Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Fisherman and the Businessman
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What does it mean to live well?
Money?
It might sound superficial, but it's true.
Fancy cars, nice houses, good clothes, and delicious food.
And if you add a loving family and friends who listen to your worries and laugh with you? Perfect.
Throw in the power and influence to protect them all, and it's flawless.
But does having a ton of money really make you happy?
I'm not trying to spout boring philosophy here.
Of course money matters.
Having some cushion in the bank cuts down on immediate worries and eases future anxieties.
You could handle sudden accidents better than most, too.
But is that reason enough to grind away right now?
Money's a means to happiness, not the goal itself.
There's this famous story about a fisherman and a businessman.
One day, a wealthy businessman visits a beautiful seaside village.
He spots a fisherman napping in the middle of the day, not working.
The businessman asks why he's slacking off instead of working.
The fisherman says he's already caught enough fish for today, but the businessman finds him frustrating.
"Work harder in your spare time, make more money, buy a bigger boat, catch more fish, earn even more!"
The fisherman asks what he'd gain from that. He says he wants to nap whenever he feels like it, without working.
"But you're already doing that," the fisherman replies, and dozes off again.
What a great story.
No need to sacrifice present happiness for some vague future.
The businessman comes off as the bad guy, but he's not entirely wrong.
They just see happiness differently.
The businessman chases achievement-fueled joy; the fisherman prioritizes immediate comfort.
In reality, the fisherman was probably some master angler who only needed mornings to feed his family and neighbors, but whatever...
Anyway, after hearing that tale, I made the fisherman's words my life motto.
Enjoy happiness right in front of you over some distant future.
No reason to sacrifice the sure thing now for an uncertain tomorrow!
I'm the type who can't resist the marshmallow right in front of me.
Sure, planning for the future is nice, but who knows what'll happen first?
What if you slave away selling your youth, only to get hit by a freak accident? Wouldn't that be unfair?
Dying without spending the money you scrimped so hard for...
But if you party hard, skip prep, and drop dead? Not really unfair. Kinda natural, even.
A death in tune with the natural order.
Similar vibe: If you studied your ass off but bombed the test, versus not studying at all, guessing, and acing it—which would you pick? I'd take the latter.
Fun times plus grades better than expected? Double win.
Uh... right?
Even saying all this, I actually paid attention in class.
Ignoring the professor or teacher up front to mess around felt too guilty...
Point is, me doing jack squat in my room playing games? That's the result of deep, logical, philosophical pondering.
Not laziness at all.
[Victory!]
The enemy's base explodes with a boom, and the screen fills with cheers for our team's win.
"Whoa, that last game was insanely good."
I collapsed into my chair after pulling off what you'd call a game of a lifetime.
Deep down, I wanted to replay it and brag to someone, but with no one around, I just simulated it in my head.
'...Sign, trouble.'
Groooowl—
Savoring the afterglow buried in my chair, hunger hit hard.
"...I'm starving."
Why do humans need food and sleep? Such an inefficient evolution.
Can't we just... live without doing anything?
Plants make their own nutrients without lifting a finger. Makes you think humanity's still half-evolved.
Sucks to be born too early, stuck underdeveloped.
If reborn way in the future, I'd come back as a new human photosynthesizing with hair-foliage or something.
...Won't magically give me energy now, though.
But I'm wiped—maybe rest a bit, then—
Groooowl groooowl—
Before the thought finished, my gut tenant lodged a brutal protest.
Like it was scolding me for saying the same thing before that last game!
"No, I just thought it, just thought... Ugh!"
Unable to ignore the uproar, I dragged myself from the chair—only for low blood pressure to make my vision swim.
Sat too long, maybe.
Or blood sugar crashed.
Wincing, I staggered upright waiting for my sight to clear, then shuffled to the kitchen cabinet.
No point opening the fridge—it's just water.
"Ah."
No need to open the cabinet either.
The tuna can from three days ago was the last of it.
I remember eating just that, no rice.
Damn, three days with nothing?
And even then, it wasn't a proper meal.
Sometimes you don't feel a wound till you notice it—then it throbs.
Hunger hit the same way. Realizing it'd been three days unleashed a savage emptiness.
Groooowl
Clutching my gut—starving turned painful—I shuffled back to the living room.
Kitchen to living room was two or three steps, turning around.
Big houses are a pain to clean, and no point for a solo dweller.
Small place over mansion, rent over buy. Save that cash for better things. Pure fisherman philosophy in pursuit of happiness—
Groooowl
Quick on the uptake, huh.
Tried distracting with other thoughts, but no dice.
4 a.m... Too iffy for delivery.
Hit the convenience store...?
Might collapse on the way.
"Ugh, too annoying."
I checked the balcony outside.
Pitch black, nothing visible—just lazy to go out.
Then a savory scent teased my nose.
'...?'
A smell I'd never encountered.
Saliva pooling, I scanned for the source.
No one cooking at this hour, and it wasn't quite food...
Sweet, nutty... primal, instinct-stirring.
It came from the black plastic bag half-unrolled on the balcony.
Soil from Grandma for repotting my bonsai, sent when I moved to the city for college.
Behind the black bag: a box of nutrient ampoules and the bonsai pot.
I lifted the tiny potted plant—mystery sprout inside—and glared.
A bonsai I'd seen since early childhood.
Grandma wasn't obsessive about much, but this? Terrifyingly so.
She taught me bonsai care over studying.
"Never damage it, no matter what. Take it if you're going far."
She even made the soil and nutrients herself.
...Infuriating.
Owner starving three days straight, but this weed thrives on sun, water, photosynthesis—and gets fancy nutrients to boot?
A thought flashed.
Mud cookies.
Origin's tragic: famine victims cooking dirt to beat hunger.
"..."
Crazy idea, obviously. But once it popped up, curiosity chained.
Like pet owners tasting kibble out of wonder.
Especially with this delicious smell.
The nutrient ampoule I cracked for a test? Slightly sour, bitter scent.
...Just a taste?
"Urghhhheeeek!"
Splat.
How long had I clung to the toilet?
Nothing to vomit but stomach acid, yet the dry heaves wouldn't stop.
Tears and snot for bonus.
"Cough! Hack hack, heuk heuk."
About 30 minutes since my life's dumbest challenge, time-travel style.
My stomach started to ache faintly.
I ignored it at first, lying down.
Half-expected this...
Figured sleep it off, wake up, epic bathroom clear-out.
Flush the system, noon rise, crispy kombo chicken for recovery. My plan.
Total flop, as you see.
"Gaaahhh, oeeek."
Felt like someone wringing my guts.
Pain didn't stop at my belly—spread whole body.
Body like a fireball.
Fever dizziness? Or nausea oxygen-starved?
'Should've brought my phone!'
No strength to crawl to living room for 119 call.
Price for zero future-think, all impulse?
...No regrets, though.
No vast fortune left behind, and I'd gamed to my heart's content till minutes ago.
Plus, too lazy for the store, so I stole my houseplant's chow.
At this point, predestined end?
Darwin would've teared up, standing ovation.
100 points, perfect score...
Judges unanimous.
With those words piercing my long-held creed, I blacked out.
"I'll embrace... natural death..."
Gurk