"Am I being messed with or what?!"
Vincent let out a hollow laugh, tapping his head. Maybe the electrocution had really fried his brain. A lot of things could go wrong from trying to die by shocking yourself to death.
'But hallucinations? Seriously?'
He scoffed and pushed himself to his feet, making his way toward the kitchen.
There should still be a little rice left from what he cooked yesterday morning. Hopefully, it hadn't spoiled. He'd just boil it, eat, call his homeroom teacher to excuse himself from school, and spend the day resting.
Tomorrow, the cycle of bullying resumes.
Vincent grabbed the rice boiler, plugged it in, and switched the socket on.
A sudden shiver ran down his spine.
His fingers hovered over the switch for a moment, then he shook his head vigorously.
"I can't believe I actually thought of killing myself."
Or rather… that he actually did.
Was it cowardice or bravery?
If he had the guts to challenge death itself, why couldn't he challenge life instead?
There were still two and a half years left before he graduated from Mureung High. Could he really endure it that long?
No… if anything, the chain of suffering would only continue.
Even if the seniors graduated, they'd just pass their cruelty down to the younger ones. Then he'd graduate as that pathetic guy who was always bullied.
And even if—by some miracle—he got into a university where none of them attended, there would be other bullies.
The cycle would never end.
Unless… he ended it.
A bitter chuckle left his lips as he poured boiling water over a pack of ramen.
A few minutes later, he mixed the softened noodles with rice, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and walked out of the kitchen.
For the first time in forever, he enjoyed a meal.
A simple, weird combination—rice and ramen—but it tasted good.
He sighed in satisfaction, leaning back on his bed, rubbing his full stomach.
"Take that, you piece of crap hallucination telling me nonsense."
Thinking about the entire thing just made him laugh again.
"Really though… what was that?" he mumbled.
Silence followed. A comfortable, peaceful silence.
His vision blurred. Sleep weighed on his eyelids, his limbs growing sluggish.
Slipping into unconsciousness, Vincent muttered one last thought:
"I'll wash the dishes when I wake up..."
Then—he zoned out.
---
Three hours later… It happened.
[DANGER! DANGER!! DANGER!!!]
[You have failed the quest.]
[You have entered a critical hunger state.]
[You will die if you do not consume a delicious meal within the next 15 minutes.]
Vincent was ripped awake—but not by sound.
By pain.
A vicious, gnawing agony dug into his stomach, clawing at his insides like a beast desperate to tear free.
It felt like something alive was trapped inside him, thrashing and biting with razor-sharp teeth, sinking deeper and deeper into his gut.
His organs twisted, wrung out like a soaked rag.
His vision paled with confusion and frustration.
Vincent doubled over, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection as if that could somehow subdue the agonized howls roaring from within him.
But there was no escape.
The hunger was relentless, screaming to be satisfied.
It felt as if flaming hands were squeezing his intestines, twisting and crushing them until they were on the verge of rupturing.
Then—he saw it.
The floating panel.
Bright. Red.
A countdown.
[You have 00:13:07 until you die of hunger.]
His breath hitched.
'What?! Die of hunger?!'
He wanted to scream the words, but the pain was too much.
This wasn't a hallucination.
It was real.
The floating panel, the quest—it was all real.
But why?
What the hell was happening to him?!
'I ate… I ate rice and ramen… I was full…'
His thoughts crumbled under another wave of pain.
[DANGER ALERT!!!]
[Spend a fortune on food before the time elapses, or you will die from hunger.]
"CRUEL!" Vincent screamed.
There was no other word for this. It was pure wickedness.
He lived on a budget. His spending was calculated to the last penny. Wasting money on expensive food was the height of carelessness.
But—
[The time has been reduced by 5 minutes.]
[You now have 00:09:59 until you die of hunger.]
His eyes widened.
This thing was serious.
He scrambled to his feet so violently that he nearly collapsed again.
His hands searched frantically—his phone. Where was his phone?!
There—his backpack.
How did it even get home with him?
No time to think about that.
The chicken delivery.
If he had to spend a fortune, then so be it.
With shaking hands, he dialed the number.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
Each second was a nail in his coffin.
Just as his anger reached its peak—
"Hello, this is–"
Vincent cut in before the guy could finish.
"I want ten servings of fried chicken! Right now! 123-456245 Maple Street, Brookside Building, Floor Three, Room Five!!"
A pause.
Then—
"Ten servings? That'll be 157 dollars. Transfer or pay on delivery?"
"Pay on delivery! GET HERE IN FIVE MINUTES OR I'M GOING TO DIE!"
He screamed the last words and collapsed onto his back.
His vision spun.
His room danced.
His body trembled.
He was dizzy, nauseous, his hunger a living thing, devouring him from the inside out.
How long had it been since he called?
He couldn't tell.
His limbs felt like lead.
He managed to slip a hand into his backpack, fingers brushing against a book. He flipped it open, revealing two crisp 200-dollar bills tucked between the pages.
Vincent clenched the money tightly in his hands.
Waiting.
For the delivery guy.
Or for death.
Whichever came first.
[You have 00:04:58 until you die of hunger.]
Vincent rolled back and forth, his stomach twisting itself into furious knots.
"Where the hell is the damn delivery guy?!"
His gaze flicked to the clock.
Each second ticked away.
[You have less than 3 minutes until you die of hunger.]
The red letters glowed.
Shimmering.
Blazing.
"Damn it—I'll just kill the delivery guy! Or kill this damned illusion! I'll just kill everyone—!!"
His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists.
His rage burned.
But then—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
His body moved before his mind.
He sprinted to the door.
Threw it open.
Roughly grabbed the bags of chicken from the delivery person—
Didn't care who it was.
Just shoved the money into their hands—
And slammed the door shut.
The delivery girl blinked, looking at the notes in her hand.
A slow smile curled on her lips.
"I earned my first tip."
Then—
Vincent ripped open the bag.
And devoured.
Every. Last. Piece.
---
[Congratulations.]
[You have unlocked a Supreme Attribute: GLUTTONY.]