READ NOVEL ONLINE After cleansing the gallery on my corrupted smartphone, I turn to the shopping app.
First, I need wet wipes for the field trip and two suitable lunchboxes.
Oh, and a roll of toilet paper that has been completely used up at home.
I’ve almost used up the body wash, and the shampoo too…
‘Wait, I was looking for picnic supplies, wasn’t I?’
My fingers, moving in a trance, suddenly stop as a thought strikes me, and I press on the shopping cart to examine the items.
Just from touching a few things necessary for life, the total amount has already hit six digits.
Although I was shocked at the price on the tag for how much I supposedly added, these are still essential items for survival in this world.
Once I’ve double-checked the items needed for the picnic, I hit the order complete button.
The notification from my smartphone blares, announcing that around 100,000 won has quickly disappeared from my account.
“Mari, what did you order?”
At the sound of the notification, Siyeon peeks her head over the bunk bed’s ladder, asking what I’ve ordered.
Now that I think about it, I haven’t ordered dinner yet.
Shaking my head while lying down, I answer towards the stairs.
“Not yet, why? Do you want something to eat?”
“Shrimp tempura!”
Seems like Siyeon really wants that shrimp tempura.
Thinking about how shrimp tempura is pretty universally liked, I search for it in the delivery app’s search bar.
The results that pop up are mostly from pork cutlet restaurants.
“Shrimp tempura, shrimp tempura….”
Since I’ll be using the frying pan anyway, it looks like they have a variety of fritters too.
There are quite a few pork cutlet places, but I scroll through to find one that also sells squid fritters.
Though it’s labeled as squid cutlet, it’s actually squid rings.
I mean, I don’t mind that, so I deftly order a pork cutlet meal that includes rice, as well as the shrimp tempura and squid rings.
The notification sound from my smartphone feels particularly annoying today.
“Ugh.”
It’s just enough food for two elementary school kids, gives or takes one and a half servings.
Even ordering just this amounts to nearly 25,000 won, leaving me with only a sigh of wonder.
By the time they’re in middle or high school, I can easily imagine the bill reaching 50,000 won for the two of them.
Far more sinister than any evil monster, this rising cost of living is much more wicked and terrifying.
Thud, I hear the sound of a bag being dropped at the door.
The ringing doorbell signals that the food has arrived.
“It’s here!”
With short strides, Siyeon runs out to the door.
I follow her down the ladder and head toward the front door.
Click, as the door opens, the food is left sitting there, and the delivery person has already vanished into the wind.
Back in the day, delivery people used to hand the food over at the door, but nowadays it seems they’re too busy to stick around.
What a hard world it is.
At this age, that plastic bag feels heftier than it looks, and we struggle to carry it over to the low dining table.
If only I could cheaply live by abusing my magical girl powers, but considering the ‘what-ifs,’ I tend to restrain myself in everyday life.
With small hands meticulously untangling the tightly tied plastic bag, it’s nice to be good at such small, fine tasks.
Tick, my hand slips from the knot that is tied round.
‘It’s nice to be small…’
As I hear the crinkling sound, I focus back on the knot.
Tick.
Again, my fingernail slips past the tightly bound knot without success.
‘Good…’
With the flexibility of my small hands and delicate work, I thought surely I’d undo the knot…
Tick.
But I couldn’t.
‘Good, damn…’
I silently curse as my nail slips away again from the very end of the knot.
No matter the reason of protecting the food, being frustrated is still being frustrated.
Humans are tool-using creatures, so I head to the kitchen, grab scissors, and cut off the knotted part.
I should have done this earlier; I wasted my energy for nothing.
Slowly, I pull out the food, placing the main pork cutlet lunchbox in the center of the table.
I slide over the shrimp tempura that Siyeon wanted, and likewise, I bring the squid rings over to myself.
“What’s that?”
Siyeon asks, pointing at the round-shaped fritter with a fork.
Since she’s still quite clumsy with chopsticks, she’s using a fork for now.
Of course, she can’t use a fork forever, so I’ve been buying her practice chopsticks for kids too.
“That’s squid fritters; you said we were going to eat squid but wanted shrimp.”
Immediately after answering her question, I recall the thoughts of the squid monster, and her eyes light up.
“Oh… I want just one!”
Siyeon immediately targets my squid fritters.
I’m not one to let go that easily.
If I say no outright, it’ll only spur her rebellious side, so I start to negotiate.
“I’ll trade you for a shrimp.”
“Ah.”
From her short response, it seems negotiations have failed.
It’s clear to me that one squid ring isn’t equal to a shrimp tempura.
“Then, how about two squids for one shrimp.”
We renegotiate to two squid rings and one shrimp tempura.
“Okay… sure!”
Siyeon nods her head, indicating our deal succeeded.
The disposable plastic lunchbox is filled to the brim with pork cutlet and rice.
And equally split between us are the squid rings and shrimp tempura.
In that case, wouldn’t it have been better to share it from the start?
“Thank you for the meal-”
“Phew, I’m full.”
The disposable lunch containers are oddly clean, completely emptied.
After wiping the oil left on the plates at the kitchen sink, I gather the small containers to throw away at the weekend.
Recycling is annoying, but it’s unavoidable.
Feeling gratitude that the day passes quietly without a single alarm, I find myself soon pondering a new worry.
“Now, how should I prepare the lunchbox for the picnic day…?”
Indeed.
Thoughts about the lunchbox for the picnic day arise.
Whether I want it or not, a sense of comparison begins between the kids.
It doesn’t need to be a masterpiece, but I must at least manage a decent one.
“Picnic, lunchbox…”
As a regular person without any artistic talent, the usual route is to look for videos or images.
It’s simply impossible to make a character with a colorful face in a lunchbox.
To make it somewhat presentable, I decide on a full dish of fried rice with octopus-shaped sausage.
And quail egg side dish with a few pieces of fruit for dessert.
…Assuming characters don’t need to be made in the lunchbox, this is the best I can do.
Suddenly, I realize I’ll need to buy more from the store.
Instant rice and canned ham for fried rice use, along with eggs.
Refrigerated quail egg side dish and sausages for sides.
Lastly, I’m thinking about putting in grape tomatoes and shine muscats for dessert?
‘…That’s more than I thought.’
Considering that the experiential learning… or picnic is on Monday, time is tighter than I expected.
Even if it means making two trips to the store this weekend alone, I have to get everything.
I could also order online, but with the delivery time being unpredictable, it could turn into a hassle if there’s a delay.
It’s better to guarantee what I can, even if it means a little struggle.
With these thoughts in mind, Friday night settles in.
While lying on the bed and fiddling with my smartphone.
‘What is that sound…?’
The sound of plastic clashing against plastic fills the empty space.
The metallic clinking of cans bumping against one another.
The sharp sound of glass bottles clashing against each other, ready to shatter at any moment.
It’s time to recycle.
Last weekend I completely forgot and left the trash in the house, so I absolutely must go out this time.
‘Ugh, so annoying…’
When trash starts piling up, I can’t throw it all away at once.
Even if it means several trips, I must consistently take out the trash.
Plastic waste can be lightweight leftovers from something eaten, so it doesn’t bother me, but the problem lies with regular trash and recycling.
Not only does it take up significant space, but with my body, even if I pile up the empty plastic into the recycling bin, it still becomes quite a hassle.
“Ugh.”
With a short sigh, I step out to the fetid-smelling apartment complex’s dumpster, and place the recycling bin for plastic.
After properly tossing in the fabric softener or shampoo bottle I can barely grip with my small hands.
Holding ordinary trash, I walk up to the regular trash area, where I notice a stuffed bear with its neck torn off.
“……”
Looking at the mouth of the trash bag I’m holding in both hands, I use a bit of rotation and toss it right over the stuffed bear.
“Gweck!”
A bizarre sound like a human scream echoes out, drawing the focus of others throwing away trash.
But since the owner of that voice isn’t visible, people assume they must have misheard and resume discarding their own rubbish.
After tidying up the trash in my house, I return and wash my hands with soap.
Lying on the round wool carpet in the living room while browsing my smartphone, I slowly begin to feel an inexplicable drowsiness wash over me.
“Yawn…”
Whether the stuffed bear comes back or not.
After finishing my day, I let out a yawn as my tired body makes its way up the stairs, turning off the lights.
Thud thud thud, I glance up at the familiar noise coming from the ceiling.
Thud thud thud, just to be cautious, I climb onto the bed and press my ear against the ceiling, but that unpleasant vibration doesn’t resonate.
‘It’s not coming from the ceiling?’
As I take a closer look for the source of the noise, I find it’s coming from the glass of the balcony window.
When I pull back the curtain, the stuffed bear is knocking against the balcony window with a dazed look.
Right away, I slip on my fuzzy slippers, flick the latch down to unlock the balcony door, and swing it open.
Then, I quickly stamp my foot down to prevent it from entering.
“Cough!”
“Stay soaked in soapy water in the bathroom for three hours before coming to the living room.”
“Yessir.”
With a polite response, the Gomteng takes to the air, sneaking through the open crack of the bathroom door.
Where it had just passed, the stench from the trash piled up in the dumpster lingered heavily.
Wait, that smell isn’t just it.
It’s that scent I miss that I never wanted to smell at home.
Feeling skeptical, I swing open the window as I change into the shoes placed on the balcony and hurry my steps.
A scent that has undeniably become more intense—nicotine.
Dreading the thought, I lean on the railing and step up onto the platform, where I can see smoke rising from downstairs.
‘Ugh, damn it.’
My neighbors really are a source of despair.
Though it’s quiet for now, there’s the cat mom upstairs plus the noise-making neighbor.
And downstairs, is there another hassle person smoking on the balcony?
Swaying under these crushing feelings, I quickly shut the balcony door and step back inside.
I pick up a strawberry-flavored lollipop from the aluminum container next to my computer.
Sitting down on the stairs outside the apartment, I activate just a portion of my magical girl powers to raise my fist, targeting the tip of the lollipop.
As warmth begins to rise on the tips of my fingers, the delightful scent of melting plastic tickles my nose.
I could not resist igniting the tip of the sweet lollipop.
Humans, I can’t stand them.