3

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding out my hands. "Open status! Storage! Inventory!"

Nothing.

Just the quiet hum of my computer fan and the sound of a passing car outside.

"Fuck!" I groaned, sinking back into my chair. "No magic, no dimensional space, no money... Wait, what about crypto?"

I frantically began typing on my keyboard. If I could just remember which coins skyrocketed over the next twelve months, maybe I could trade my way to a fortune!

But as I scrolled through trading charts, my heart sank again. I had been a communications major, not a finance bro. I knew Bitcoin went up, but I had zero capital to start with, and I didn't know the exact daily pump-and-dump dates. Relying purely on crypto was too risky and too slow.

And then, another terrifying thought struck me.

Where did the virus even come from in the first place? In my past life, nobody knew. It was just suddenly there—one day the air tasted faintly metallic, people started coughing up gray ash, and within forty-eight hours, the dead were walking.

Was it a lab leak? A meteor? A biological attack? If I didn't even know the cause, how could I truly prevent it?

Panic began to constrict my throat again. I was running out of light, running out of time, trapped in the same broke, powerless body...

Then, my stomach let out a strange, loud GURGLE.

It wasn't a hunger pang. It was a deep, rhythmic vibration, pulsing right below my ribs.

My eyes slowly drifted away from the laptop screen and landed on the edge of my wooden desk. Right at the corner, where the veneer was chipped, sat my heavy metal desk lamp, and right beside it, the small iron paperweight I had bitten earlier.

Wait.

I reached out and picked up the paperweight.

I stared at it. Then I blinked.

The chunk of solid iron where my teeth had sunk in four hours ago... wasn't jagged anymore. The metallic rust that had coated the surface was completely gone. In fact, the spot where I had bitten down was now polished, mirror-bright, and smooth as silk, glowing with a pristine, brand-new sheen.

I swallowed hard, a strange, crazy thought firing through my brain.

I looked down at my stomach, then back at the iron weight.

"...No way," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock, confusion, and a sudden, electrifying spark of hope. "No fucking way."

"Holy shit," I whispered, staring at the paperweight. "Is this my cheat skill? Did I just... regenerate something I ate?"

I began pacing my room like a madwoman, my brain firing on all cylinders. In every single web novel I’d ever binged during late-night study sessions, regressed protagonists got bad-ass dimensional spaces, fiery magic, or cool floating blue screens. Me? My stomach just turned into a cosmic recycling plant.

Oh, Jesus.

Look, I knew I sounded absolutely unhinged. But what did a broke, desperate twenty-year-old with three hundred and sixty-five days to stop the literal apocalypse have to lose? Sanity? That ship sailed the second I woke up in 2025.

Driven by equal parts pure instinct, raw desperation, and a slight touch of psychotic curiosity, I dove into the back of my closet. I dragged out my old middle-school memory box and rummaged through the clutter until my fingers wrapped around it: my ancient, pristine relic of a Nokia 3310. The legendary, indestructible brick.

"Okay, Adelle. Moment of truth," I muttered, holding the solid block of plastic and metal to my mouth. "If I crack my molars, I’m suing the universe."

I opened wide and took a bite.

I braced for the agonizing sound of shattering teeth, but... nothing happened. In fact, my teeth sliced through the rock-solid phone like it was warm, room-temperature butter.

"Eww, gross, god, the taste!" I sputtered, gagging as the flavor of oxidized battery acid, stale pocket lint, and ten-year-old plastic hit my tongue.

Yet, weirdly enough, my jaw kept moving on autopilot. Nom. Nom. Crunch. I swallowed the first chunk. Then another. It didn't feel like swallowing glass or metal; it slid down my throat like a greasy, metallic marshmallow. Within two minutes, the entire indestructible brick was sitting in my gut.

I stood there in the middle of my bedroom, panting, wiping plastic dust off my lips.

"Jesus Christ... am I actually crazy? Am I going to die of heavy metal poisoning before the zombies even get here?"

Then, my stomach hit the absolute brakes.

A deep, violent heat churned deep in my abdomen. It wasn't a stomachache—it was a full-blown digestive engine revving up to maximum RPMs. My throat tightened. A sudden, violent heave surged upward from my chest.

"Oh, gross, gross, ewww!"

I fell to my knees, gagging, and spewed a mouthful of saliva, stomach acid, and bright blinding light onto the hardwood floor. “What the actual fuck is that?”

A heavy, metallic thud echoed through the quiet bedroom.

I lay on all fours, gasping for air, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. "Ugh, disgusting..."

I blinked through my watery eyes and looked down. Sitting in the middle of a puddle of my own drool was a phone. But it wasn't my scratched-up, blue plastic middle-school Nokia.

It was a brand-new, limited-edition 24-Karat Solid Gold Nokia 3310, gleaming so brightly under my ceiling light that it practically screamed expensive.

“Jesus!” I muttered and stared at the sparkling chunk of pure gold on my floor. Then I looked at my stomach. Then back at the phone.

"What the absolute fuck?!" I wheezed, grabbing my hair. "I ate a dusty piece of junk plastic, and my stomach digested it into a luxury flex?!"

I picked up the shimmering slab of metal off the floor, wiping off a stray thread of drool with my sleeve.

It wasn't plastic painted yellow. It was heavy. Cold, dense, pure-grade 24-karat solid gold. I powered it on, and the screen flickered to life with that iconic Nokia handshake animation, except the hands on the screen looked like they belonged to a royalty catalog.

"Holy heavens above..." I whispered, my eyes bulging. "It actually works."

I immediately opened my laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. “Value of custom 24k solid gold vintage Nokia 3310.”

Search results popped up. Estimated collector's value: $10,000.

"TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?!" I nearly shrieked, slamming a hand over my mouth so Mom wouldn't think I was having a psychotic break upstairs. "For eating a piece of middle-school trash?!"

I didn't have time to go through official pawn shops that would ask for serial numbers and tax forms. I hopped onto an encrypted online marketplace, the kind of dark-web-adjacent forum where preppers, sketchy collectors, and shady rich folks bought weird flexes. I listed the golden brick with three photos and a flat price tag.

Three minutes. It took three freaking minutes for a buyer notification to pop up.

User [D_D1amond]: I’ll take it. Double your asking price if I can pick it up within the hour.

"Twenty grand?!" I gasped. "Who is this guy, Santa Claus with a shady fetish?!"

I dropped my phone number in the chat. Not even three seconds later, my cracked smartphone blasted its ringtone, scaring the absolute crap out of me. I snatched it up with trembling hands.

"H-hello?" I stammered, sweating bullets.

"Miss Spears?" a deep, smooth, ridiculously rich voice came through the speaker. It sounded vaguely familiar—like a voice I’d heard on a news broadcast or in a dark, blood-soaked alleyway, but I couldn't quite place it through the static. "I saw your listing. I happen to collect... absurdly rare trinkets. Where can we meet?"

"The tea shop on 4th Street," I blurted out. "In forty minutes."

"Delightful. See you soon." Click.

"Okay. Okay! We have a deal!" I squealed, doing a little silent happy-dance on my rug. But my brain was already spiraling into overdrive.

While waiting for the forty minutes to pass, I decided to science the absolute shit out of my stomach. I needed data. I needed rules for my new gastric superpower.

I grabbed a cheap, plastic China-made bracelet off my dresser, something I bought for three bucks at a mall kiosk years ago, and shoved the whole thing into my mouth.

Crunch, then I closed my eyes and swallowed, then I freaking heave, because dear God heaven the taste…

BLEAH.

Out popped a drop-dead gorgeous solid silver bracelet encrusted with genuine rubies and diamonds.

"HOLY SHIT!" I yelled at the floor.

My inner monologue was practically screaming at me: Adelle, you absolute genius, your stomach is an alchemical furnace!

So yeah, now I know that… small bite: The item regenerates back into its original, pristine, factory-new condition. Swallow the whole damn thing: The universe loses its mind and upgrades it into a ridiculously opulent, ultra-premium flex item!

I stared at my wooden study desk. Wait... if I swallow this whole table, will I vomit out a full-sized 24K gold dining set?!

I paused, visualising myself unhinging my jaw like a python in front of my mother, swallowing a mahogany desk, and throwing up a golden banquet table into the living room.

No. Bad Adelle. First of all, gross. Second of all, how the hell would I explain a golden table to the IRS? Small items first, you greedy gremlin!

My eyes slowly locked onto the cheap, wired computer mouse sitting on my mousepad.

"Forgive me, logitech," I whispered.

I unplugged it, popped the plastic mouse into my mouth like a giant jawbreaker, chewed it down into a smooth, marshmallowy blob, and swallowed it.

Five seconds later: I began questioning my life as gurgled...and heave again and again!...

Then…

Something clank on the floor.

I wiped my mouth and stared down at the floor.

Lying in front of me was a solid gold, diamond-encrusted wireless gaming mouse.

"WTF?!" I snorted, cracking up into hysterical laughter. "I’m about to fund a multi-million-dollar apocalypse bunker by eating e-waste and throwing up luxury tech accessories! Take that, student loans!"

Then my mom knocked on my door and told me to go to the grocery store to buy some milk and sugar.

"Got it, Mom! I'll pick them up on my way back!" I called out, pulling my favorite oversized hoodie over my head and kicking on my sneakers.

Just before heading out, I ran two final tests to verify the rules of my bizarre new digestion engine.

First, I took a small bite out of an old, fraying leather purse in my closet. A second later, a soft pop echoed beside me, and a brand-new, factory-fresh version of the exact same purse materialized on my bed, crisp and smelling like real leather.

OMG! No shopping needed?

Next, I pulled an old, moldy cookie from the back of my snack drawer—green fur and all. I shuddered, closed my eyes, and took a tiny bite.

“OH GOD! Why am I even doing this?” The second my teeth sank in, the mold vanished, turning into a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven.

Rule 1 confirmed: Small bite = original item restored brand-new.

Rule 2 confirmed: Swallow whole = luxury flex upgrade.

I smirked.

Then my smartphone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text from Julian:

Julian: Adelle? Babe? Why aren't you replying? Are you ignoring me? Chloe said you didn't answer her either.

I rolled my eyes so hard. I swiped the notification away without replying, shoved the phone into my pocket, and grabbed the gold Nokia and the ruby-diamond bracelet to stash in my hoodie pocket.

"I'm heading out now, Mom!"

"Take care, sweetie! Don't forget the sugar, milk, and apples—I'm making apple pie for dinner!" she called back from the kitchen, her voice light and cheerful.

A warm pang hit my chest. "I won't forget. Love you!"