My Heart Quit, but My Body Didn't

"Everyone, I made it! Eating pie bumped my HP up by twenty."

Ka-ching!

"VeteranHunter, DragonPark, Puffy — thank you so, so much for the donations!"

I slapped the pie crumbs off my hands against my skirt.

"While I'm on the run anyway, maybe I should start a pie business?"

"Nope. Money I make selling things at the general store is Chronos Labs money. Money I earn out here is mine."

"If they tell me to pay taxes, I'll think about it then."

Eating pie had raised my HP, sure — but I was still sitting at a measly thirty-eight. A long way from a full bar.

"Maybe I'll make another one."

"If I don't eat, I'm going to die… Don't you people eat to stay alive too?"

"Hmm. The next menu, huh…"

Now that I thought about it, I'd been eating nothing but sweet. Salt was starting to sound really good. Protein, too.

"I'll take menu suggestions. It's a pretty bare-bones kitchen, so I'll try anything that isn't impossible."

Chat exploded.

Spicy fish stew with hand-torn noodles.

I wanted it.

"Okay. Then tomorrow, shall we head down to the creek and do a little fishing?"

I had no idea, then, what was happening outside the game.

The creek was about a ten-minute walk.

Nureongi bounded ahead, leading the way.

I peered into the water. Palm-sized fish were drifting past in schools.

"Oh, nice. Plenty of fish, at least."

"First, let's make a fishing rod."

I snapped off a branch and tied a length of thread to it.

Another expert had entered the chat.

"Hello, Fishing Expert. The thing is, I don't have a hook."

No hook, no bait — so I mashed pie crumbs into a lump and hung it from the end of the thread.

Plunk.

The moment the crumbs hit the water, fish swarmed.

"Ooooh. I've got a bite. I've got a bite!"

That nibble-tug feeling. I yanked — and the empty thread came flying back up.

Honestly, it had probably just gotten soggy and fallen off.

"These fish are cunning. You people aren't down there chewing on my pie too, are you?"

I threw the rod away.

"Forget it. Sleeves up, legs in. I'm going in."

I kicked off my shoes and socks and knotted my skirt. The water came up to my calves, clear enough to see every pebble on the bottom.

"Everyone, I am currently engaged in survival activity so that I don't die. Close your eyes."

Catching fish barehanded was harder than I'd expected. In my last life, grabbing fish in a creek had been a matter of clapping both hands down over them. Now my hands were small, my arms were short, and — more than anything — I was slower than I'd been then.

"…Ah. Ah—! I got one!"

Twenty minutes, and finally, a single fish.

"Look, look! See this? I caught it!"

"Huh?"

I turned around. Five fish were flopping on the gravel bar.

Nureongi came wading out after me, spat a sixth fish onto the ground, and smacked it down with his mouth.

"……."

Credit where it's due. Nureongi was competent.

More competent than me.

"Nureongi!"

"Woof!"

"Good boy! You did so well! Nureongi's the best!"

I scrubbed his head with both hands. His tail spun up like a propeller.

"Everyone. That's just how office life works. You praise a capable subordinate."

Oh, come on. I wasn't even wrong.

Say something true as an NPC and they pile on you anyway.

I packed up the seven fish and started back. Along the forest path, a thicket hung heavy with bright red berries. They didn't look like strawberries — smooth-skinned, glossy, the kind of shine that screamed delicious at a glance.

"Oh. What's that?"

"I picked strawberries off the side of the road just fine."

I plucked one and popped it in my mouth.

Crunch.

"What even is this flavor?"

About a second later, I understood.

"HWAEEK!!!"

Spicy isn't a taste. It's pain.

My mouth caught fire.

A window popped up.

Fuck.

Would it have killed them to throw that information up before I ate it?

When I used to play this game, information windows came up if you so much as aimed your gaze at something. You didn't even have to eat it. Apparently NPCs didn't get that feature.

"An NPC-hating world, and I have to live in it as an NPC. I can't even be mad enough. This is injustice."

Tears and snot running, I downed several cups of water. A few minutes later, I started to feel human again.

"…Everyone. I think I just found an incredible ingredient."

In the end, it hadn't been a bad experiment. It was as hot as a bird's-eye chili, but with a little tartness and a spice-rack perfume underneath. A one-berry stand-in for chili, lime, and pepper all at once. Drop it in a broth and the whole pot would come out clean and sharp.

I had the keystone ingredient for spicy fish stew.

"Today's stew. I'm actually excited."

"The important part is I ate it and I didn't die. You just have to watch the amount."

They weren't wrong, so I didn't have much of a comeback.

Back at the cave, I laid the fish out. I needed to scale them and cut them up with a flat stone I'd grabbed at the creek, and the second the slippery skin touched my fingers, my shoulders hunched on their own.

"Oh — thank you, Expert."

Salt on the hands helped with the slime. The experts in this chat were sneakily useful, I had to admit.

I scaled them, gutted them, pulled the gills. A few quick scores with the knife. The flesh was springy and tight. Broth this good was going to come out of these, I could already tell.

"Alright. Let's get this boiling."

Ah. Did I… have a pot?

"……."

What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had I packed when I walked out of the general store? Flour, salt, butter, seeds, a pickaxe, a collapsible water bottle, a cutlery set, and so on.

I had definitely not packed a pot. It wouldn't have fit in the pack.

"Can't be helped. We'll just grill them today."

"It's not stone-slab grilling."

"Yes, something like that."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I'd never actually done this either. I grabbed a handful of salt, dusted it over the fish, skewered each piece on a stick, and planted the sticks close to the fire on the cooking hearth.

Caveman-style grilling, as they say. Apparently this was how actual prehistoric people cooked fish. I planted the sticks the way I half-remembered from a fish I'd once watched roasting at an irori-yaki place. It took time, that was the downside — but the flavor was supposed to be ridiculous. And these weren't whole fish; they were already cut, so they'd probably cook faster besides.

What to do while they roasted?

I stuck the last skewer and stood up — and chat suddenly started scrolling like a waterfall.

"Huh? Who's showing up?"

I lifted my head. Someone was walking down the mountain toward the cave. Gear glittering even from here. Nobody wandered a starter-village field wearing that. Whale-tier cash shop, at a glance.

And then, in that instant, my body folded itself at the waist to a perfect ninety degrees.

No — why was this body doing that again?

I quit, remember?

"…I think my heart already quit, but my body hasn't caught up."

The face coming closer was familiar.

"Wait. That's…!?"

Up close, there was no mistaking her.

Yuna of YunaTV — seventy thousand subscribers on AkaTV. I'd heard her YouTube channel had recently hit ten times that, seven hundred thousand. She'd come up through mukbang and now treated six-figure views on most of her content as a casual Tuesday. Back when I was Archmage Hyuk, peaking at forty concurrent viewers and wiping my eyes before bed, I used to put her on sometimes.

And that entire corporation of a streamer was currently cutting across my field, walking toward the mouth of my cave.

"Whoa…!"

Yuna's mouth fell open. She stared at me, stunned.

"It's real… She was actually here?"

Then she shouted at the recording rig floating in the air in front of her.