I Returned, and Now I See Strange Things-Chapter 7: Paradise
She gave Hyesung a casual wave and returned to her rented room. The plastic bags in both hands were heavy, but she was nothing short of happy.
"Hehe..."
[You’re that pleased?]
"I’m happy."
She hadn’t earned money she needed to survive, but for now, she was content.
Call it being blinded by momentary pleasure—but if you considered how many months, maybe even years, it had been since she’d tasted anything like this, it was a small thing to fuss over.
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At least for now.
She began neatly putting the refrigerated items away in a fridge she wasn't even sure still worked. Not that it mattered—it was too small to fit much anyway.
Everything that didn’t need refrigeration went into the cupboard.
Except for what she was going to eat right now.
She tied up the extra bags she didn’t know when she’d use again and tucked them away in the cupboard, then grabbed a cup.
Tonight’s choice was potato chips and beer.
The blue-packaged potato chips she barely resisted buying in front of the abandoned hospital, and a beer she hadn’t had in forever.
It was a matching set: the chips in a blue bag, and the beer—also in a blue can, with gold lettering printed in an elegant font. In her memory, the packaging had been white. Maybe they’d updated the design.
Well, who cared about the color? What mattered was that it was right here in front of her.
She placed the cheap cup she'd bought from the thousand-won store on the floor and grabbed the beer can. It was still quite cold, freshly taken from the fridge.
Click click. Her hands were clumsy with excitement—the tab wasn’t catching under her fingernail properly.
Calm down. It’s nothing complicated.
No, it was important, but when you rush things, they tend to go wrong. So she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
“Phew...”
After a deep breath, she hooked her nail under the tab again.
This time it caught properly, and she pulled it open.
Click—pop! With a pleasant hiss, the carbonation rushed up. The fizzy shhkk sound made her shiver slightly.
She tilted the cup and poured the beer.
With a gentle gurgle, golden liquid cascaded into the cup. Soon it was filled to the brim, with a frothy white head resting on top.
A perfect sight.
She swallowed and tore open the bag of chips.
"...That hasn’t changed."
For how inflated the bag looked, the contents were ridiculously sparse—but the savory, salty aroma quickly erased any complaints.
She tore the bag down the center so she could easily reach in, then picked up the cup. It was already beading with condensation, making her hand damp.
Better drink before it got warm.
She brought the cup to her lips and drank deeply.
The sting of carbonation, the rich scent and flavor—
"Puh-ha!"
She drank about a third before setting it down, then grabbed a handful of chips. She even scooped up the crumbs and shoved everything into her mouth in one go.
Layer upon layer of potato chips crunched and crumbled, and the nostalgic taste of salt and umami exploded in her mouth.
“...If this isn’t yas, then what is.”
She muttered a phrase she’d once seen online, wiping away a small tear from the corner of her eye with her sleeve.
[Wait... you’re seriously crying?]
"...It stung, that’s all."
She picked up the cup again with her salty, greasy fingers and took another swig of beer.
Down it went, then back to the chips.
Truly perpetual motion.
Beer, then chips. Again and again.
The beer washed down the salty, greasy flavor of the chips, only for her to shovel in more chips. The epitome of inefficiency.
But it was in that inefficiency she found happiness.
The moment she realized happiness wasn’t logical.
Then—what she thought was perpetual motion, ran out.
She’d scraped the last bits from the inside of the bag, and now the potato chip bag was completely empty.
So was the beer cup.
Only the leftover foam clinging to the sides testified that beer had ever existed in that glass.
The can had been fully drained too.
It was devastating.
Why did happy times always end so quickly? She hated the world. Earth should guarantee a minimum living allowance for returnees! Provide unlimited chips and beer!
[Are you drunk?]
"Nooobody gets drunk /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ off just one beer~"
[...]
No way she was drunk. It was just one 500ml can.
Still, she felt good. She stifled the urge to open another bag and can, and neatly folded the empty chip bag. That way she could fit more trash into the bin.
She folded the chip bag into a triangle and tossed it in the trash. Then she raised her foot to crush the can.
She expected to hear a satisfying crunch!
Instead, it was her body that crumpled onto the floor.
"Ow! Ow ow ow!!"
[...]
A sharp jolt of pain brought her back to her senses. Of course she couldn’t crush a can barefoot. She rubbed her reddened sole as Ignis’s mocking voice rang out.
[See? You’re drunk. Idiot.]
"...."
Blushing, she steadied herself and grabbed the red stone—Ignis.
[Wha—wha, what are you trying to do?!]
Raising her hand high, she targeted the can—and smashed it down hard.
[KYAAAA!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!]
With Ignis’s shriek, a satisfying crack! echoed out. A tiny spark might’ve popped too, but she felt satisfied.
Though... her hand stung a little.
Still, seeing the beer can flattened made her grin.
"Hehe..."
[...I’m going insane.]
Cleaning up had made her feel even better. As she lay laughing on the floor, her phone buzzed.
Who was that... at this hour?
It probably wasn’t a spam ad, not at this time of night.
She crawled slowly over to the phone. With bleary eyes, she saw it was from an unknown number.
Judging from the content... it looked like that guy, Hyesung.
He’d texted to say he and his friends got home safely.
Guess he wasn’t totally hopeless.
She felt slightly awkward, having forgotten about them—but just knowing someone had texted her made her feel a little better.
She grabbed the phone to reply.
Why was this so hard to type?
[glad to hearr u guys got bck ok don’t evr go near tht place agan]
It was garbled, but readable, so she hit send.
...Should she have added an emoji or something? It looked too cold.
Eh, whatever. Not like they’d ever meet again.
She sent the message and, unable to fight the drowsiness anymore, passed out right there. Even the hard floor felt good.
—
—
—
Actually, the floor was the worst. Her back throbbed like it had been broken. Or maybe she just hadn’t slept enough.
Because she’d been woken up by a loud banging on the door.
"...Now what?"
She got up, thinking maybe it was a neighbor, and then—
There it was. That pale thing, clinging to the ceiling. Familiar somehow. She stared blankly, and Aslan’s voice spoke up.
[A pitiful soul.]
...It must’ve been chatting with Aslan last night. That would explain the eerie quiet.
But before she could follow that train of thought, there was another loud knock.
BANG! BANG!
What kind of asshole pounded on someone’s door like that? If they broke it, would they take responsibility?
Gripping her aching head, she shuffled to the door.
She left the chain lock on and undid the rest. Better safe than sorry.
With a groan, the door creaked open.
Through the gap, she saw a man with a cranky-looking face and sharply angular glasses.
"Who is it?"
"Why did you take so long to answer?"
"I was sleeping."
"Hah. So you wake everyone else up and get to sleep in peace yourself?"
What the hell was his problem?
She tilted her head, and he scowled.
"You were banging around early this morning."
...Ah. Must’ve been when she smashed the can with Ignis.
Why had she done that?
"...Sorry about that."
"Please be more mindful next time."
"Sure."
She was at fault, so she had no excuse. Admitting it cleanly seemed to soften his expression. He gave her a strange, almost pitying look.
"...It’s not your head, is it—never mind. Sorry to bother you."
And with that, the man disappeared down the stairs. For how hard he’d knocked, that had ended surprisingly peacefully.
She let out a huge yawn and rubbed her eyes.
She thought about going back to sleep—but with that thing still floating around on the ceiling, she couldn’t relax.
First... she was thirsty. She headed to the sink.
Thinking she’d just drink tap water, she grabbed a cup. But then she remembered last night.
Instead of drinking from the tap, she poured the water into a bowl and opened the fridge.
And there it was: paradise.
She grabbed an aloe drink she’d picked thinking it might have nutritional value, and twisted the cap.
Crack! The lid opened with a sound.
Already, the sweet smell filled the room.
She poured it generously into the cup, sealed the bottle, and put it back in the fridge. Then she sipped slowly, savoring it.
Sweet, sticky, filled with chewy pulp—the perfect drink.
Satisfied, she laid out her blanket on the floor.
Snuggling into the cool fabric, she looked up at the ceiling and spoke.
"Alright, let’s hear it. What’ve you got to say for yourself?"
If it was nonsense, she wasn’t listening.
