as prettily as possible, plus octopus-shaped sausage sides, braised quail eggs, and a few pieces of fruit.
…Assuming I wasn't putting characters in the lunchbox, this was the best I could do.
Suddenly the list of things to buy at the supermarket grew again. Instant rice, canned ham, and eggs for the fried rice. Refrigerated braised quail eggs and sausages for the sides. Last of all, cherry tomatoes and Shine Muscat grapes for dessert?
…That's more than I thought.
Considering the field experience learning—i.e., the picnic—was Monday, time was tighter than expected. Even if I had to go to the supermarket twice alone over the weekend, I'd have to buy everything. I could order online, but delivery times weren't consistent, and if something got delayed it'd be a real problem. Better to go to a little trouble and be sure.
With those thoughts, late Friday evening arrived. Still lying in bed, fiddling with my smartphone.
This sound…
The hollow clack of plastic against plastic. The empty metallic ring of cans knocking together. The sharp clink of glass bottles meeting, like they might shatter any second.
It was time for recycling. Last weekend I'd completely forgotten and left the trash sitting in the house, so this time I absolutely had to go out.
So damn annoying…
If the trash piled up too much, there was no way this body could haul it all at once. Even if I had to make multiple trips, I had to keep taking it out regularly.
Plastic bags were light trash with just leftover bulk from eating things, so no big deal—but the problem was general trash and recyclables. The volume wasn't small, and with this little body, even if empty plastics just stacked endlessly in the recycling bin, it was still hard work.
"Haa."
With a short sigh I stepped out to the stinking apartment complex trash area and set down the plastic bag of recyclables. I grabbed the necks of fabric softener bottles and shampoo bottles that barely fit in my small hands and tossed them in properly.
Then, holding the general trash, I headed to the general trash area—and there was the teddy bear whose neck had been torn off and regenerated sometime.
"……"
The mouth of the trash bag I held in both hands. Using a bit of spin, I flung it straight onto the teddy bear.
"Guek!"
A bizarre sound like a human scream rang out, and the eyes of people dumping trash subtly focused our way. But when the owner of the voice didn't appear, they figured they'd misheard and went back to dumping their own trash like they'd never looked this way at all.
After cleanly dealing with the house trash, I returned home and scrubbed my hands thoroughly with soap. Lying on the round yarn carpet in the living room looking at my smartphone, an unfounded drowsiness started to pour over me.
"Yaaawn…"
Whether the teddy bear came back or not. Declaring the day's work done, I dragged my yawning, sleepy body, turned off the lights, and set foot on the stairs to the second floor.
Thump thump thump. At the familiar noise I looked up at the ceiling. Thump thump thump. At the sound again I climbed onto the bed and pressed my ear to the ceiling just in case—but that unpleasant vibration didn't ring out.
Not the ceiling?
When I carefully tracked the source of the noise, it was toward the veranda glass window. I pulled the curtain aside, and there was the teddy bear, looking thoroughly haggard, banging on the veranda window.
I immediately put on my fuzzy indoor slippers, flipped down the latch locking the window, and opened the veranda glass door. Then, right away, I stepped on him so he couldn't come in.
"Kuhek!"
"Soak yourself in soapy water in the bathroom for three hours, then come to the living room."
"Yes, ma'am."
With a crisp reply he flew into the sky and squeezed through the open bathroom door gap. In the spot he'd passed, the stench of the trash area where general waste had piled up still clung thick.
Wait. It wasn't just that smell.
This scent that was nostalgic yet one I absolutely never wanted in the house. With a sinking feeling I slid the window wide open, switched into the shoes on the veranda, and hurried my steps. The nicotine aroma, clearly even stronger now.
Half-expecting it, I put my hands on the railing, climbed onto the foothold, and looked over—and there was the pale smoke rising from the floor right below.
Ah, fuck.
Truly despairing neighbor luck. Things had quieted down for now, but upstairs: cat lady plus floor-noise girl. Downstairs: a public menace who smokes on the veranda?
Carrying the feeling of being plunged into the abyss, I immediately closed the veranda door and came back in. From the aluminum tin next to the computer, I grabbed a strawberry-flavored lollipop. I went straight out beyond the apartment front door and plopped down on the stairs.
Using a shortcut that partially manifested magical girl traits, I raised only my index finger from my clenched right fist and pointed it at the end of the lollipop stick. As hot heat rose to my fingertip, the dizzying scent of melting plastic stabbed my nose.
I couldn't help but light the end of that sweet lollipop.
I hate humans.