Ark Simulator, don't I have no physical form?

His voice seemed to possess a strange power, like the gentlest lullaby. Ayjafjalla's tense nerves gradually relaxed under the soothing and convincing sound. Her eyelids grew heavier, and her chaotic thoughts and fears, like the receding tide, slowly faded away. Before completely sinking into darkness, she vaguely thought one last time: this voice named Suri, residing in her mind… perhaps, it really was sent by heaven (or something else) to help her.

She fell asleep. Her breathing gradually became steady and long, and a tear still clung to the corner of her eye, but her tightly furrowed brows had relaxed slightly.

In this sea of ​​consciousness, which had returned to calm and was filled only with the sound of the girl's even breathing, Su Rui's "consciousness" also fell into a state similar to "contemplation".

Helping Eyjafjallajökull deal with the current property tax crisis was only the first step. A one-year extension? He knew that was practically a pipe dream. The Colombian bureaucracy and financial institutions wouldn't be so lenient with the underage daughter of a missing archaeologist. The "legal grounds" he presented were more based on logical deduction and simulations of similar social rules, their authenticity and effectiveness questionable. The real purpose was to secure a buffer period through formal appeals and reasoned questioning, to attract the attention of relevant departments, and perhaps trigger some investigations or temporary relief procedures for special circumstances. Even a delay of a few months would be a precious breathing space.

The key issue is money. Without a stable source of income, everything else is meaningless. Eyjafjalla is too young to work formally, and the savings left by her parents (even if there are any, they are probably limited) won't last long, let alone cover various bills. He needs to find a way for Eyjafjalla to generate a stable income in the short term without excessively affecting her studies and health, while also being able to address her potential interest in geology and volcanology due to her parents' research (as evidenced by her fragmented memories and related books in her room)...

Suri's "consciousness" rapidly "browsed" through Eyjafjalla's fragmented memories. Colombia, a country renowned for its technology, commerce, and mobile city-states. Cumberland County, seemingly a county with a decent academic atmosphere, boasting several universities and research institutes. Eyjafjalla's parents were independent archaeologists, collaborating with numerous universities and museums; their home contained a vast collection of professional books, copies of academic papers, and some basic mineral and fossil specimens…

A vague plan began to take shape in Suri's "consciousness." Perhaps, she could utilize Eyjafjalla's existing knowledge (even if only acquired through exposure) and the "resources" left by her parents to do something...

But all of this will have to wait until tomorrow, after that crucial phone call is dealt with.

The first rays of pale morning light struggled to penetrate the thin mist characteristic of Cumberland, thick with industrial dust and dampness, and sparingly spilled into the small apartment. The chill of the night still lingered in the room, along with an atmosphere of emptiness and desolation.

Eyjafjalla awoke to a familiar, nauseating stomachache mixed with anxiety and hunger. She groggily opened her eyes, a few dried tear stains still clinging to her pink eyelashes. Before her lay the half-empty bed and the gloomy, depressing sky outside the window.

A feeling of despair and helplessness surged into her heart again like an icy tide. But this time, just as that familiar, almost overwhelming panic was about to take over her entire being, a calm and clear voice, like the morning light breaking through the clouds, suddenly rang in her mind:

"Awake? How are you feeling?"

It's Su Rui.

Eyjafjalla froze for a few seconds, then sat bolt upright, her hand instinctively gripping the blanket to her chest. Memories of last night flooded back like a tide—the voice in her mind, the letter of appeal she had written herself, and that promise… none of it was a dream.

"Su...Su Rui?" she asked softly, with a hint of uncertainty and tentativeness in her voice.

"It's me." Su Rui's voice was still steady, without a trace of drowsiness from just waking up. "It's still early, but we need to start preparing. Go wash up first and wake yourself up. Then, deal with that phone call."

The mention of the phone made Eyjafjalla's stomach clench again, but compared to the pure fear of last night, there seemed to be a hint of... determination to do it, and a reliance on Suri's inexplicable faith.

She got out of bed as instructed, her bare feet shivering as she stepped onto the cold floor. After a quick wash, the icy water completely sobered her up. She changed into her cleanest and tidiest clothes (a slightly worn pale yellow sweater and dark trousers), carefully combing her long pink hair, even though the ends were dry from malnutrition and worry.

Then she walked to the table piled high with papers. The appeal letter, sealed in an envelope, and the note with a phone number next to it, lay there quietly, like soldiers awaiting inspection.

Eyjafjalla picked up the phone receiver, her fingers turning slightly white from the pressure. She stared at the numbers, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

“Don’t be nervous, Eyjafjalla,” Suri’s voice rang out promptly, carrying a strange, reassuring quality. “Remember what I said. You’re not begging; you’re exercising your rights, stating your situation, and raising reasonable questions and demands. Speak calmly, clearly, and articulately. If the other party is rude or dismissive, don’t argue. End the call politely. We still have registered mail and formal channels for appeals. Understand?”

“I…I understand,” Eyjafjalla repeated softly, as if encouraging herself. Following Suri’s instructions, she first dialed the number of the bank’s tax processing department on the overdue payment notice.

"Beep-beep-"

With each ring of the caller ID, Eyjafjalla's heart raced faster. Just as she was about to hang up, the call was answered.

"Hello, this is the Cumberland County Bank Tax Processing Center, employee number 743. How can I help you?" A slightly formulaic, somewhat impatient female voice came through.

Eyjafjalla felt as if something was blocking her throat; she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Speak, Eyjafjalla.” Suri’s voice rang in her mind like the most concise command. “Give me your name, property address, and tax invoice number, and then explain that you want to file a complaint and inquiry regarding this overdue payment notice.”

Volume 19, page 1272: If they don't understand, they won't remind them.

Eyjafjalla bit her tongue hard, the pain temporarily quelling the dryness in her throat. "H-hello," her voice trembled slightly, but she tried to remain clear, "My name is Eyjafjalla, and I live in apartment 203, Block B, 47 Oak Street. I received a property tax overdue notice, numbered CT-7842-A9, and I would like to file a complaint and ask some questions."

The woman on the other end of the phone paused, seemingly checking her system. Then, her tone became more formal, even carrying a hint of barely perceptible disdain: "Ms. Eyjafjalla, regarding tax invoice CT-7842-A9, the payment is overdue. If you have any questions about the amount, we suggest you arrange payment as soon as possible to avoid further late fees and potential legal proceedings. Regarding the appeal process, you need to submit written materials to..."

“I have prepared a written appeal, which I will send by registered mail today.” Following Suri’s previous instructions, Eyjafjalla interrupted the other party’s likely prepared, evasive answers, trying to keep her tone calm. “Before calling, I would like to clarify a few key issues with your department. First, what is the basis for calculating the penalty amount stated on this tax bill? Does it comply with the Fair Collection Act’s provisions regarding penalty transparency? Second, the clauses cited on the tax bill seem more applicable to commercial property valuations, while my property is clearly for owner-occupancy. Is there an error in the application of these provisions? Third, my situation is special. My parents, who are also the legal owners of the property, are currently missing, and I am the only minor associated person. In this situation, does your department have any special procedures or remedies for such unforeseen circumstances? For example, an application for an extension of tax payment?”

Eyjafjalla spoke slowly, but each question was clear, concise, and to the point. She didn't whine or plead; she simply stated the facts calmly, cited possible regulations (though she herself only vaguely understood them), and made her demands. This completely exceeded the clerk's expectations of a "crying orphan."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, with only the faint sounds of papers turning and keyboard typing. Clearly, the other party was rapidly retrieving relevant information from their system, perhaps also evaluating this call, which sounded well-organized and even somewhat "professional" inquiring.

“…Ms. Eyjafjalla, I understand your situation.” When the female voice spoke again, although her tone was still not exactly warm, at least the slight disdain was gone, and she became slightly more formal. “Regarding the questions you mentioned, I need to check more detailed files and consult with the supervisor. As for your parents' disappearance, are there any official reports from the relevant authorities?”

“I have a missing person report receipt, number MP-L-2098-44, issued by the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Office, Division 3. A copy will be sent along with my complaint letter,” Ayjafjalla answered smoothly. These were key pieces of information that Suri had told her to memorize in advance.

"Okay, I've noted it down." The female voice seemed to tap the keyboard a few more times. "Regarding your extension request, it requires strict review and approval from superiors. Generally speaking, for special cases involving minors and missing guardians, we do have corresponding assessment mechanisms internally, but the process is complex, and there is a great deal of uncertainty as to whether it will be approved and for how long. I cannot give you any guarantees."

“I understand the complexity of the process,” Eyjafjalla responded, following Suri’s suggestion. “I simply wish to formally submit my application and hope that your department, after reviewing my written materials and taking into account my special circumstances, will consider humanitarian factors. My core request is that the compulsory collection process be suspended and that I be given some buffer time until the matter is clearly resolved.”

“I have recorded your request and will forward it to the relevant reviewers,” the female voice said. “I suggest you send your written materials as soon as possible. While we are receiving your formal complaint and initiating the review process, the related collection actions will theoretically be suspended. However, please note that this does not mean that the tax will be exempted or indefinitely delayed; it still needs to be settled in the end.”

"Suspension of forced collection" is one of the best outcomes we can get right now. Ayjafjalla felt a wave of relief and quickly said, "Thank you. I'll send the materials as soon as possible."

“In addition,” the woman’s voice added, her tone seemingly softening slightly, “if you are indeed experiencing severe financial difficulties, you can also try contacting the county’s social services department to inquire about any temporary assistance programs for minors. Although it may be a drop in the bucket, it might alleviate some of the financial burden. Best of luck.”

The phone hangs up.

Eyjafjalla held the receiver, stunned for a long while, before slowly placing it back on the landline. Her palms were covered in cold sweat, and her back was also covered in a thin layer of sweat, but the frantic beating of her heart gradually calmed down.

She did it. She didn't cry, she didn't stammer, she clearly said everything she needed to say, and even... seemed to slightly intimidate (or perhaps slightly intimidate) the initially impatient clerk?

“Well done, Eyjafjalla,” Suri’s voice rang out, carrying a barely perceptible hint of approval. “Calm, organized, and you’ve got the key points covered. ‘Suspending forced collection’ is a good start, buying us valuable time. Now, go mail the letter, and then we’ll talk about the next steps.”

Eyjafjalla's lips curled upwards uncontrollably, a mixture of accomplishment, relief, and lingering fear making her eyes slightly moist. She nodded vigorously, picked up the thick envelope on the table containing the appeal letter and "attachments," carefully affixed the stamp, and then cautiously placed it into her schoolbag.

The mailing process went smoothly. The post office worker glanced at her thick registered letter, then at her youthful yet composed face, and asked no further questions. The moment Eyjafjalla received the return receipt, she felt as if the heavy weight that had been pressing on her chest had been lifted a crack.

When she returned to that cold, empty apartment, it was already past nine in the morning. The sunlight had slightly dispersed the fog, but the room still lacked warmth. The feeling of hunger returned clearly.

“Now, Eyjafjalla,” Suri’s voice rang out again, with an unquestionable, almost commanding tone, “your first priority is to feed yourself. What’s left to eat in the kitchen?”

Eyjafjalla walked into the small, shabby kitchen and opened the almost empty refrigerator. Inside were only half a carton of milk that was about to expire, two eggs, a small piece of dry bread, and a few packets of the cheapest instant cereal. In the cupboard were half a bag of pasta and a bottle of olive oil that was almost empty, and there were very few seasonings left.

Volume 19, page 1273: For me, none of these are problems.

"Fry an egg, toast some bread, and heat up a cup of milk," Suri said simply. "Let's eat first. We can talk about the money-making plan while we eat."

Ayya ​​Fara did as she was told. Although she was a little clumsy (her parents rarely let her cook at home), with Suri's simple and clear instructions, she quickly prepared a very simple breakfast: eggs fried until the edges were slightly browned, crispy toast, and a cup of steaming milk.

As she sat at the table, taking small bites of her simple breakfast, a strange sense of peace washed over her. Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, falling onto the table and illuminating the tiny dust particles dancing in the air. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of her chewing and the peaceful voice in her mind.

“Regarding making money,” Suri’s voice rang out unhurriedly, as if discussing the weather, “in the short term, you need a stable income that won’t attract too much attention, enough to cover basic living expenses and necessary bills. In the long term, you need a plan that can support you through your studies and perhaps even allow you to continue your parents’ research interests.”

Eyjafjalla stopped chewing and listened attentively. Her pink eyes were filled with focus and a hint of barely perceptible anticipation.

“Your parents probably didn’t leave much cash, and we can’t touch it for now; we need to keep it for emergencies,” Su Rui analyzed. “With your age and status, it would be difficult to find a legal and reasonably paid job, and it would take up a lot of your study time, so it wouldn’t be worth it. As for social welfare, as the clerk said, it’s a drop in the ocean, and the process is complicated, which may expose your predicament and attract unnecessary attention or trouble.”

Eyjafjalla's brow furrowed slightly. She knew all of this, or at least vaguely sensed it.

“So, we need a more… ‘smarter’ approach.” Suri paused, as if making a final decision, “a way that can utilize your existing resources (though not many), leverage your ‘information’ advantage, and be relatively discreet.”

"Information advantage?" Eyjafjalla was puzzled. What "information advantage" could a minor like her, who hadn't even graduated high school, whose parents were missing, and who was almost completely out of touch with society, possibly have?

“To be precise, it’s my ‘information’ advantage,” Su Rui calmly corrected. “I can… perceive and analyze subtle fluctuations and probabilistic trends in the financial market that are difficult for ordinary people to grasp quickly.”

Eyjafjalla's hand, holding the bread, froze in mid-air. Financial markets? Stocks? Futures? These terms were as distant as another world to her. She had only heard snippets of them occasionally when her parents discussed economic news.

"You...you mean, stock trading?" Ayjafjalla's voice was filled with disbelief. This was insane! It was a game for the rich, and incredibly risky; she'd heard many people had lost everything.

“That’s one way to understand it, but more accurately, it’s about engaging in short-term operations with extremely low risk and stable but limited returns.” Su Rui’s voice remained calm, as if stating a mathematical theorem. “Using some of my… special ‘sensory’ abilities, we’ll screen out stocks that are almost certain to see a slight increase within a few days. You’ll buy them with the small amount of money you have available, and sell them immediately once the expected increase is reached. We don’t pursue exorbitant profits; we only earn enough to cover your basic monthly expenses. Little by little, it adds up to a steady stream.”

"But... how is that possible?" Eyjafjalla felt her brain couldn't keep up. "Isn't the stock market a casino? How can you be sure which stock will go up?"

“For the vast majority of people, it is indeed a game of probability, or even a game of information asymmetry.” Su Rui did not directly explain how he “perceives” it, as that involves the mysteries of his own existence and cannot and need not be explained in detail to Eyjafjalla. “But for me, the short-term trend of certain types of stocks, based on publicly available information but not fully digested by the market, or with a very short-term technical adjustment need, is much more certain than most people imagine. Of course, it’s not 100%, but within the scope that I can ‘see’ clearly, the probability of error is so low that it can be ignored.”

He paused, then added, "Moreover, we only do the safest part. No leverage, no chasing highs, no greed, and we take profits when we see them. Each transaction only uses a portion of your living expenses. Even if there is a very small chance of unexpected loss, it will be within your acceptable range and won't cripple you. Our goal is simply to help you get out of your current survival crisis and have room to breathe to plan for the future, not to make you rich overnight."

Eyjafjalla listened, stunned, forgetting to eat the bread in her hand. Suri's words sounded both like a fantasy and strangely logical. In particular, his emphasis on "not being greedy," "only seeking basic expenses," and "extremely low risk" struck a chord with her deepest concern—she couldn't afford to lose, not even a single penny.

"But... what about the start-up capital?" Eyjafjalla asked the most practical question. "I... I might only have a little pocket money, and what my parents left me... I don't know exactly how much, but it's definitely not much. Is that enough?"

“You don’t need much start-up capital,” Suri replied. “A few hundred Colombian dollars, or even less, is fine to get started. The key is the success rate and capital utilization. We can try it once or twice with the smallest amount first, so you can familiarize yourself with the process and verify my judgment. If your parents have left a bank account and you know the password or have the relevant documents to apply for inquiries, apply for supplementary cards, or online banking services, that would be even better. If not, we’ll use the cash you have on hand to open a basic account at the stock exchange that allows small transactions. I will explain these procedures to you step by step.”

Eyjafjalla lowered her head, looking at the cold fried eggs on the plate, then at the still gray sky outside the window, which seemed to peek through with a sliver of light. Her heart was filled with immense uncertainty, and a faint flame of hope—ignited by this insane plan.

This mysterious being named Su Rui, residing in her mind, not only helped her save her house from being repossessed, but has now also proposed a seemingly absurd yet logically sound money-making plan...

Should she believe him?

Eyjafjalla remained silent for a long time. Suri didn't urge her, but simply waited quietly for her decision.

Finally, Eyjafjalla picked up the glass of milk that had cooled down and took a big gulp. The warm liquid slid down her throat, bringing a sense of comfort. She looked up, and although unease still lingered in her pink eyes, there was an even stronger light of determination.

Volume 19, Chapter 1274: Strange Prices

"What...what do I need to do?" she asked softly, her voice low but unusually clear.

Upon hearing this, a faint, almost gratifying, feeling seemed to flicker through Su Rui's "consciousness".

“First,” Suri’s voice held a steady, planning quality, “finish your breakfast. Then, we’ll sort things out and see how much usable ‘resource’ your parents left behind. After that, we’ll discuss in detail how to take the first step into this ‘new game’.”

Eyjafjalla nodded and quickened her pace of breakfast. The fried eggs and bread, though simple, tasted different now. The sunlight outside seemed to finally pierce the fog, casting a small, clear patch of light on the dusty windowsill.

As she ate, she listened to Su Rui's calm and methodical narration in her mind: how to check an account, how to choose a brokerage firm, how to identify the most basic trading interface, and his core principles regarding "selecting targets" and "setting profit targets"...

Under Suri's guidance, Ayjafjalla meticulously searched through all the documents her parents had left behind and places where they might have hidden money. The result wasn't too bad, but it was certainly not optimistic. In a locked drawer compartment, she found a small stack of cash, totaling about five hundred Colombian dollars. There were also two bank cards, but her parents didn't seem to have written down the PINs. Ayjafjalla only remembered that her mother had used a combination of her birthday and house number to create some simple account PINs, but she couldn't be sure if they applied to these two bank accounts that appeared to be the main cards.

"Keep the cash safe for now, as emergency and start-up capital," Su Rui analyzed in Ayjafjalla's mind. "Don't touch the bank card for now. Once we're familiar with the basic procedures of stock trading and have a stable small income, we can try to inquire about and handle related business at the bank to avoid unnecessary attention due to frequent or abnormal operations. Right now, we need to solve a more basic problem—your body needs nutrition."

Eyjafjalla touched her somewhat flat stomach. Yesterday's emotional rollercoaster and the simple breakfast she'd only eaten had left her feeling noticeably hungry and weak. The little food she had in the fridge and cupboards wouldn't last more than a few days.

"Change into something warmer," Suri's voice was like that of a most considerate housekeeper. "Let's go to the neighborhood supermarket and buy some food. Your body is still developing; you can't rely solely on instant cereal and dry bread."

Eyjafjalla obediently changed into a thicker coat, casually tied her long pink hair up with an old rubber band, and put on a woolen hat to cover her tender horns (this was Suri's suggestion, to reduce unnecessary attention). Then she carefully divided the five hundred yuan in cash into two separate places, hiding most of it in a hidden pocket on her body and leaving only a small amount of change in her wallet.

Stepping out of the apartment building, the air was slightly damp and chilly, carrying a faint smell of smoke. Eyjafjalla's neighborhood was a lower-middle-class area in Cumberland County, but relatively safe. It lacked the chaos of the infamous slums, and the streets were fairly clean, though most of the buildings appeared somewhat old, and the pedestrians were generally dressed simply. This was why Suri had agreed to let her go out shopping alone—at least on the surface, the safety risks seemed manageable.

The neighborhood supermarket wasn't far, about a ten-minute walk away. It was a medium-sized chain supermarket with a somewhat faded sign and various promotional advertisements pasted on the glass door. Pushing open the door, a complex smell of cooked food, cleaning agents, and cheap air fresheners wafted out, accompanied by slightly noisy music and the sound of the cash register operating.

Eyjafjalla pushed a shopping cart and walked somewhat hesitantly between the shelves. It had been a long time since she'd been to a supermarket alone; she always came with her mother. The dazzling array of goods on the shelves no longer appeared to her as just food, but as price-labeled necessities for survival that required careful budgeting.

Suri's "perception" was like an invisible scanner, rapidly collecting information about this strange world through Eyjafjalla's eyes. The text on the product packaging, the price tags, and even some simple ingredient lists (if he "looked" carefully enough) were all quickly processed and analyzed in his consciousness, and combined with Eyjafjalla's memory fragments and physical condition (he could vaguely perceive the host's physiological state) to form a preliminary judgment.

“Let’s start with staple foods and basic ingredients.” Suri’s voice echoed in Eyjafjalla’s mind, guiding her. “Go check out the grains and pasta section.”

Eyjafjalla pushed her cart to the appropriate shelves. In the most prominent positions were various brightly colored, fancy-packaged instant cereals, puffed snacks, and bagged pasta. The prices were indeed very cheap; a large bag of cereal that would last a long time might only cost a few Colombian dollars. Next to it were bulk or simply packaged rice and flour, which were slightly more expensive, but still reasonably priced.

“You can take a small bag of rice and a pack of whole-wheat pasta,” Suri said. “But pay attention to the ingredient list and try to choose products with fewer additives. However…” He paused, seemingly with a hint of helplessness, “It might be difficult to find completely ‘clean’ products at this price point. Let’s solve the problem of availability first, and then consider optimization.”

Ayjafjalla did as instructed, taking a small bag of the cheapest rice and a relatively simple-looking bag of whole-wheat pasta into her shopping cart. Then, pushing the cart, she headed towards the refrigerated section, following Suri's directions.

The atmosphere here immediately changed. Prices on the shelves rose almost exponentially. Exquisitely packaged boxed milk and yogurt were several times more expensive than the large bottles of complex-ingrediented "flavored dairy drinks" on the outer shelves. What astonished Ayjafjalla (and Suri in her mind) even more were the vegetable and fresh meat sections.

A bunch of spinach that looked fairly fresh, but was definitely not much, was priced almost as much as three large bags of high-sugar cereal. A few ordinary-looking potatoes or onions were also priced hesitantly. And a small box of chicken breast or sliced ​​beef wrapped in plastic wrap was priced so high that Eyjafjalla instinctively withdrew her hand—it was almost a tenth of the cash she had on hand, and only enough for one or two meals.

“…” Suri was silent for a few seconds. Even with his relatively limited understanding of the economy of this era and the world (especially Colombia), he could intuitively feel the… irrationality of this price structure. High-sugar, high-fat, highly processed, low-nutritional-value but stimulating-tasting “junk food” was extremely cheap, while fresh, natural, and healthy vegetables, fruits, and high-quality protein were ridiculously expensive.

Volume 19, Chapter 1275: A Slight Compromise

This is practically using price to "guide" low-income people to choose unhealthy eating habits.

“Go take a look over there.” Suri’s voice remained calm, but Eyjafjalla seemed to sense a very faint, almost speechless, emotional fluctuation.

They circled around to the snacks and drinks section. The scene there was even more "spectacular." Large bags of potato chips, corn chips, chocolate bars, and sandwich cookies of all flavors were piled high, at ridiculously low prices. At the other end of the shelves were rows of carbonated drinks, fruit juices (most of which listed water and corn syrup as the first ingredient), and brightly colored "energy drinks," all at similarly cheap prices. There was even a dedicated "discount section," piled high with cream cakes, donuts, fried chicken nuggets, and frozen pizzas nearing their expiration dates, priced practically free.

Eyjafjalla's steps involuntarily slowed before the brightly packaged snacks and cakes, emitting an enticingly sweet aroma. Her throat bobbed. These were temptations hard for a child her age to resist, especially when money was tight and regular meals were a struggle. A small bag of potato chips could bring instant satiety and pleasure, and the price might not even buy a few lettuce leaves.

“Eyjafjalla,” Suri’s voice rang out at the right moment, interrupting her lingering gaze, “Take a look at the ingredient list of that bag of cream-filled cookies on your left.”

Eyjafjalla instinctively picked up the bag of cookies, turned it over, and looked at the long string of tiny words. "Wheat flour, white sugar, shortening, margarine, glucose syrup, flavoring, caramel color, potassium sorbate..." she read aloud, many of the terms completely unfamiliar to her.

“The key point,” Suri’s voice carried a calm, analytical quality, “is to look at the nutrition facts label, per 100 grams, the energy, fat, and especially the sugar content. Then compare that with the ingredients and nutrition facts of the whole wheat pasta bag next to it.”

Ayah Fala followed the comparison. Even though she didn't understand much about nutrition, she could visually see the alarmingly high energy, fat, and sugar content of cookies, and the relatively "cleaner" ingredients of pasta (although it also contained some additives) and its carbohydrate-based nutritional composition.

“High in sugar, high in fat, and high in calories, but besides providing quick but short-lived energy (which easily leads to rapid spikes and drops in blood sugar) and a bunch of additives that your body can’t metabolize and that may even be harmful, it has almost no other nutritional value,” Suri concluded. “Long-term consumption of these will cause you to gain weight quickly, have poor skin, lack energy, increase your risk of developing various diseases in the future, and create a dependence on sugar and unhealthy fats, making you even less willing to eat ‘healthy but expensive’ foods. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Eyjafjalla slowly lowered her hand holding the biscuit. Suri's words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing her craving for snacks and making her realize more clearly the cruelty of reality—in this place, eating healthily was a luxury.

"Then... what should I buy?" Eyjafjalla's voice was somewhat dejected. Pushing the cart, she looked at the expensive vegetables and meats in the refrigerated display case that she dared not buy, and then at the cheap but "toxic" temptations in the snack section, feeling powerless.

Suri paused for a moment, seemingly making quick calculations and weighing the options. Eyjafjalla had limited cash on hand, and her future income was uncertain, so she had to be very careful with her money.

“Listen, Eyjafjalla,” Suri’s voice rang out again, with an undeniable firmness, “You don’t need to worry too much about money. With me here, at least your basic, healthy diet won’t be a problem. We’ll buy some necessities today, and we also need a little ‘strategy’.”

"Strategy?" Eyjafjalla asked, puzzled.

“First, get a carton of eggs. Eggs are a good source of protein, relatively cheaper than meat, and can be prepared in many ways,” Suri instructed. “Then, get that bag of the cheapest carrots and onions. They may not be fresh, but they still have vitamins and fiber. Also, get a head of the cheapest cabbage or head of cabbage; they keep well. These are essential sources of vitamins and fiber.”

Ayjafjalla followed instructions and carefully placed the relatively inexpensive eggs, a small bag of carrots, two onions, and a somewhat shriveled-looking cabbage into her shopping cart. With each item she added, her heart clenched as she calculated how much money she had spent.

"Then, get a bucket of the cheapest cooking oil, a small bottle of salt, and a bottle of basic soy sauce or tomato sauce for seasoning," Suri continued planning. "For staple foods, we have rice and pasta, which are the basic cooking necessities."

Eyjafjalla pushed the cart, like a soldier following orders, doing exactly as instructed. The shopping cart gradually filled up, but it was all the most basic and cheapest ingredients. Even so, the total price was already putting pressure on her.

“Now,” Suri’s voice carried a hint of “compromise,” “you can go and get two kinds of ‘junk food’.”