Chapter 9: food and chat
"What in the actual fuck is this!?" Cain shout, his voice cracking as he staggered two steps backward and froze. His eyes stayed locked on the cursed objects.
"Is this some kind of joke?!" he snapped, running a hand through his messy hair. "Why would I end up in something like this out of nowhere!?" His voice trembled, anger and disbelief tangling together. "I'm just some tired guy in his twenties, in first year of college. I just want to study, graduate, get a job—get married and this is what I get!?"
His breath grew heavier. "Becoming some kind of character stuck in a timeloop? Like those webtoon protagonists who die again and again?" He laughed about to lose his mind. "No. I don't want this. Get it out of me. Find someone else, you fucking Pierrot!!!!"
His gaze flicked wildly around the room, his hands clenching into fists. "I already have enough problems—no money, no peace, and that bratty spoiled queen sitting next to me at school—today, tomorrow, and probably forever!!!! Well she is pretty... and smell good, like high quality mango..."
His eyes fell again on the objects scattered before him. Each one offering power, each one demanding a price for every use.
Cain sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to stop. His shoulders slumped. His hands slowly loosened.
"…Calm down," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for a moment. "Don't think too much. There's still tomorrow." He swallowed. "I don't need to jump to conclusions. I still have time."
His stomach growled, pulling him back to his senses and reality. "I need to eat," he sighed, rubbing his face. "I need to relax before I completely lose it."
He glanced once more at the cursed objects. "…Eating is the only thing that can calm my nerves right now."
"Wait... It's already 8 p.m. If I got home around one or two… that's six or seven hours of sleep." He clicked his tongue softly. "I won't be able to sleep any longer. I'll be stay awake all night, waiting until I finally fall asleep again."
He walked to the freezer and pulled out the frozen salmon head. Cold air brushed his fingers as he placed it onto a plate and ran water over it, watching the ice slowly melt.
He reached for three whole onion. A few cloves of garlic. A few tomatoes, sliced carefully. From the corner of the counter, he picked up the last pieces of tamarind he had bought three days ago from a local seller, because of his craving for something sour just a few days ago.
"I don't have any dry seasoning to boost the sourness like the one my parents use," he muttered to himself, setting the ingredients aside. "But tamarind should be enough."
"Eggplant and big chilies are not available in the market," he said. "Spinach and cabbage will be the substitute for now, I don't have the right to complain when I don't have the money."
He placed the cleaned heads on the cutting board and chopped each one into four pieces.
He began washing the salmon heads under the running water, rubbing away the last traces of blood. Next, he set a large pot on the stove and filled it with water. He added sliced onions, ginger, and tomatoes, watching them sink and slowly float as the heat rose. Soon, the pot began to boil, and the vegetables softened, releasing a warm, familiar aroma.
He gently lowered the salmon pieces into the bubbling broth, waiting until the flesh turned tender. Then he added the tamarind, followed by salt, pepper, and a splash of fish sauce. He stirred carefully, tasting and adjusting the seasoning until it balances the taste.
Finally, he dropped in the cabbage and spinach, watching the leaves wilt into the soup.
"It smells so good," he murmured, steam brushing against his face.
After five more minutes, he turned off the stove.
"It's done," he said quietly, reaching for a bowl. "Time to eat."
He poured some of the soup into his bowl and took a careful sip. "Ahh…" he sighed, warmth spreading through his stomach. "That tastes good."
As he continued eating, he remembered something. "…Oh yeah. The app."
He picked up his phone and opened the Masked Dating App, scrolling with one hand while holding his spoon in the other. The first screen asked him to choose a name.
"Since I'm using a mask for my profile…" he murmured, tapping the screen, "…I'll call myself PIERROT." A short, sharp laugh escaped him. "Using that monster's name is like I'm cursing at him to ease my annoyance. But i just hope I never meet him again."
Next came the age selection. "Hm… there's nothing to hide there," he said quietly. "I'll just use my real age. It's not like anyone will know it's me anyway."
He entered 20.
The app then opened the custom design menu. Cain leaned closer, his thumb slowing.
"I'll make it look exactly like the Pierrot mask."
With careful swipes, he made the mask—its sorrowful expression, blood dripping from the eyes and mouth, thin golden lines spreading across the white surface like cracks. When he finished, he paused, staring at the screen. "this is good enough."
Unaware of it, Cain didn't realize this app would change his life forever. He didn't know it only connected users nearby, nor that switching to global was even an option. To him, it was just something to kill time and because of curiosity.
A notification appeared.
A message.
The sender was also marked NEW.
Username: duckling.
He opened her profile. Her mask was simple and oddly charming—a small duck face, one black eye, a yellow beak, and tiny painted wings.
Cain blinked, a faint smile forming without him noticing.
"…That's cute," he muttered.
Then a message suddenly appeared on Cain's screen.
> Duckling: Hello
Cain hesitated for a second, then typed back.
> Pierrot: Hello. Are you new here?
Three dots blinked for a moment before her reply appeared.
> Duckling: Yes. A friend recommended it to me.
What about you?
Cain balanced his phone against the edge of the table and answered while taking another spoonful of soup.
> Pierrot: I only heard about it recently.
A short pause followed, then another message came through.
> Duckling: Oh—sorry, I have to go for now. My maid just came into my room. I'll talk to you later, okay?
Cain blinked, his fingers hovering over the screen.
> Pierrot: Sure. By the way… what's your name?
The typing indicator appeared, then vanished. No reply came—at least not yet.
Cain leaned back in his chair, lowering his phone. He let out a quiet breath and smiled faintly.
"What a sweet person," he murmured to himself. "…Wait. Did she just say her maid?"
He stared at the ceiling, thinking.
"So she is rich too Oh… right. There are many spoiled people in university," he muttered. "this kid seems kind, and mannered, compared to those idiot in school."
Cain glanced back at his phone, the screen lighting up again before he could put it down. He saw a new stranger profile appeared—but this time, he was the one who moved first.
He tapped on a profile marked NEW.
Seraph.
Her mask immediately caught his eye. It was elegant and cool, shaped like a wolf's face with sharp, flowing lines, clearly designed with care. Yet it wasn't intimidating. Small paw markings softened the design, giving it a quiet charm that made it feel warm beneath the polished exterior.
Cain leaned back slightly, thumb hovering over the screen. After a moment, he typed.
> Pierrot: Hello.
The reply came sooner than he expected.
> Seraph: Good evening. I know this is our first time talking, so forgive me for stepping away already—I'm reading right now. Feel free to message me whenever you like. I'll respond when I'm free. Have a pleasant night.
Most of the people he had spoken to so far were polite—calm, respectful, well-mannered in their own ways. He knew better than to believe chat reflected reality, but still, it was comforting.
"They're all pretty friendly," he muttered to himself. "Well-mannered too. Of course, chat and real life aren't the same…" His thumb paused. "…But at least they're not like Eliza."
A new profile caught his eye.
The mask profile was impossible to miss—solid gold, layered with gemstones that glittered even on the small screen. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, arranged elegantly. It didn't look like a mask meant to hide someone. It looked like a real treasure.
znátnyy.
Then he tapped the chat.
> Pierrot: Hello.
The reply came instantly.
> znátnyy: How dare a peasant such as you speak to me? You filthy bottom feeder.
Cain blinked.
Another message followed.
> znátnyy: However… since you are the first person foolish enough to message me, I shall grant you an honor. From this moment on, you will serve as my chat attendant and my first servant on this app. You are expected to reply immediately—every second. Be grateful. This is a privilege for someone of your standing.
Cain stared at the screen in silence.
Then, slowly, he typed.
> Pierrot: …Yes, Madam.
He set the phone down and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple.
"I have a very bad feeling about this one, did I just met Eliza 2.0 in online?" Cain muttered.