That morning, I slowly opened my eyes—and didn't feel like I'd just been hit five times by the world.
No shouting voices, no two-headed chickens staring at me from the corner of the room, and most shocking of all: I felt… refreshed.
Like I actually slept.
Peacefully.
Without nightmares about breathing taxes or cursed hard pillows.
I got up from the bed, a little hesitant.
This mattress was too soft. Too comfortable.
It almost made me suspect there was some kind of "false happiness" curse that activates after five nights.
I got dressed and prepared to head down to the lobby, fully intending to resume life on maximum alert mode—as usual.
But just as I was about to leave the inn, a server approached me.
A young woman with a clean apron, a sincere smile, and… a tray.
"Adventurer Miss, here's your breakfast," she said gently, offering me a plate of warm bread and a bowl of savory-smelling soup.
My brain instantly went on high alert.
Breakfast?
Free?
Was this a trap?
I stared at the food like it was a gift from a demon being unusually generous.
"…Is this an extra charge?" I asked cautiously, almost by reflex.
In Matei, a single piece of bread cost half your soul—and was hard enough to be used as a weapon.
Soup?
Forget it. It was usually just warm water with a single mystery leaf.
The server giggled softly. "Of course not, Miss. It's part of the standard service at our inn."
Standard, she said.
I stared at her for a moment, searching for signs of deceit on her face.
But all I saw was sincerity—and a bit of confusion because I had been staring at the bread like it was a forbidden artifact.
Finally, with a slow breath, I sat down and picked up the bread.
Warm.
Soft.
Its sweet aroma was utterly tempting.
Then I took a spoonful of the soup—clear broth rich with flavor, with chunks of real vegetables and actual meat.
Not meat's shadow.
Not stock you had to squint to imagine.
This was… real.
I tasted it.
And the tears just came out.
Not from spice.
Not from sadness.
But because it was delicious.
After everything—after all the culinary horrors I've dared to call "life experience"—this was the first meal that didn't feel like the world was personally insulting me.
I didn't even care who saw me.
I ate slowly, savoring it like someone who had just rediscovered the meaning of life.
For a moment, I felt human again—not just a tired entity held together by sarcasm, spite, and hard bread.
Out there, the world might still be full of deception.
But this morning… this morning I won.
This morning, I had breakfast like a real human being.