Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 60: Bittersweet Catalyst

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm and inviting glow upon the town of Wonderelle. The cathedral’s bell resonated through the cobblestone streets, indicating the arrival of noon. A few plumehearts, akin to pigeons, had gathered by the door of a quaint bakery, pecking at scattered bread scraps, their coos harmonizing with the distant chime.

The heart of Wonderelle buzzed with life, its streets teeming with colorful stalls, merchants of all kinds, and the aroma of various foods wafted through the air. Vendors called out to passersby, enticing them with their wares—jewelers displayed glistening trinkets, fruit sellers arranged their vibrant produce in tantalizing pyramids, and the blacksmith’s rhythmic clang echoed as he crafted weapons and armor.

Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the air, and children’s playful giggles echoed in the alleyways. The town was indeed a place of vibrancy, a haven of lives interwoven in harmony.

Yet, tucked away in the shadows of a back alley, a stark contrast to the lively streets, there was the growling of a hungry stomach, the sound echoing like an unanswered plea.

Reeza, draped in a tattered hooded cloak, stood in solitude, her figure blending seamlessly with the alley’s obscurity. She clutched a stale loaf of bread, its hardness a testament to the passage of time and scarcity of sustenance. Her once bright and rebellious eyes now held a weariness that came from a life of hardship and want.

As she leaned against the cold stone wall, her lifeless gaze fell upon the meager bread in her hand. In the midst of this bustling town, Reeza’s plight stood as a stark reminder of the harsh realities that persisted just beyond the cheerful façade.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and in that brief moment, she was transported back to a distant memory—a time when bread was warm and fresh, and her heart was unburdened by the weight of the world.

Reeza hastily pushed the distant memory aside, the ache of hunger urging her to devour the stale bread that felt as hard as dried concrete slipping down her throat. Finishing the meager meal with a gulp of water, she then shifted her attention to the constant flow of people passing by the alley.

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