Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Aglio e Olio and a Purple Surprise
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Several hours of nonstop gaming had left me starving.
I'd spent the whole day glued to my chair, barely eating anything worthwhile.
Sure, I hadn't burned many calories sitting still like that, but the human body guzzles energy just breathing and keeping the basics running.
A familiar voice flashed through my mind.
"Young folks shouldn't starve." It was that old Italian guy's go-to line.
"Dinner? Not feeling it, so I'll skip."
"Merda!! Young men shouldn't starve. Especially not ones like you."
"...Hang on. So old guys can?"
"I've only got half a body left, so half the calories do me fine. Not you."
Damn that Talulla nonsense—I couldn't even argue back.
Potbelly Uncle was loaded with talents. Retired engineer, but his cooking skills were pro-level. I'd never eaten his food firsthand, but the photos screamed expertise.
He'd brag, "This is basic for a Neapolitan man," but I bet even Naples didn't have many like him. Talents like that don't grow on trees.
Thanks to him, my own cooking leveled up.
Before we met, I only knew ramen and fried rice. Now? I could call it a hobby.
I rubbed my flat stomach and headed to the kitchen. Surprisingly addictive feeling.
Young bodies rock. The lingering fatigue from this morning? Gone.
Maybe from ramping up my focus—my head felt clearer, and my grumbling gut was demanding fuel.
Time to cook!!
...Or so I declared, storming into the kitchen. But the menu was tricky.
Location was issue one.
One-room corner crammed with a mini-fridge, induction burner, microwave, and coffee pot. That was my full kitchen setup.
Cabinets had pots and bowls—bare minimum.
Pot too small for pasta. Pan awkwardly sized.
Ingredients? Same problem. I'd shopped once, but that wasn't enough.
Place was so bare-bones, one grocery run hit its limit fast.
Tomato pasta or chicken noodle soup came to mind—no canned tomatoes, carrots, or celery.
After poking around, I grabbed garlic.
"A bachelor's pasta is aglio e olio, classic."
Pulled garlic from the fridge and portioned it. Bought peeled in bulk—freeze half.
Ideally, use whole cloves peeled fresh for max flavor... Next market trip.
Ingredients sparse? No sweat. We've got modern science.
Grabbed pre-bought chicken stock from the fridge.
Overdo it and it gets old, but perfect for this.
First, garlic on the cutting board—lop off the root. Cute little board.
Even the kitchen knife was tiny and adorable.
Felt more like a fruit knife relative?
If I've got time, replace both, I thought, slicing the garlic thin.
Knife, board, hands—not my usuals. Needed a moment to adjust.
But muscle memory kicked in quick after a few fumbles.
Muscle memory: body remembers repeated actions.
My clumsy knife work suggested Kang Ji-min wasn't into cooking.
Who knows.
Was I not adapted yet? Or no muscle memory here?
Still, this body had good instincts.
Felt it gaming—commands slipped at first, then clicked fast.
Physical feel even sharper than before?
Dunno. Not fully synced yet.
Fry garlic in oil, add peperoncino, kill the heat.
Water boiling—dump in halved spaghetti.
Potbelly Uncle would've frothed at the mouth.
Whatever. Won't see him again.
...He learned Korean for this game, but never accepted half-cut pasta or iced Americano.
Used to troll him with Americano and pineapple pizza as content. He'd flip, challenge everyone to 10-wins.
One lap around, and Americano became taboo.
Later, during the "thongthongthongthongthong" trend, he ran 10-wins again—but I won.
"Ah. Craving caffeine."
Americano thoughts? But no mix coffee even.
Buying daily? Pricey. Grinding beans? No grinder or dripper.
Longer I stay here, longer the shopping list.
Keep adding, and it'll paralyze me into buying nothing.
Next time, delivery mart?
Not sure on GX or Xplay, but big X-Mart maybe did delivery back then... or not...
Memory's unreliable. Can't search anymore.
-Beep beep. Beep beep.
Timer blared mid-thought.
Drain pasta... No colander?
Shopping list +1. Can't buy everything.
Home shopping? Desperate finances—scour Xpang for cheap chow, save cash.
Trade happiness for savings, though.
Smart hunt finds decent stuff.
Factory bread—700g loaf, 3k won... Stock freezer, pet food vibes. Bulk kg cheaper.
How to eat it all? Future me's problem.
Welfare? If chow tastes good, it's chow.
Where else you get food-shit-games stable?
Food-Shit-Odinson Ranch. Sounds legit.
"Haha. Think that'll fly?"
No chance anyway.
Full board plus Odinson? I'd ranch a year. But it'd wear thin.
Need to venture out. Bank too.
Crack internet banking, audit rent/loans, clear suspicions.
Add pasta water to stock, strain.
Stir gently off heat, wrist-flick mix.
Chop-chop sounds—plate and done.
Dumped straight in bowl. No plating for man's aglio e olio.
-"Damn. That much garlic? Call it aglio e aglio."
Grumpy voice echoed. Tasted great, though.
Clink-clink, dug in. Solid flavor.
Fried garlic oil rarely flops.
"..."
One issue.
Couldn't finish the plate.
Not newbie overboil or portion fail—I ate this weekly.
Eyeballed right amount.
Body differed.
Kang Ji-min's stomach smaller than expected.
Man's portion too big for woman?
Even adjusted, should've managed...
Maybe her appetite was tiny.
Forced it down, but forks slowed.
Then stopped.
Stuffed full. Aglio e olio's richness hit hard.
Half-cut strands awkward to twirl or scoop.
No wonder Uncle raged at halves but okayed full chops.
...Toss it? Nah, after all that thrift talk.
Grit teeth, fork up.
"Ugh. Bloated and pissed."
Took ages to finish.
Suppressed bed-dive urge, stayed seated.
Lie down now? Acid reflux bait. Young body might shrug it, but cherish the new hardware.
More gaming? Progress overdone today.
Quota smashed. Like freezer ice cream—planned week, gone in days. Shocking.
Self-control tonight. Hit the gallery instead.
What bait? VTubers.
Her video, specifically.
Thumbnail chatter galore.
Curious—clicked. Purple-skinned avatar with broken straight sword.
...That's me?