Chapter 8

Sunday morning, Masato arrives at Furue Station’s fountain plaza. Since his companion is older and a teacher, he makes it five minutes early to avoid being rude.

“Sensei?”

“Yo, you’re here!”

A small figure waves from the plaza.

It’s Ms. Kamina.

Surprisingly, she arrived even earlier than Masato’s five-minute buffer. He’d braced for a “Sorry, I’m late” message at the meeting time, so this catches him off guard.

“You’re early.”

“Miscalculated and got here thirty minutes ago.”

“Thirty? Sorry for making you wait…”

He feels a bit guilty for keeping her that long.

“Don’t sweat it. I just showed up too early.”

Today’s outfit isn’t her usual tracksuit or suit—gray striped top, denim shorts, an open gown dress, and white sneakers. Different from yesterday’s vibe.

“Man, Sensei…”

“What’s that look?!”

He can’t help staring, like yesterday. She blushes slightly, turning away.

“No, just… like I thought yesterday, you look good outside of tracksuits or suits.”

“W-What…!”

He imagines Midori in a similar outfit—she’d probably pull it off too.

“Don’t say weird stuff! C’mon, let’s go!”

Unaccustomed to compliments, she turns and starts walking, flustered. Masato chuckles and follows.

They arrive at a small, privately-run eatery a few minutes from the station.

“‘Curry & Naan Specialty Shop Veda’…?”

Masato reads the sign.

“Yup! Let’s head in!”

A cheerful male staff greets them: “Irasshaimase!”

His slightly accented Japanese suggests he’s not local. A Nepalese flag on display hints he’s from there.

The place has about thirty seats, small for a backstreet shop, yet nearly full. It’s Masato’s first time, but it must be popular.

Guided to a two-person table, another staff promptly brings water and towels.

“Been wanting to come here forever. Heard it’s great online,” Ms. Kamina says.

“Your first time too, Sensei?”

“Yup! Been hyped for this.”

She points to a menu item: “Giant Naan Challenge! Take on a table-sized naan! Finish in 30 minutes, and it’s free! ※Failure incurs regular price.” A photo compares the naan to their table. Failing costs several times a regular lunch.

“You’re ordering that…?”

“It’s all about the challenge! Go for it!”

“Me?!”

“What? My tiny body can’t handle that. …That sounded kinda dirty.”

“Ignoring that last bit… I’m not doing it.”

“Ugh, I came for this! I can’t do it, so I brought you for the live sports vibe!”

“Don’t sacrifice others for your entertainment…”

“Succeed, and it’s free!”

She’s calculated not spending a dime. He didn’t expect pure goodwill, but dragging him into her fun was unexpected.

They order regular lunch menus—curries with spice levels chosen, plus plain naan and salad. Masato picks butter chicken; she gets mutton.

She looks bored when he skips the challenge but keeps her promise to treat.

“You went for a cheap menu, so I’ll treat, but I wanted to see some guts.”

“Then drag a colleague or Developer buddy into it.”

She hesitates, “Hmm…”

“Other Developers don’t enjoy this world like I do.”

“Really?”

“They treat it as work. I’m the odd one out. Nobody else joins me for fun.”

“Got it… What about school colleagues? You live as a teacher, so you’ve got friendly coworkers, even if it’s temporary, right?”

“…Ugh, I avoided that topic. Well, I don’t talk personal stuff with colleagues…”

Her eyes dart nervously.

“So, you’re bad at casual chit-chat and stick to business?”

“Guh!”

She takes a mental hit.

“A loner, huh?”

“Gah!”

Another blow.

“D-Don’t call me a loner! I’m… a solitary soul!”

“Not lonely?”

“Sol-i-tary!”

“Sure, sure.”

Semantics. Loner hit a nerve.

“So, I was your last resort.”

Nobody else to drag along.

(She acts like a punk but is secretly a shy nerd…)

“But I’ve got friends!”

“Not just online gaming friend counts.”

“Hey! Online friendships count!”

“How many real friends, face-to-face?”

“…O-One.”

She raises her index finger.

“One…”

He pauses, realizing who. She blushes, glancing at him shyly.

“Me…?”

Seems he’s right. She looks away awkwardly. He saw her as teacher, student, or bug-fixing partner, but she sees more.

Her eyes ask, Is that okay? Like an abandoned animal, he can’t say no.

It’s not like he minds.

“…Fine! We’re friends. Stop looking at me like that.”

Her face lights up.

“Yup, that’s right! We’re soulmates!”

(She’s so happy… how lonely was she?)

And then, “Teacher and student as friends… is that okay?”

“Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

He expected that response.

“Today’s our friendship anniversary! I’ll never forget this day till I die. How about we celebrate here every year? Exchange gifts…”

(Her friendship’s kinda heavy…)

She might be a high-maintenance friend, he thinks.

“Hey, your order!”

Two staff bring their food. One carries her mutton curry and regular naan. The other—

“Huge!”

A table-sized naan, folded in half on a large plate—clearly Masato’s order, but it’s the Giant Naan Challenge naan.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t order the challenge…”

“Eh? Wrong order?”

“I ordered regular naan…”

As he corrects, Ms. Kamina cuts in.

“Hey, no big deal! A mistake, but it works for me!”

“For you!”

“Sorry for mix-up! But already made, so try challenge! Even if fail, same price as lunch menu!”

(Same price even if I fail?)

The challenge’s only difference is the naan’s size. The butter chicken curry is normal, likely not enough for the naan, but no loss if he can’t finish.

“…Fine, I’ll take it.”

No choice. With food delivered, Masato resolves to show his mettle. He’s not one to back down from a challenge—not entirely—but it’s worth a shot.

“Okay! Good luck!”

The staff sets the giant naan down. Folded, it fits, but unfolded, it’d crowd out her food.

“Go!”

The staff pulls out a stopwatch, already started.

“Wait, I’m not ready!”

“Hurry, or time’s up!” she teases.

“Damn it…!”

Thus, Masato’s challenge begins.

First bite—he tears a piece of hot naan, dips it in curry, and eats.

“…Oh, it’s good.”

The rich, sweet-spicy curry bursts in his mouth. A specialty shop’s level above store-bought.

The naan’s sweetness follows. He thought it’d be bland, but chewing reveals a subtle sweetness, likely to balance the curry’s spice. The texture’s chewy and delicious.

“This might be doable.”

Just starting, but the taste makes him think he could finish.

“Heh, finish it for my wallet’s sake,” she says, eating her naan, groaning happily, “Mmm!”

Masato tears, dips, and eats at a steady pace.

At this rate, he might finish in time.

—Or so he thought, until ten minutes later, the obvious flag is triggered.

(Huh? Still this much…?)

He thought he’d eaten a lot, but it’s not even half. The curry’s running low, soon forcing him to face naan alone. Despite its sweetness, eating just that is tough.

Fifteen minutes in, halfway through the time limit, he realizes his estimate was way off.

Hunger and the food’s taste made him overconfident, feeling it was less. But as his stomach fills, reality hits—the true remaining amount becomes clear.

(Wait, I’m barely at 40%…)

He’s already feeling accomplished and full, but the naan’s still got plenty left!, showing off its endurance.

This is a final boss.

He chose the wrong opponent.

A cocky novice adventurer facing a hard-mode enemy.

“Hey, Sensei…”

Seeing it’s too much, he looks to Ms. Kamina, who’s already finished and is now on her phone, bored with spectating.

(This jerk…)

Dragging him for her fun, then ignoring him for another distraction. No wonder she’s friendless.

“Hm? What?”

“Help.”

He meant to plead, but her attitude makes it a demand.

“Nope, can’t help.”

“Why not?”

“The challenge is solo. If I help, it’s void. All your effort’s wasted.”

“Ugh…”

True. Help disqualifies him, nullifying everything.

“So, keep at it!”

She returns to her phone.

(No choice.)

This beastly god’s useless.

Ten minutes left to defeat a boss with over half its health.

Driven not to waste his effort, Masato returns to the battlefield solo.

But nothing’s improved. His stomach’s capacity dwindles, his health draining.

(No… my stomach’s gonna burst!)

Not literally—it’d come out one end or the other first—but it feels like his gut might split.

Still, a man’s gotta win—

Maybe he’s competitive, a gamer at heart.

It’s no longer eating—it’s processing. He shuts off his mind, focusing on the battle.

Leaving the shop, Masato and Ms. Kamina walk to the station.

“Urp… I’m good for a while…”

Stuffed with naan, his steps wobble like a newborn fawn.

“Heh, good job! Solid finish!”

“It was less eating and more shoving by the end…”

But he beat the final boss, battered as he is.

“Saved me some cash!”

Thinking calmly, the naan was tasty, but he didn’t exactly get treated—too drained to retort.

“Well done,” she says, stretching to pat his head.

Embarrassed, he looks away.

“So, I got a free meal and this photo.”

He pulls out a challenge success photo, printed from a digital camera—one for each. It shows a half-dead Masato and Ms. Kamina clinging to his arm, beaming with a peace sign like she’s the star.

(She looks prouder than me… annoying.)

Back at the station plaza, heading to the station—

“That was fun! Let’s do it again!”

“Fun? I did the work, and you were on your phone half the time! If we do it again, no eating challenges.”

“Ugh… How about this?”

She shows her phone: “How much can you eat?! From reptiles to bugs! Exotic Food Challenge! Includes edible cockroaches!”

The ingredients and his full stomach make him gag at the thought.

“Stop showing me that… Were you on your phone looking for the next spot?”

“Yup! Got a playmate now, so I wanna hit up tons of places! This isn’t an eating challenge, so I’m in too!”

This world’s game-loving creator plans to keep enjoying it.

“Your taste… classic loner.”

“Don’t call me that! What’s loner about this?! Besides, I’ve got you, my soulmate!”

“Fine, I’ll hang out again, but pick something else. This genre’s tougher than the eating challenge…”

It started as a treat, became friendship, and now they’re planning the next outing. He doesn’t mind.

Truthfully, the naan challenge wasn’t not fun. He’s not eager for a rematch, but unless she picks something bizarre, hanging out’s fine—beyond just food.

“Hmm, got it. Thought it’d be fun, but if you say so… What’s your pick? Something cool? Doesn’t have to be food…”

She slides her finger on the phone, pondering.

“Hey, Sensei.”

“Hm?”

“You said other Developers treat this world as work, not fun. But you’re always playing—don’t you have stuff to do?”

“Rude! I do my job. No complaints from above.”

Her gaming obsession seems fine with her bosses.

“Wish others enjoyed it too. Not just games—this world’s full of fun stuff. Gotta make the most of it!”

Gazing distantly at the plaza, she sees a man on his phone waiting, laughing schoolgirls, a family with a stroller, an elderly couple chatting, a suited woman heading to the station, a young couple rushing across a blinking crosswalk—all living in this world.

“…I’ve been looking forward to coming here forever.”

Her eyes are like a kid at a long-awaited amusement park, brimming with excitement but tinged with loneliness.

“What was your world like?”

He never cared about the higher world—too distant. But getting to know her sparks curiosity.

But—

“It’s a secret. I don’t have clearance to share that.”

She doesn’t tell.

“…But if I had to say one thing, it’s boring. So boring that we made this other world.”

Her eyes, reflecting her old world, turn dry and emotionless, like a doll’s.

“…Got it.”

He can’t know her world but senses her feelings there. He drops it.

“Got time? Wanna catch a movie now? There’s a cool sci-fi flick!”

“Movies, huh…”

He planned to visit Midori if free, but it’s fine. Weekdays, he visits her at set times, but weekends are flexible, just for dinner together. Sometimes he’s there all day, sometimes just for dinner. Midori’s okay with his schedule.

Not visiting at all, though

“Paying for it?”

“Nope. One-time treat. Don’t underestimate a teacher’s salary.”

“You could cheat and max your savings, right?”

“That’d be boring.”

Her gamer spirit applies to daily life. Maybe this world’s a game to her.

“To the movies!”

As Ms. Kamina starts walking—

“No. That’s not allowed, Mika Kamina.”

A woman’s voice from behind negates her. At first, Masato thinks it’s someone else’s conversation, but she used Ms. Kamina’s full name.

It’s directed at her.

The voice feels familiar—

“You’re… Ootomo-san?”

Turning, he sees Midori’s former classmate, Ootomo.

Ms. Kamina recognizes her, eyes sharpening.

“You…”

Masato notices her aura’s completely different—not friendly, but cold and prickly. Her polite tone feels mechanical, her sharp gaze making her seem like another person despite her appearance.

“No, who are you?”

He blurts it out.

“Good instincts. She’s my colleague,” Ms. Kamina answers.

“Colleague…? So…”

“You’re the human from Mika’s report, Masato Akatsuchi. I’m… let’s say, part of the Developer group, in her terms,” Ootomo (?) says, her voice flat and emotionless, like a machine or doll.

(A Developer… looks like Ootomo but isn’t?)

Too identical for coincidence.

“But” she continues, “that’s only the current me. This body holds two wills—mine and its original owner’s.”

“Two wills…?”

“Yes. The Ootomo-san you met is this body’s original owner.”

“Original owner…”

Ms. Kamina explains, “Basically, a tacked-on second personality. Unlike me, she skipped making a body and took over an existing NPCs. She’s coexisting with the original personality.”

“I’ll go by Mika Ootomo,” she says.

“Oh…”

Ms. Kamina’s first name is Mika too—maybe a developer naming convention.

“So, does the real Ootomo-san know about the world’s nature?”

She seemed oblivious to Midori before. If that was acting, she’s a master.

Mika Ootomo shakes her head, denying it.

“No. The body’s owner knows nothing of the world or me. She’s unrelated to Developers. I ask you, Masato Akatsuchi, to keep this secret from her.”

“Got it.”

Relief—she’s not a master actress. That’d shake his trust in people.

“I usually let the original personality take over, staying dormant. I surface only for high-priority tasks. While I’m out, the original sleeps, with no memory of it.”

“Unlike me, she’s got no interest in enjoying this world outside work. Lots of Developers like her just pop in when needed,” Ms. Kamina adds.

“You waste too much time,” Mika Ootomo says.

“That waste is the good part, but you don’t get it,” Ms. Kamina shrugs, exasperated but friendly, suggesting they’re close.