Became a Failed Experimental Subject-Chapter 38: Still Hungry

Buildings in the Monster Era were designed with destruction in mind—they were made of prefabricated structures, easy to rebuild.

Still, certain high-rises and interior pillars required concrete and steel reinforcement.

And the job of carrying cement up the stairs for that... was called gombang.

“W-Wow, Mr. Moo-han, you’re a beast...? Faster than the construction drones?”

I had come to the site for day labor, but after drilling a few holes into steel plates while trying to weld something, I was told to quit welding and just carry cement.

Delicate work like welding didn’t suit me, but gombang? That was my calling.

I carried cement just like they told me—whish, whish—and still had time to spare. The foreman even said if I was free, he could introduce me to a nearby site and asked if I’d be willing to work there too.

“Is... is this guy even human? How much does that bag weigh?”

“Is he an Esper or something?”

“Shit, maybe he really is—how the hell does a person lift a whole ton by himself like that?”

“Why the hell would an Esper show up to do gombang...?”

After carrying cement at three different sites, I heard the phrase yarikiri! and left the construction zone.

Yarikiri—it means you’re done for the day once your task is complete, regardless of the time. A truly beautiful culture.

“Mr. Moo-han! Let’s work together again sometime!”

“You said your name was Lee Moo-han, right? Come back! Be sure to call!”

The moment I got paid, I headed straight for a place even more beautiful than yarikiri.

There are so many beautiful words in the world.

Heaping rice, extra large, super size, bulk, buy one get one... But there is one word that surpasses them all.

The glorious, radiant all-you-can-eat.

“Excuse me, sir... Meal time’s over.”

“Hm?”

It happened just as I brought back my 30th plate at a nearby pork all-you-can-eat place near the site.

The man who seemed to be the owner approached and tried to snatch the mountain of meat off my plate and put it back into the fridge.

“It’s only been an hour.”

“Y-Yes, but... Sir, your meal is... over.”

“Why? The sign said meal time is two hours.”

“Y-Yes, but... I mean... who eats a plate every four minutes?! And piles on almost a kilo each time?!”

“It’s delicious.”

“Y-Yes! Thank you for enjoying it! Really, thank you! But please enjoy no more than this! You’ve eaten so much already!”

“I don’t get it... Is it wrong to eat a lot? The sign said all-you-can-eat...”

“My wallet isn’t infinite, sir. Please...”

Strange. I could’ve sworn it said all-you-can-eat, and yet... not infinite?

Unjustly kicked out of an all-you-can-eat restaurant, I visited another one.

“Please, please stop eating. We’ll refund you.”

“Sir, sir, please... you can’t do this...”

“Hey! Get the fuck out, right now! Don’t come back! Please, just go away!”

From the day I got kicked out of my fourth all-you-can-eat spot, every buffet around the site started posting my picture.

Just like the villain wanted posters near the police stations.

On that paper were the words: STRICTLY BANNED FROM ENTRY.

That was the day I decided to change my name from Lee Moo-han to Lee Yoo-han.

The word all-you-can-eat—that beautiful phrase—turned out to be a lie to deceive the innocent.

“So that’s why you want us to call you Yoo-han now? Man, you’re something else.”

“It’s such a tragic tale... For all-you-can-eat to not be all-you-can-eat...”

“Yeah, yeah, very very sad story, sheesh...”

“So that’s why your face was posted at those restaurants? Why didn’t you just eat less?”

“I did eat moderately.”

“Getting kicked out is moderate? What happens if you eat until you’re full—someone dies?”

“Damn, is that why you’re so strong and tall? You eat like a beast.”

“Maybe it’s just 'cause he’s an Esper... Actually, maybe eating a lot makes it easier to awaken powers? Who knows, I didn’t learn shit.”

While hauling cement at the site, I told the workers the heartbreaking truth that all-you-can-eat restaurants didn’t actually exist in this world.

They chuckled and snickered, laughing at my tragedy.

One of them said that tragedy, from far away, is comedy... Maybe that’s true.

“Well hey, if you like eating that much, why not check out Black Bear Park over in Zone 4?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been there too.”

“Black Bear Park?”

As I wondered what was there, the workers all started chiming in about it.

“Every weekend at lunch, there’s a free food kitchen there. Out of all the soup kitchens in W-City, they serve the biggest portions. And hey—it’s the weekend today, right? You’re doing yarikiri again, aren’t you, Moo-han?”

“Big portions, and tasty too. Nobody complains even if you get seconds. They’ve got good hearts there. There’s this one lady with a scary-good memory, so if you go too many times she might stare at you a bit...”

“Guys like us, we live on food. Spending the money we earn on meals sucks. So if we’re in Zone 4, we usually eat at Black Bear Park.”

“Free... food kitchen...!”

Impossible. Could such a thing actually exist in the real world?

Shocked by the combination of words I never imagined could go together, I dropped the cement in my hands.

Heaping rice, extra large, filling, all-you-can-eat—they’d all reigned supreme in my heart.

But now, standing above them all like a sovereign, was the word free meal.

And if you could go back again and again for more... if free combined with unlimited... that wasn’t just a sovereign. That was a god.

“Moo-han really does love food, huh.”

“His body can’t run on normal meals, that’s for sure.”

“But really, you think they won’t say anything if he goes back for more?”

“Heard someone went seven times, and that lady just stared quietly. I bet ten’s the limit.”

“Huh. Now I’m curious what the cap is.”

I’ll find that cap.

Already full of plans to visit Black Bear Park, I swallowed the saliva building in my mouth and hauled another load of cement.

With that, my job at the building site was done. I double-checked the cash the foreman gave me and tucked it safely into my pocket.

“Moo-han, let’s work together again sometime, yeah? Gimme your number.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Huh? Who the hell doesn’t have a phone these days? If you’re rejecting me, at least make up a better excuse.”

“I really don’t have one.”

“What...? I thought you were turning people down out of loyalty to your other crews.”

“They didn’t have work-life balance.”

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“You’re the first guy I’ve seen talk about work-life balance while carrying cement, I swear...”

I will never work under construction villains who don’t even provide meals.

Work and Rice Balance. After work, there must be time to eat. Work must be paired with meals.

I don’t know who came up with that concept, but it’s damn brilliant.

“Well then.”

“Yeah! Take care, let’s meet again on site!”

“Bye, Mr. Moo-han!”

“Thanks! My back’s never felt so light!”

That was the end of this site too. Time to part ways with these guys.

Having finished early thanks to yarikiri, I left the site, and the workers who’d dumped the heaviest and riskiest tasks on me waved with bittersweet faces.

But only for a moment. The mixers started up again—VRRRMMM—as they went back to hauling cement.

I turned and headed for Zone 4.

The day my name becomes Free isn’t far off.

Zone 4, where the slums of W-City cluster together.

Word was, Zone 4 was considered the slum district even in cities like A-City and B-City.

In the Monster Era, the number 4 was seen as cursed, so Zone 4 was shunned. Government-backed buildings stood alongside countless illegal prefab shacks thrown together by unauthorized residents.

This was where people who couldn’t afford to care about unlucky names ended up.

The makeshift buildings weren’t made of prefab walls, but thin plates—so frail a human could probably knock them over. Broken patches in the asphalt showed this area was at the bottom of W-City’s priority list.

Even so, Zone 4 was called a “poor district,” not a “slum” like Zone 9—and that difference was huge.

“Aha-ha-ha! I’m Blaccky!”

“Then I’m Starlight!”

“I wanna be Blaccky too!”

Children wearing black clothes—dark enough to hide dirt—ran through the crumbling streets, playing tag under the name “Blaccky Game.”

The passersby, each holding a bag of food, smiled as they walked past.

“Kids! Don’t fall while you’re running!”

“Okaaaay~!”

Worn down, but not filthy.

Oddly enough, the safety here wasn’t much different from other districts.

That’s why it was called a poor district, not a slum. It was just... a place for people who’d lost their homes to monsters, or couldn’t afford a decent life.

Money was tight, but people’s hearts were still generous.

Every weekend, this place held a community gathering.

A free food kitchen, funded by the Starlight Foundation, held in Black Bear Park.

For those trying to bounce back—who might go hungry just from one misstep—this free meal was both welfare and a chance to check in with their neighbors.

SLUUUUUUUUURRP!

The residents of Zone 4—most of whom had known hunger themselves—never thought that people coming in from other districts to eat at the soup kitchen were stealing their share.

They simply thought, Ah, someone working hard is taking a short break, or Looks like they’re stopping by for a rest. Eat well, stay strong. They cheered them on.

After all, thanks to the support of the Starlight Foundation, the food at the soup kitchen was always prepared in generous abundance.

Gulp... gulp... gulp... Hoooo....

Maybe the rumors had spread. Sometimes, people from other districts would show up and go back for seconds, thirds, even more, stuffing their empty stomachs to the brim.

But even so, no one had ever seen a single person eat this much.

“Damn, he’s really putting it away, huh?”

“Holy crap... is today’s supply gonna run out?”

Just like the dusty laborers who showed up in their work gear, the man didn’t settle for just one plate. He came back again. And again. And again.

The residents of Zone 4 only smiled and said, You must be really hungry. Please, eat plenty. Eat lots.

But when the refills went beyond a few times... beyond a dozen times... and kept going, the entire soup kitchen turned their eyes toward the man.

“He finished another one!”

“WOOOOOOOO!”

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Next to the man, another person climbed up onto a ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ chair to make sure his tray was completely empty. When the man held it up overhead, a roar erupted from the crowd—both kids and adults alike.

At this point, his eating had become a full-blown performance.

The only ones who weren’t laughing were the people from the Starlight Foundation.

“...What do we do about this?”

“A pig came instead of a person...”

“Fuck... don’t tell me we already have to start cooking again...”

“He just ate an entire pig by himself.”

“He’s full now, right? That had to be the last one? Ohhh noooo...”

Amid the cheers, the huge man gulped down his water with a relaxed gulp gulp, and the children next to him patted his solid stomach as they chatted.

“You gonna eat more, mister? You really still got room?”

“Where’s it all go?! There’s nothing left!”

“If you eat this much, you’re gonna poop so much!”

“Don’t talk about poop while we’re eating.”

“Ew! Aha-hahahahaha!”

The man smiled and patted the head of the kid who said something so very childlike. Then, he stood up, picked up his empty tray, and walked to the serving line.

The volunteers turned pale—Hiiik!—but the woman at the very front of the line took the tray from him.

Her mouth was smiling. Her eyes... were not.

“Twenty... three! Is it? Did you, um... enjoy your meal?”

There was one rule at this soup kitchen: when someone said, Did you enjoy your meal?, you answered Thank you for the food, and left your tray behind.

In other words, it was a polite way of asking, Are you finished eating?

All eyes focused on a single point.

The man looked around at the residents. And boldly declared:

“I’m still... hungry.”

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“Oh... oh my, aren’t you just... quite the eater!”

In the middle of the cheers, the woman holding the tray... her smiling face began to twitch.