Alright. So, I'm tired. Like, 'the-universe-hates-me' level of tired. After that whole gardening fiasco and Akari's catastrophic contributions, I'm lucky I made it out alive.
But hey, I finally got my paycheck from Mrs. Henderson. Not that it magically erased the physical and emotional trauma of the past week, but still, money is money. And more importantly, it means I don't have to listen to the smartphone mocking me about being broke.
"You did it, Shiwei," I mumble to myself, holding the precious envelope. "You survived. Barely..."
The plan is simple. Go home. Collapse. Sleep like a corpse. But as soon as I step inside my apartment, something happens.
It hits me. That smell. That glorious, mouth-watering, holy-smokes-what-is-that smell?! My stomach growls so loudly I swear the neighbors heard it. For a second, I think Mrs. Henderson has ascended to culinary godhood. But no. The divine scent isn't coming from her place.
I follow the aroma like a possessed man, my feet moving on their own. Left turn. The door next to my apartment. And before I know it—bam! I'm standing right in front of Akari's door.
Wait...
Hold up.
"No way," I mutter, glaring at the door like it personally offended me. "That walking disaster? Cooking? That smell? This has to be a trap. She probably burned her microwave, and I'm just hallucinating the aftermath."
But what if... what if it's real? My mouth is practically watering. I can't just walk away now.
"Screw it."
I knock. Not a normal knock. More like a 'the-fate-of-my-stomach-depends-on-this' knock. The door swings open, and there she is. Akari Saitou. The Goddess of Chaos. And apparently, the Goddess of Mouth-Watering Aromas too.
"Oh! Neighbor!" she chirps, because of course she's absurdly cheerful.
I squint. "Idiot girl, was that you?"
Her smile drops. "Excuse me?"
Okay. Maybe not the best opening line.
"I mean," I clear my throat, trying to regain some dignity. "Was that heavenly smell your doing?"
She tilts her head, then grins. "Oh! You mean the Gyudon? Yep! Just made some!"
Gyudon. The Majestic Gyudon... The food of the gods... My mouth betrays me, letting out an embarrassing swallow. But then I realize something even worse. I never even introduced myself to her. Smooth, Shiwei. Real smooth.
"Uh. By the way. Name's Shiwei," I say, forcing out a half-hearted smile. "Your neighbor. The one who has repeatedly saved your life."
She seems confused because of what I just said...
Right...
She doesn't know that I kept of slowing and accelerating time to save her... My uncredited heroism..
"Akari Saitou!" she beams. "Also your neighbor! The one who has helped you with Mrs. Henderson's garden!"
What the fuck is she talking about? All she did was run around and cause even more chaos.
Before I can respond, she catches me. Her eyes narrow slightly, like a detective spotting a suspect. "Have you eaten?"
Damn it.
"Well, I—"
"Come in!" she says, pulling me inside without another word.
Okay. Not gonna lie, I wasn't going to fight that. The food smells too good. Pride? Dignity? Who needs 'em? It can't feed you. I'm a grown man, and I'm about to grovel for Gyudon!
She gestures to the table. I practically teleport to it. "Make yourself comfortable! I'll get everything ready."
Comfortable? Lady, I'm in paradise. I watch as she hums away, placing a steaming bowl in front of me. My hands tremble with anticipation.
"This... this is heaven," I whisper. Then I lock eyes with Akari and add, "You must be the Goddess of Idiocy and Cooking!"
She stares at me, deadpan. "That was rude."
"But accurate."
"Fair."
I shove a spoonful into my mouth. My taste buds explode. The flavors, the tenderness, the perfect balance of seasoning. I swear I can hear a choir of angels singing in the background. Akari is watching me like a proud puppy.
"So? How is it?"
"This is... this is illegal. No human should have this much cooking talent!" I point at her. "You are a culinary outlaw!"
"Hehe! I'm glad you like it!"
Like it? I'm on the verge of tears! And because I have no shame, I devour the entire bowl within minutes. My soul leaves my body and comes back again.
"Got any more?" I ask, completely devoid of self-respect.
"Of course!" she beams, practically skipping to the kitchen.
And that's how I spent my evening — stuffing my face, moaning about how life-changing Akari's Gyudon is, and temporarily forgetting that I'm the most unfortunate man alive.
For once, the universe might have actually given me a break. But I'm not holding my breath.
"Smartphone," I whisper at it, glaring at the cursed device. "Don't you dare ruin this for me."
It buzzes ominously.
Figures...
But forget about it, I'm still not done with this Gyudon just yet so I continue on munching the divine food infront of me like a feral beast, and shamelessly asks for another bowl.
And now. First thing's first – I have no regrets. None.
After feasting like a king on Akari's divine Gyudon tonight, I did what any respectable man would do. I shamelessly declared that I would return for more offerings. And why wouldn't I? Consider it a tax. A divine payment to the unspoken hero who's been saving her life on a regular basis. No big deal.
"Thank you, oh Goddess of Chaos and Cooking," I mumbled to myself, basking in the afterglow of culinary bliss. "May your kitchen never run out of rice." I said and went back to my apartment with the cursed smartphone still deviously-must be plotting something-sitting on my pockets and get a good nights rest.
And now? It's morning again...
Unfortunately...
My eyes crack open, greeted by the unholy sound of my phone's alarm. That damn thing. I glare at it like it's personally responsible for my misery. Honestly, it probably is.
"Monday," I groan, the weight of impending doom settling on my chest. Another five days of endless suffering. Endless talking to customers I don't care about, dealing with the sticky glares of people I don't know, and, worst of all, surviving the unsolicited attention from my female coworkers. Their eyes burn holes through me like I'm some mythical creature. Which, to be fair, I kind of am. But still.
Then, there's Akari.
That girl is a walking disaster, and now that she's my neighbor, my unpaid, full-time guardian angel duties have leveled up. Great. Just what I needed. More responsibilities without any actual pay.
After dragging myself out of bed, I freshen up, throwing on my uniform. Deodorant? Check. Cologne? Check. Hopefully, it's enough to mask the stench of existential dread. I glance in the mirror, giving myself one last once-over.
"You're doing great, buddy," I lie to my reflection. "Or so I say..."
With a resigned sigh, I step out of my apartment and... freeze.
What in the name of all things unholy is that?
There, in front of my eyes, Akari stands proudly atop a deathly metal beast. Only it's small, has two wheels, and she's balancing on it like she's summoning the powers of the underworld. The machine looks like it's plotting my demise. And the most horrifying part? She's smiling. Like she trusts it. Unbelievable.
"Shiwei! Morning!" Akari waves cheerfully, her feet resting on the pedals of the monstrosity.
I narrow my eyes, cautiously approaching the creature. "What... what is that abomination?"
She tilts her head. "Huh? It's a bicycle!"
"A what-now?"
"Bicycle," she repeats, patting the handlebars as if it's some innocent pet instead of a mechanical demon. "It's how I get around."
"You willingly ride that thing?" My voice is drenched in disbelief. "It has no engine. No protection. Just two flimsy wheels and a seat designed to betray your dignity."
Akari giggles. "That's what makes it fun!"
Oh, she's gone completely mad. Figures.
But as I observe the metal beast, I can't help but notice something. It's... kind of practical. Faster than walking. Easier than running. And best of all, no barking, no leaking hoses, and no suspicious smartphone antics. Maybe... just maybe... it's not a bad idea.
"Hmph." I cross my arms, pretending not to be impressed. "Seems... tolerable."
Akari beams like she just converted me to some cult. "Wanna try it?"
"I'm good," I reply swiftly, though part of me is curious. Curious enough to... maybe... get one for myself.
"Well," I mutter to myself as Akari wobbles off, nearly colliding with a lamp post before correcting her path. "That metal beast seems convenient. Unlike the dog. The hose. And especially the smartphone."
My eyes gleam with resolve. That's right. I must have it. I'll tame one of these mechanical beasts. I'll ride it to work, feeling the wind in my hair like some majestic... uh... bicycle warrior.
"But first," I declare dramatically, pointing to the sky, "I need money."
And thus, a new goal has been born. Forget saving for luxuries. The true prize awaits. The mighty bicycle shall be mine!
The smartphone vibrates in my pocket, probably mocking me.
"Shut up," I grumble. "You're just jealous."
Let the quest begin!
***
And now, I'm striding towards the place where I can get my money. I'm feeling unstoppable. The paycheck was alright, but I need more. Lots more. And I know exactly how I'm going to get it.
The plan? Simple. Walk into Fried Chicken Heaven like I own the place, march straight to the manager, and demand my rightful path to wealth. Foolproof.
The automatic doors slide open as I step inside, radiating the aura of a man on a mission. My uniform is crisp, my hair tied back in a perfect messy bun that screams sophistication and chaos. The aroma of fried chicken welcomes me like an old friend. Patrons munch away happily, but I? I'm here to do business.
The manager, Mr. Mustache, is leaning against the staff room door, sipping his third cup of coffee like it's his lifeline. His eyes are half-dead, like someone who's survived one too many chicken-related emergencies.
Perfect.
"Manager!" I bark dramatically, causing him to choke on his drink.
"Shiwei," he wheezes. "What now? Did you burn another batch of fries?"
I ignore his baseless accusations. "No. I need money. Lots of it."
He blinks. The fluorescent lights flicker. Somewhere, a chicken-themed jingle echoes from the radio. "We all do, genius. But why?"
I slam my hands on the table for dramatic effect. "I must acquire the magnificent, not-so-intimidating, and frankly quite friendly metal beast."
Mr. Mustache stares at me like I just declared I was the Emperor of Fried Chicken. "...You need what?"
I wave my hand dramatically, as though painting a masterpiece in the air. "The creature with two wheels. Strong. Graceful. Its chain gleaming under the sun... It moves with the elegance of a thousand swans."
He's still staring. Someone coughs awkwardly in the background.
"A bicycle, Mr. Mustache. I need a bicycle!"
"...Right. A bike."
"A beast of freedom," I add for emphasis.
Mr. Mustache pinches the bridge of his nose. "Shiwei, why do you always talk like you're narrating a dramatic fantasy novel?"
"I'm simply a man of flair."
"You're a man of nonsense."
Touché.
But the cunning gleam in his eyes tells me he's not done. Mr. Mustache may not look it, but he's just as much of a schemer as my cursed smartphone. He strokes his mustache, a sure sign that something diabolical is brewing in that corporate brain of his.
"I can give you money, Shiwei," he says with a sly grin. "But on one condition."
"Anything," I declare boldly, possibly sealing my own fate.
"We're nearing the end of the month. Headquarters wants us to boost our sales. If we do well enough, our branch could be ranked in the top five." He leans closer, like the devil whispering a deal. "So, you're going to help us with marketing."
Marketing. The word echoes through my brain like a death sentence.
"Promote Fried Chicken Heaven?" I repeat slowly.
"Exactly."
"And if I succeed?"
He grins. "I'll give you a bonus. Enough to buy your precious metal beast."
It's like the gods themselves are smiling upon me. Victory is within reach. I stand tall, practically glowing with newfound confidence.
"Deal."
"God help us all," Mr. Mustache mutters.
And so, the challenge begins.
Today, the world will witness the marketing genius of Shiwei!
Or, you know, something like that...