Chapter 3: Taste of Peace, Burnt at the Edges

I start looking for something simple to wear to go to the convenience store.

Clunk.

Rummaging through the wardrobe in the corner of the room, I find some decent clothes and throw them on.

I pull a black cap low over my face and grab a mask.

For the top, I pick a comfy hoodie, and for the bottom, dolphin shorts—top-tier for ease of movement.

Ready to head out, I stand in front of the locked door.

I unlock it and step outside.

Beep-beep!

The door opens with a cheerful mechanical chime.

A fairly wide hallway stretches out.

I head toward the elevator at the end of the corridor.

Luckily, it’s late, so I don’t run into anyone.

I press the down button and wait.

The elevator arrives, and I step inside.

It’s surprisingly spacious, with a small TV tucked in the corner.

With nothing else to do on the way down, I glance at the TV.

It’s blaring an ad for a virtual reality VR device.

“VR device?”

Back in 2021, VR and virtual reality were popular.

But the tech was lacking—clunky avatars, stiff movements.

Still, people were drawn to the allure of “virtual reality,” and many bought VR gear to dive in.

Back then, VR felt like a genre I had to hold out on, like a stock waiting to ripen.

The tech was incomplete, something to keep an eye on.

But the VR being advertised now is on another level.

“Experience gaming in virtual reality!!! Feel the thrill and fun you can’t get in the real world!”

By 2034, humanity has perfected virtual reality, and I’m floored by the progress in this world.

“Wow, sht. Insane.”

I can’t help but gasp as I watch the ad.

It’s showing a world more real than reality itself.

‘What the hell happened in ten years?’

They say a decade can change mountains and rivers, but this is beyond anything I imagined.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the ad until the elevator reaches the ground floor.

The elevator hits the first floor, and I step out.

Right in front of me is the entrance to the outside.

I hesitate for a moment.

My mind swirls with thoughts.

How much has the outside world changed?

What if it’s not the world I knew?

But those thoughts fade quickly, and I find myself moving toward the exit.

Curiosity, excitement, and the joy of returning to normal life outweigh any fear or worry.

Humans are curious creatures.

Without that curiosity, Columbus would’ve never found the New World.

I open the door and step outside.

Cool, crisp air brushes past my nose—no trace of the acrid gunpowder stench I was so used to on the battlefield.

The scent of grass from the city’s flowerbeds and a faint whiff of exhaust greet me.

I walk forward slowly.

The city’s scenery starts imprinting itself in my mind.

Not a city littered with half-destroyed buildings.

A normal cityscape, one I haven’t seen in ages.

Not a battlefield strewn with bodies, but a peaceful world.

My steps quicken.

People I didn’t see in the hallway start passing by—behind me, beside me.

Some glance my way, but I don’t care.

No, I can’t care.

I’m too busy soaking in the peace, letting the tension melt away for the first time in forever.

I take in the city’s sights, memorizing its layout.

This is where I’ll live now, so knowing the area won’t hurt.

‘I was expecting something cyberpunk, but it’s not much different from 2021.’

I’d hoped for a cyberpunk vibe, but the city looks like a typical 2021 urban sprawl.

A bit disappointed, I keep walking.

After a few minutes, I spot a convenience store with striking yellow and green colors.

It’s the same chain I used to frequent before I got isekai’d, and I’m a little impressed it’s still around after ten years.

‘Let’s go in.’

I let out a small sigh and head toward the door.

A “Pull” sticker on the door makes me feel like I’ve truly returned to everyday life.

Jingle!

The cashier, who was fiddling with their smartphone, stands and says, “Welcome!”

A loud noise blares from the phone on the counter.

Sounds like they were watching a YouTube video.

Realizing the noise, the cashier quickly lowers the phone and greets me with a smile.

Then, they notice me and freeze, clearly shocked by my appearance.

A cap with a white W embroidered on it.

A casual gray hoodie, probably thrown on from home.

Short dolphin shorts that show every contour of my legs.

Slippers, screaming I rushed out of the house.

It’s the kind of outfit a jobless person might wear, but it can’t hide my sharp eyes or striking looks.

Long, dark hair and a slightly fierce gaze.

The mask hides most of my face, but what’s visible is enough to guess my appearance.

Was there someone like her in this neighborhood?

The cashier, who’s worked here for three years, doesn’t recall ever seeing me.

They stare at my face for a while but quickly look away to avoid being rude.

I don’t even glance their way.

‘Must’ve moved here recently.’

I grab a basket and head to the instant noodle aisle, piling in as many as I can.

Then I grab drinks like water and linger at the alcohol section, debating.

“They’ve got Thumsby? The beer those bastards gave me tasted like sht.”

My voice is soft but audible.

It’s pleasant, but laced with harsh curses, especially the word “bastards” with a sharp edge.

After a moment, I pick up some Thumsby cans and toss them in the basket.

Thumsby, a beer women who hate bitter flavors often choose.

Looks like I’m no different.

With my basket full, I head to the counter.

The cashier pulls out the POS machine to ring me up.

I unload my items, and what stands out are the ten cans of beer.

That’s a lot of alcohol.

The cashier, scanning the barcodes, speaks up.

“Can I see your ID?”

“Oh.”

I pull out my wallet and hand over my ID.

“Confirmed.”

After verifying I’m an adult, they return it.

I look at the cashier and say, “Can you grab me a pack of HiXraya? Oh, and a lighter too.”

Cigarettes, huh?

The cashier seems surprised.

I don’t look like someone who smokes, but on second thought, it probably suits me.

A pretty face makes anything look good.

They grab a pack of HiXraya from behind the counter and turn back to me.

“Need a bag?”

With a friendly smile, they ask, Pty

I nod slightly.

“Yes.”

“What?”

Their voice is so soft they don’t hear me, so I pull down my mask and repeat.

“Bag, please.”

“Uh…”

“What’re you doing?”

“Huh? Oh, yes!”

With my mask down, the cashier gets a full view of my face.

Holy sht, she’s gorgeous.

I’m easily one of the most beautiful people they’ve seen in their life—top three, no question.

Their response comes a beat late, but I don’t notice.

Hoping to sneak a longer look, they pack my items slowly.

Annoyed by the pace, I start tossing stuff into the bag myself.

The cashier’s plan to steal glances crumbles spectacularly.

“Take care.”

I open the door and leave.

Please come back…

The cashier watches me go, silently praying I’ll return.

Jingle!

The same cheerful bell rings as I leave, my business at the convenience store done.

I pull a pack of cigarettes from the bag.

Korean cigarettes, after so long.

Back in the game, a teammate got me to try a Chinese cigarette once.

It smelled like some weird clay sauna, so I took one puff and tossed it.

Later, with no other options, I smoked those too.

Recalling those days, I peel off the plastic wrap.

I feel the texture of the paper pack, open it, and remove the inner foil.

I pop a cigarette in my mouth and crush the capsule.

A sweet apple flavor fills my mouth.

‘Tastes sweet.’

I light it with the lighter I just bought.

The tip glows red, burning, white smoke curling upward.

Suck.

I take a drag.

A sting hits my throat, paired with that sweet apple scent.

I missed this.

Exhale.

The smoke I’d held in my mouth spirals upward in a graceful arc.

I take another drag.

After a few puffs, my head feels fuzzy.

Guess my brain hasn’t adjusted to nicotine after so long.

“Not bad, this.”

Peace, with no bullets flying.

And a cigarette that tastes good in that peace.

Everything feels unfamiliar, but it’s the everyday life I’d longed for.