Kayday POV

My gamer self, was a bit disappointed. I was expecting a zombie apocalypse, but all I got was a level 1 version of it—a spreading flu-like virus, missing all the gore, gunfire, chase scenes, and other sorts of actions. Not that I am ready for it. I'm so out of shape, barely breathing after three flights of stairs. Zombieland movies emphasize countless times how cardio really comes in handy when you're running from flesh-eating rabid zombies—who see you as nothing but a dinner getting away. I hated exercise as much as Fat Amy in Pitch Perfect hated it. So, I might as well be thankful; it's not yet the end of the world. But sometimes, I would like to daydream as some badass female heroine in an apocalyptic world.

The other day, the Republic of South Korea announced a one-month total lockdown, canceling all work, school, and social gatherings and advising people to stay at home to prevent the spread of the global pandemic. Not that I was really aware of it; I barely watch the news. My agent Jiyeon, and probably my only friend, came barging into my apartment a day after the lockdown announcement, with four bags full of groceries and keys barely hanging on her forefinger.

"Thanks for the help," she said, grunting while placing the bags on the kitchen counter. I was shocked at the sudden intrusion; it's not yet Wednesday. She only visits me once a week to check how I'm doing with my fourth novel and perhaps to see if there's any minuscule sign of improvement in my grumpy attitude. And I was so amused; how was she able to carry all those bags? She's tall but still skinny. I guess I was so amused that I didn't even think I should help.

"You didn't ask," I managed to reason despite a spoon hanging in my mouth full of peanut butter. "Well, if you try to be more sensitive to social cues, you might notice I was in need of help the moment I stepped on your doormat," she sighed, exasperated. Barely one minute of dealing with me, and she's already annoyed. Glad I never fail to disappoint my only friend.

She proceeded to check my refrigerator and cupboards, which were almost empty apart from a pack of pasta, a bag of cereal, and my oh-so-holy half-empty jar of peanut butter. "Have you ever heard of grocery shopping, Dayoung-ah?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I was about to visit one down the block; you just beat me to it." Which wasn't a lie; I was really planning on doing my groceries, but perhaps later than planned, as I'm freaking good at procrastination.

I was aware of my non-existent food supply, except for my balcony garden, which I use to grow some herbs and veggies—one of the very few responsible things associated with me, as Jiyeon put it.

"Well, good luck with that; the stores are packed, and the grocery shelves down the block are almost empty. You are lucky I was friends with a mini-mart owner in my neighborhood; I was delivered all these groceries." This earned a curious look from me.

"Oh my God K, the world has gone to , only to find you making out with a spoonful of peanut butter, oblivious to the entire happening." She got her phone from her back pocket, typed away, and showed me some news regarding the global pandemic. Her expression reminded me of how my mother looked at me back when I was a child.

Her expression brought back memories of my mother's disappointed gaze from my childhood. I'd be engrossed in cartoons, blaring the volume, and munching on caramel popcorn—oblivious to the world, just like today. Not much has changed.

I was once busy watching TV when my mother barged in, panicking and flipping off our main electricity breaker. Shouting at me with disappointment in her eyes, she questioned how I failed to notice our neighbor's house ablaze, billowing smoke and flames. She had rushed home early from work upon hearing the news, and she was right to check on me. The fire could have easily spread through the electrical conductors, turning our house into the next casualty. I was home alone, my father out of town fetching my younger siblings from my grandmother's place as the school break had come to an end.

I felt ashamed of myself; my mother had a right to be disappointed in me on that occasion. But after then, I've never seen a much different expression on her face every time she looked at me. Despite doing my best, I was never good enough. Until I stopped seeking her approval. When I reached college, my mother wanted me to be a doctor, as both her parents were, but she could not pursue it because she became pregnant with me before her first year in medical school. She wanted me to continue her unattained dreams, as if it were my fault; she and my father  couldn't keep it in their pants until she finished medicine.

And boy was she disappointed when I pursued my dream of being a writer. She reasoned that it's a hobby, not a career, and that I lack enough creativity to publish a story. Well, I wasn't aiming to become J.K. Rowling level of a writer, but it was my dream, and I couldn't think of any better career than it. She threatened not to support my studies if I pursued what I wanted, slinging along Appa on her plans. Never was I ever disappointed with my father for not standing up for me; we were close; he was my best friend then. Heartbroken, I left home at the young age of 19 and tried my luck in Seoul. My father's first cousin, Jung Woo-unnie (known in the fashion industry as Monika Shin), was kind enough to let me stay with her.

Jung Woo unnie, a big shot in the Korean fashion scene, wanted to sponsor my education. Despite her kind offer, my stubborn self waved it off. I knew both her and my father were pulling strings behind the scenes. Unnie's pretty strong-willed, but my determination won the day. I had something to prove, still had some lingering anger toward Appa, and, well, I was just grateful she let me crash at her place. Eventually, she caved and let me do things m