The hunger returned that evening, sharp and insistent, as if his body was finally realizing it could demand more. Adrian sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the flickering bulb overhead when the familiar notification appeared before his eyes:
[Quest: Eat a proper meal before nightfall.]
Reward: $50 + Minor Health Boost.
His lips twitched into a wry smile. The System seemed almost motherly in its demands. Food. Rest. Small, simple things he had denied himself for months.
Adrian gathered the courage to step outside again, walking through the narrow streets where the smell of frying oil and baked bread drifted from corner stalls. His pocket buzzed; the balance showed the earlier $50 reward from the café quest. He tightened his grip on the notes he had withdrawn, determined not to waste them.
He stopped at a small bakery tucked between a pawn shop and a repair store. The warm scent of fresh bread pulled him in like a hand. Inside, the shelves were lined with golden loaves, each one a promise of comfort. He bought a round loaf still warm from the oven and, on impulse, added a small bowl of stew from the counter.
Seated on a wooden stool, he broke off the first piece of bread. It was soft, fluffy, with a crust that cracked gently between his teeth. He dipped it into the stew and closed his eyes as the warmth spread through him. It was not a feast, not a grand meal by any measure — yet to Adrian, it tasted like victory.
The System chimed:
[Quest Complete. Reward: $50.]
[Health: Slightly Improved.]
Adrian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're serious about keeping me alive, aren't you?" he whispered under his breath.
As he ate, he noticed a mother and child across the bakery, the little boy laughing as he smeared jam on his bread. For a moment, Adrian felt something inside him stir — not envy, but longing. He wanted to feel that kind of warmth again, to belong, to laugh without the weight of survival pressing on his chest.
When he finished, the heaviness in his stomach wasn't just food; it was hope, solid and grounding. He left the bakery with half the loaf wrapped in paper under his arm. The world outside was still harsh, the debts still waiting, the loneliness still real.
But now, Adrian had a guide, a plan, and, for the first time in a long time, a reason to keep walking.
That night, as he lay on his thin mattress, the System's quiet words echoed in his mind:
[Small steps lead to greater journeys.]
Adrian smiled in the dark, clutching the bread like a treasure. Maybe tomorrow, he thought, he would start learning how to live again.