The Kisaragi family dining room was usually a place of quiet, clinical observation. A place where Samantha's mother would count the spoonfuls of rice she ate and measure her energy levels by the pallor of her skin.
Today, it was a culinary warzone, and the only casualty was Samantha's composure.
"Ooooh, my heavens! The fluffiness! The delicate, savory notes of the dashi mixed into the egg! The slight sweetness from the mirin!"
A piece of tamagoyaki—a fluffy, rolled omelet—paused halfway to Samantha's mouth. She shot a murderous glare at the air just to the left of the soy sauce dispenser, where a certain spectral foodie was doing ecstatic loop-the-loops.
"This is an artisanal masterpiece! A symphony of texture and flavor! Your mother is a goddess of the kitchen!" Mochi shrieked, its voice a high-pitched buzz only she could hear.
Could you please shut up? she thought, projecting the sentiment with all the force she could muster. You're narrating my breakfast like it's the season finale of a cooking show.
She shoved the egg into her mouth, the rich, savory flavor exploding on her tongue in a way that was still shockingly new. Food had always been a chore, a necessary fuel she had to force down. But now… now she could taste every nuance, every grain of salt. It was overwhelming. It was wonderful.
"The way you chew! Such efficiency! You are maximizing the surface area for your taste buds! A true connoisseur!"
I'm going to exorcise you.
"Mph! Mmph!" Mochi clamped its stubby hands over where its mouth would be, a gesture that was entirely symbolic and utterly useless.
Across the small table, Elena Kisaragi placed her chopsticks down, a gentle smile gracing her lips. But her eyes, sharp and analytical, missed nothing. "You seem to be enjoying your food today, Sam-chan."
Samantha nearly choked. Right. Normalcy. Act normal.
She swallowed hastily and managed a watery smile. "Ah, yeah. I guess I just woke up with an appetite for once."
"An appetite is a good sign," Elena said, her voice soft. The smile didn't quite reach her eyes, where years of ingrained worry resided. She watched Samantha lift her cup of tea, her gaze tracking the movement with the precision of a hawk. "But remember not to overdo it. Your system isn't used to it."
My 'system' is now a magical contract with a floating mochi, Mom. I think it can handle some eggs.
"I feel fine, Mom. Honestly," Samantha insisted, the lie tasting bitter even amidst the delicious breakfast. The guilt was a familiar companion, but this new flavor—this deception about being well instead of ill—was sharp and unsettling.
Her mother studied her for a long, silent moment, a universe of unspoken fears passing through her expression. Then she sighed, the sound heavy with a lifetime of vigilance. "Alright. But you will tell me, the very second you feel even slightly unwell. Promise me."
"I promise," Samantha said, the words feeling like stones in her throat.
"Psst! Contractor! Let's go! Time is a-wastin'! We have quests to view!" Mochi buzzed impatiently by her ear.
Samantha finished her last piece of toast, mumbled a quick "Gochisousama-deshita," and practically fled the table, escaping her mother's loving, suffocating gaze.
The moment her bedroom door clicked shut behind her, the dam of her restraint broke.
"Are you actively trying to get me committed to a mental institution?" she hissed at the air.
Mochi popped into existence before her, spinning with uncontained glee. "But the food! You have no idea what it's like to experience flavor for the first time in centuries! It was divine! Now, quickly! Open the interface! Just will it to appear!"
Samantha rolled her eyes but took a deep breath. Okay, System. Show me what you've got.
The air in front of her shimmered. Motes of sapphire light coalesced, weaving together like a digital tapestry until they formed a solid, holographic window. It hummed with a faint, low energy, its blue glow casting sharp shadows across her room.
[Host: Samantha Kisaragi]
[Vitality: Stable (Chronic Illness Suppressed)]
[Physical Prowess: Sub-Par (For Now!)]
[Mission Status: (2) New Missions Available]
"Wait," Samantha breathed, her eyes locking on the number. "Two?"
"Ooooh! A starter-pack special! A buy-one-get-one-free deal on existential dread! Click it! See what they are!" Mochi bounced in the air, its glow intensifying with excitement.
With a surge of apprehension, Samantha focused her intent on the mission status. The screen flickered, replaced by a new window.
[Main Mission #1: The First Bud of Love]
[Objective: Make one (1) individual develop genuine romantic feelings for you.]
[Difficulty: ★★☆☆☆]
[Time Limit: 30 Days, 0 Hours]
[Reward for Success: Skill - 'Enhanced Stamina']
[Penalty for Failure: Stage 1 'Cursed Physique' Activation]
The words swam before Samantha's eyes. The air left her lungs in a silent whoosh, as if she'd been punched.
"…You have got to be kidding me."
Mochi zipped closer to the screen, its huge eyes scanning the text. "OH-HO! A romance quest right out of the gate! And only two stars! See? The System is easing you in! This'll be a piece of cake!"
A strangled, hysterical laugh escaped Samantha's lips. "A piece of cake? A PIECE OF CAKE? Mochi, my entire high school social life can be summarized as 'the sick girl in the back of the class.' My longest conversations with a boy have been with Dr. Aoki's son when he dropped off my prescriptions! Who am I supposed to get to fall in love with me?! The mailman?!"
"Hmm, you raise a valid point," Mochi mused. "But you're quite pretty now that you don't look like a Victorian ghost! That has to count for something!"
"That is NOT the point!" she shrieked, clutching her hair.
Just as her panic reached its crescendo, a soft ping echoed from the holographic screen. A second notification had appeared, flashing insistently.
[Sub-Mission (Mandatory): Foundational Physical Conditioning]
[Objective: Complete 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10km run.]
[Time Limit: 23 Hours, 59 Minutes]
[Reward for Success: Minor Vitality Boost]
[Penalty for Failure: ???]
Samantha stared. The three stark, black question marks pulsed with silent, infinite menace.
"…Is this a joke?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. The romance quest was absurd, but this… this was just cruel.
Mochi let out a low whistle. "Whoa. That's the training regimen from that one bald hero manga, isn't it? Intense! But hey, look on the bright side—the penalty isn't listed!"
"THAT MAKES IT WORSE, YOU IDIOT GHOST!" Samantha screamed, her voice cracking. "It could be anything! It could be instant death! It could be my fingernails fall off! It could be—"
She stopped.
A cold, dawning horror washed over her, far more terrifying than any listed penalty.
The romance mission. The penalty for failing it was the 'Cursed Physique'.
The brutal, impossible workout.
Her blood ran cold. "Wait a minute. This isn't random, is it?" she said, her gaze fixed on the screen. "This workout… it's training. It's to prepare my body for… for when I fail the main mission and turn into that… that muscle monster."
The System wasn't just giving her a mission. It was giving her a preparatory course for her own damnation.
Mochi had the decency to look sheepish, its glow dimming slightly. "Uhhh… well… the System does advocate for… proactive preparation?"
A wave of dizziness hit Samantha, and she stumbled back to sit on the edge of her bed. This was a nightmare. A ridiculous, terrifying, high-stakes nightmare orchestrated by a cosmic entity with a sick sense of humor.
"Chin up, contractor!" Mochi chirped, its optimism returning with a vengeance. "Think of it as a two-pronged attack! We'll find you a nice, easily impressionable boy to woo while simultaneously forging your new, healthy body into a temple of physical fitness! I'll be your cheerleader!"
Samantha dropped her head into her hands, the smooth, healthy skin of her palms a bizarre contrast to the utter disaster her life had become in the last hour.
"Operation: Earnest Love & Iron Buns is a go!" Mochi declared with a triumphant clap of its tiny hands.
"I'm going to die," she groaned into her palms. "This is how I die."