I Don't Need To Log Out

"Can you help me?" she asked.

The blonde haired and blue-eyed man blinked, startled. He had long since stopped reacting to people's stares—they had always watched him, both here and in his own galaxy.

But this was different.

She wasn't just watching. She was speaking to him.

The shock was so great that he instinctively looked around, as if expecting someone else to be there.

The girl chuckled, her smile growing even warmer. "I'm talking to you. There's no one else."

He opened his mouth to respond but faltered.

It had been too long since he had last spoken. The last time was decades ago, when he had learned the language of one of the native races.

His throat was dry. His voice, rusty.

He coughed, grabbed a nearby cup of water—something he no longer needed but kept out of habit—and took a slow sip.

Finally, he managed to speak.

"What do you need?"

The girl's eyes lit up.

"I failed to buy lettuce this week," the girl admitted sheepishly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Can I buy one from you? Ah, but I don't have any money. In return, I can give you half of my food."

The man blinked.

"Huh?"

Lettuce? That was it?

He had expected something else—perhaps a request for protection, training, or even a favor that would take him beyond this quiet life. But lettuce?

Unbeknownst to him, the girl had been watching him for ten years.

It wasn't entirely true to say he didn't know—he was aware of the gazes that followed him.

So many people had looked at him throughout his life that, at some point, he had simply stopped noticing. Their stares blended into the background, meaningless and insignificant.

And yet, this girl had been watching him every day.

"I know you like farming," she continued, a bit hesitant now. "And I saw that you had a lettuce harvest this year. Since I lost my parents in the war, I don't have any money to buy from you or the market."

For a moment, the man simply stared at her. Then, without a word, he rose from his chair, disappeared inside his home, and returned carrying a crate full of fresh lettuce.

"Take them," he said flatly. "I don't eat, so you don't have to share your food with me."

The girl's eyes widened, shimmering with excitement. "Ah, that's not possible! Since I'm buying this from you, I need to pay the price."

"I told you, I don't need food," he repeated. "So don't waste yours on me."

"But—"

"No buts. Take it and go."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but the man had already turned away, leaving her with no choice.

Huffing quietly, she bent down, grabbed the crate, and started dragging it along the ground, her small frame unable to lift it properly.

The man watched her struggle for a second, then sighed and went back to his seat.

***

The next evening, just as the sky began turning shades of orange and violet, the girl returned.

She was holding a pot, steam rising from its lid.

"Here you go!" she said, grinning.

The man raised an eyebrow. "What is this?"

"Food."

"I told you, I don't need it."

"I know," she said matter-of-factly. "But I'm not a beggar. I need to pay for my food. So, I'll share my meals with you until I've repaid the lettuce you gave me."

The man exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Sigh..." He could have refused again, but something told him it wouldn't work.

"Do you have tableware, or should I bring some?" she asked, unfazed by his reluctance.

"They're inside," he muttered.

"Okay! Wait here."

She dashed inside before he could say anything else and returned moments later with two sets of tableware.

"Are you eating here too?" the man asked, startled by her boldness.

"Isn't it better when you eat together?" she replied with a smile, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The man had no response to that.

So, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he ate.

The food was tasteless. A thin, watery soup with a strange texture. It had no spices, no depth—just warmth sliding down his throat.

And yet, by the time he looked down again, his bowl was empty.

He glanced at the pot, seeing there was still more inside. He didn't want to ask for another serving. He wouldn't ask.

The girl, meanwhile, slowly finished her own share, savoring each spoonful. When she was done, she placed her bowl down and stretched.

"Wow, that was tasty," she said, sighing in satisfaction. "Your lettuces taste great."

The man didn't answer. His mind was still on the soup.

After a moment, she stood up. "Alright, I'm going now. I'll come back in the morning to get the pot—and again in the evening for dinner."

He frowned slightly. "Are you leaving this here?"

The food in that pot was probably the only meal she had.

"Don't worry," she said, turning to leave. "I eat only one meal a day."

And with that, she walked away.

***

The next morning, the girl returned.

As soon as she stepped into the garden, her eyes landed on the pot. It was empty.

She smiled.

The man, however, did not look at her.

Without a word, she walked over, picked up the pot, and cradled it in her arms.

"I'll be back later," she said cheerfully.

Then, just like that, she turned and left.

The man remained seated, silent as he watched her walk away.

He had nothing to say. Or rather, he didn't know what to say.

Even after she disappeared down the road, he kept staring for a moment longer.

Then, without giving it much thought, he stood up.

The garden was quiet. The house was empty.

He decided to go to the town market.

It had been a while since he'd bothered buying anything new, but today, for some reason, he felt like planting something different.

***

That evening, the same thing happened.

The girl arrived with the same thin, tasteless soup. And once again, before he even realized it, his bowl was empty.

She left the pot behind this time.

And so, the cycle continued.

Day after day, she returned.

Every morning, she took the empty pot. Every evening, she filled it with soup. And every night, he ate without thinking, without questioning.

Until, on the twentieth day—the exact number of lettuces he had given her—something changed.

The girl arrived as usual, but this time, the garden looked different.

Two wooden crates sat near the edge of his land.

One was filled with fresh, leafy lettuces. The other held crisp, earthy carrots.

She blinked in surprise. "What are these?"

The man, standing nearby, barely spared her a glance. "Extra. I was planning to sell them."

"Is that so?" Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Then… would you like to sell them to me? Though I still can't pay you. I can only share my food."

"Whatever," the man muttered.

And just like that, their trade continued.

The next evening, when she arrived with the usual pot, something was different.

The same soup. The same thin texture.

But this time, when he took a sip—

It had a little more flavor.

Was it the carrot? He didn't know. Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire