He rested his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The house was still. No hum of conversation, no echo of footsteps. Just him and the aftertaste of the day's labor clinging to his skin. The transmigration — the bizarre truth that pulsed underneath every breath he took — was something he hadn't even begun to untangle. A different world, a different Marcus. This life wasn't his, not originally. And yet… now it was.
And now with this new ability he would have to tread very carefully. He wasn't some kind of hero but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to save someone on whom he had laid eyes on. The previous life he didn't do anything of significance, this life he would try his best.
As long as he was safe. He always believed that in order to save others first, he needed to save himself and then reach his hand out to others.
A knock pulled him from his thoughts. Three soft raps. Hesitant. Familiar. Marcus frowned. It was already late. He pushed himself up and walked to the door, glancing through the peephole. He didn't need to. He already had a hunch. He opened it.
There she was — Mia.
She stood there, round-bellied and glowing under the porch light, her curly hair tied in a loose bun, and her hands full — a small covered bowl in one, a foil-wrapped parcel in the other.
"Evening," she said with a tired smile.
Marcus blinked. "Mia, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be walking around this late. You're—" he gestured toward her stomach, "—you."
She rolled her eyes gently. "Pregnant. Not porcelain."
"I made some lasagna. Thought you might like a warm dinner for once that didn't come from a hot plate or a deep fryer."
"Mia, you don't have to do this. I told you already — I'm fine."
"You always say that." Her voice was gentle. "But I know you're not. And you know I know."
He said nothing.
"You've been doing everything on your own," she continued. "Paying bills, running a business, keeping that smile for the crowd. But no one ever asks how you're doing, do they?"
He looked down at the bowl in his hands. It was warm. Real. The kind of warmth that lingers long after the meal.
"You live alone, Mia," he said, stepping out onto the porch. "You're about to bring a baby into this world without anyone else in the house. You shouldn't be walking around helping me."
Mia raised her eyebrows. "And what? Just sit inside like I'm already fragile and broken? You're not the only one who's been through things, Marcus. I want to help. It helps me too."
"I just don't want you to feel obligated."
"I'm not," she said quietly. "I'm not doing this out of pity, Marcus. I'm doing it because you're alone in this world and I know how it feels to be alone. Besides, you are almost a man now, maybe I will need your help one day soon."
"Mia, you shouldn't be good to people in general. They aren't good." Marcus said. "Sigh! Whatever. Want to come in?"
"I'm not staying long," she said. "Just wanted to drop it off."
"I know," he said. "But you can sit for a bit. Have you thought of a name?"
"No, I have some work and I will think of names later. Bye" Mia didn't stop by and left for her home as she felt she would be intruding Marcus on his silent time alone after a tough day at work, little did she know that Marcus wasn't working hard the way she or other thought.
Marcus did go with the truck very early but he hardly needed to work the same amount. He just needed to change the decimal point of the food items and voila. One onion changes to 10 onions. One pickle changes to 10 pickles and so on and so forth, so all his ingredients and items were already 1/10th of the price.
In fact recently he had to give away some of the food items to the poor and needy, so that it wouldn't be wasted as some items had a small shelf life. Of course he did this while following the food safety regulations. He didn't want them up his ass. And that was also the reason why he was loved by the community around and cheered upon whenever he pass by them.
And the reason why his food truck business was booming was also because he upped the decimal point of the ratings of the food. Any machinery is normally evaluated by the efficiency of it, and in the same way a food could also be rated.
Thus any food which could be rated as 10 star or 5 star could be changed to 50 stars or 100 stars, just by moving the decimal point from 5.0 to 50 or 10.0 to 100. That was absurd as food rating couldn't go beyond it's boundary but apparently it meant jackshit to the system, which was a huge bonus to Marcus.
So his food rating, which was mostly 3 or at beast 4 star out of 5, would be 30 or 40 stars. And this made his food the most precious and delicious food of the world, or maybe the entire universe if the taste buds of humans could be taken into consideration. Thus food was the least of the concerns of Marcus as he could make any street rotten food the best of its kind.
But even then he was happy that Mia cared for him, and this wasn't the first time she had brought food for him. She had moved few months ago as he could tell from the memory of the previous Marcus and she had always been alone. She probably had some story as she either refused or deflect about her past, and thus nobody pressured her to tell about what had happened and where was the father in the picture.