Strange Rest and Gukbap Cravings
Something felt off about this mesugaki break... Why the hell was I even here? Just moments ago, I'd been scratching at my neck in the bathroom. But when I snapped back to reality, there I was in the living room, bundled up head to toe in a blanket, just sitting there motionless.
Gurgle... Oh, I'm starving. After all that crying and carrying on since morning, it was weird that I hadn't felt hungry until now. No point moping around forever—nothing changes from that. Might as well grab something to eat first and think later.
My stomach was growling so loud I rummaged through the house for anything edible.
[Food Level -1]
[Failed dalgona leftover from yesterday.]
[Food Level 3]
[Milk that looks like it'll make you grow taller.]
Hmm... looks like nothing? Milk would've been okay, but it's way too light for breakfast. My rumbling gut wasn't gonna be satisfied with just a drink...
Yesterday's stream made decent cash—maybe I should hit up some gukbap?
Gukbap. Whether in this world or anywhere else, it was one of the ultimate value meals—packed with nutrition and guaranteed to fill you up. Hot broth, fluffy white rice, and endless side dishes that never ran short. No wonder cost-conscious folks loved it. For that price? Steaming gukbap and generous sides? My mouth was watering already...
Slurp—better throw on some clothes and go.
Light blue shorts and a white tee. Among my meager wardrobe, it was the comfiest, most decent combo. Sure, women staring still creeped me out, but it beat wearing anything ratty or stretched-out around the neck. Living poor meant I barely had anything intact. Hell, even the ones that looked fine were cheap market buys that'd rip with one good tug, ruined forever. Once I make real money, clothes are priority one.
I threw on something passable and headed out the front door.
Ugh, damn it's hot today~ The sunlight felt like it'd scorch my skin black. Blinded for a sec, I squinted and shaded my eyes with my hand. Nope, not enough. How's anyone supposed to block out the sun with just one hand? It's not like you gotta touch it to know it's blazing.
"Hm? Jaejun!"
"Ah, shit..."
Today's Choi Jaehee had switched it up—no regular cig, but puffing away on a vape like it was going out of style. Vape... heard those are even worse for you than cigs? And the smell was weird too—fruity mixed in, not the usual nasty tobacco reek. If it was outright repulsive, I'd dodge easy, but since it wasn't that bad, I was stuck in limbo, neither avoiding nor approaching.
Fuu~ Where you headed?
"To eat."
"Oh, breakfast run~ Wanna go together?"
Why's she extra clingy today? Vape in one hand, she sauntered over slow. Fuck, hate that smell. Growing up watching my dad chain-smoke everywhere had soured me on cigarettes big time. The house always stank, and that godawful trapped-car stench? Pure hell.
"Back off."
"Aww~ We used to stick together all the time~"
"'Cause you reek of smoke. Back off."
"Huh?"
Left hand pinching my nose, right fanning the air like mad. I hate smokers. Jaehee looked shocked—her vape hand dropped with a clunk, face going full retard-mode. What a priceless expression...
"You hate the cig smell?"
"Fucking hate it. Makes me wanna puke."
"For real? Then all this time you were just...?"
"It's shit, so keep your distance when you talk. Can't stand being close with that breath."
I shoved her back with my right hand while stepping away myself.
"J-Jaejun?"
"You reek of smoke... Urk."
Hating the stench that bad, I turned tail mid-retreat and headed for breakfast. No real reason to chat with Jaehee anyway, and we weren't tight, so ghosting felt easiest. Me, Shin Jaejun (age 23, no gf), hate cigarette smell.
"Jaejun!"
I ignored her hard, flipping up my right hand on the walk. Middle finger only. The universal pro-level fuck-you—beautiful, wordless, works anywhere on Earth.
Retard bitch...
Next time, total ignore. Answering just eggs her on. They say indifference hurts attention-seekers worst—fits me perfect right now.
Gukbap... gukbap! Delicious gukbap~ Happy gukbap~
Headed to that bean sprout gukbap spot Jaeyeon unnie recommended last time. Cleaner than pork gukbap, with that signature warming vibe—lifted my mood right up. Kinda pricey for something I bought lately? Always skimping with convenience store crap or free soup kitchens, so today's bowl hit different. Tastier. Is this what uncles—no, this world's aunties—call happiness? Hogging food like this...
Belly full now~ What next? Since landing here, no real hobbies. Broke anyway—PC bang or chugging cola at home gaming was it.
Am I stuck living like this forever...?
—Bam!
"Ah, fuck!"
"Pfft~ Move it, you retard bitch—this big sis'll show you what a real punch is."
Smashing sounds nearby—I glanced over. Two schoolgirls in uniforms were going nuts at the punch machine, flexing their strength.
Punch machine? Why's that here...?
Arcade gear out of nowhere? I looked up to check the shop.
Arcade, yup.
Arcade, huh... Used to bet dinners and go nuts with the crew back then.
Pre-stock/crypto riches, we'd bicker over free meals like idiots. All gamers, each mains different—rhythm for one, fighters for me, and this beast with god-tier reflexes crushing motion games.
That dude's one-punch left my arm numb for weeks...
Old friends hit hard—suddenly craving arcade. Got cash now, why not?
"Whoa... inside's cleaner than I thought?"
Long time no see, but packed crowds made wandering awkward. Ow—just bumped shoulders with someone while glancing away. Ughhh... Short like me? One bad hit and I'm airborne. Tiny build helps nowhere—makes shit harder. Maybe bulk up with workouts?
"Hey, check that out."
"Whoa... fuck."
Two women yelling, pointing at something. My eyes traced from their faces down arms to fingertip...
There—
Tak-tak-tat-tat-tat!
"Meh, entrance-exam level at best."
"Oho, that one's got talent?"
"Ora-ora-ora-ora!!!!"
Top-tier weeb chicks clustered, gloved up, hammering a washing machine-lookin' rhythm game. To me? Glitchy mess. But they saw it all, pushing up glasses, grinning critiques.
Really? That's a rhythm game? Most were skinny twigs or heavyset—approaching felt risky.
"Yo, that's Bagua 64 Palm?"
"Nah, looks like an assassin drilling Shadow Assassination Fist?"
Ignore. Back in the day, I'd hide far off when my buddy played that weird weeb rhythm shit—too embarrassed to be seen. Kept me safe when school bullies shook him down; wallet intact. (We bought him tteokbokki cups after, obvs.)
Miss 'em... Jangwoo, Shinwoo. How you guys holding up? Your hyung got isekai'd into this clusterfuck. Hope you're good. Won't ever reach you, but reminiscing eases the loneliness.
Should I try rhythm games? Looks fun.