Midday gradually came to his senses as the anesthetic wore off. His mind was foggy because of the drug, and it was difficult to think coherently, but he was nonetheless vaguely aware of the fact that the surgery ended a while ago by then—as evidenced by the fact that it was almost pitch-black inside the cabin, with only a sliver of sunlight coming in through the gap between the door and the floor. Must’ve slept through the night…

Unable to do much else, he let out a sigh which, oddly enough, came out as a soft whistle. Huh… He wondered if that had just been a random one-off thing or if perhaps it had something to do with the surgery. Another sigh proved it was the latter.

“What the…” He laid there in quiet confusion as the last dregs of anesthesia ran their course, thinking to the best of his ability about the procedure and the effects might have already had. He could feel his tongue very acutely in his mouth, moreso than ever before—and he felt as though the sense of touch inherent to the organ had increased in detail to an extraordinary degree, allowing him to discern the textures of the parts of his mouth it brushed up against with incredible clarity: from the smooth backsides of his teeth to softy pulpy feel of his gums to even the dangling tonsils at the back of his mouth, this newfound level of spatial awareness of the insides of his mouth told him more about each object than what should have been possible to discern. “Ugh…” The ability to feel every little bump and fold of anything that came into contact with his tongue almost reminded him of Devil Peppercorn and the way the ingredient amplified the apparent texture of any food it came into contact with, and Midday wasn’t exactly sure he enjoyed this newly improved sense of touch.

He laid there for another ten minutes or so before the anesthetic finally wore off enough to start moving around, all the while acquainting himself with the previously unknown details of his mouth—the most prevalent of which were various mixtures of plaque and tartar that had he now knew had been accumulating throughout his mouth throughout his life. He remembered Gork mentioning the importance of ‘brushing your teeth’ in the past and, though Midday hadn’t really believed everything Gork told him back then, he certainly did now. His mouth, he now knew, was disgusting.

Sitting up, stuck his pointer finger into his mouth and felt at his tongue. It was an endeavor that made him realize that his tongue now had a far more potent sense of touch than anything his fingers could hope to match. He could feel the various wrinkles and layers of his skin to the point where he could easily visualize his fingerprint—something he hadn’t even known existed before then. As for what his finger was able to discern, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Besides feeling perhaps slightly more ‘solid’, there really wasn’t any difference.

“Guess it went well enough…” He sighed again—which this time came out as a proper sigh, as opposed to the odd whistle that had occurred the first few times he had tried it after waking up. Glad that’s in order. He forced himself up onto his feet and started toward the door. He wasn’t sure as to exactly what time it was, but he hoped that it would be late enough into the morning for Netari to be awake so that he could ask her some questions.

Popping out of the medical cabin, he found that the sun had been up for maybe an hour or two. Did I sleep through the 30-minutes-before-sunrise bell? Yikes… That’s new. Veolia was standing outside in the cul-de-sac doing some sort of martial arts punching practice, and Midday noticed upon seeing this that her fists were shining with fiery red light. She was only punching the air in front of her and yet the force behind each blow was so great that the leaves on the ground were blown around with every strike. He reckoned that there was enough power behind her fists to knock someone’s head off their shoulders.

“Practicing with your Ability?” Midday stepped out toward her with a neutral face. He wasn’t in an especially good mood at that moment, and all he really wanted was to talk to Netari about how the procedure went.

“You guessed it! Weekly Fight Club is tomorrow, and my opponent is a lot stronger this time than usual—so I’m freshening up on my Opus.”

Midday, though not entirely interested in the subject matter, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. He had known Veolia was by no means an average slave, but the fact that she could use an Opus meant that she was a stage two Ability user—which in turn meant that she possessed a level of skill with at least one of her Abilities that was sufficient to develop ultra-powerful named techniques using said Ability. Midday knew of less than 10 people in the Neighborhood capable of using Opuses, and he had never expected that Veolia would join their ranks. At once he understood why Netari allowed her to live such a seemingly carefree lifestyle: depending on the specific details of her Opus, which Midday assumed was something meant for combat based on her training methods, she could probably go toe-to-toe with someone several levels above her and win with ease. Veolia’s presence alone probably deterred most people from going against Netari—who was also an Opus user, albeit one focused on developing medical techniques as opposed to something better suited for winning fights.

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were a member of the fight club… What level are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Level 12!” Veolia let her fists drop to her sides and shrugged. “You really don’t keep up with Weekly Flight Club, do you? They’ve got all that sort of info up on the rankings bulletin—” She stopped for a moment and then shook her head. “Though I guess that isn’t very helpful for someone who doesn’t know how to read…”

“No, umm, not particularly.” Midday looked past Veolia towards the two-story cabin in which he imagined Netari resided. “I hate to bother you with this, seeing how you’re busy with training and all, but do you think it would be okay for me to talk to Netari?”

“Probably, but she’s actually out on business right now. Had to pay a visit to that guy who’s doing your quotas for the next few days and whatnot.”

“So… When will she be back?”

“Well, she’s got a meeting with Jenjo and Mell this morning too, so that might take a while… I dunno, maybe come back late in the afternoon?” She reassumed her stance and resumed the training she had been doing for a few seconds before turning back to Midday one last time. “Oh, and, by the way, you’re free to grab some food from our pantry before you go, if you’d like! I imagine your cabinmates have already had their breakfasts and cleaned the pots by now, so it’d probably just be more convenient to eat here real quick before you go!”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oh, uh, thank you for the offer… But I think I’ll pass. I don’t have much of an appetite right now.” Midday failed to stop a smile from forming on his lips as he thought about the fresh blackberries waiting for him in the forest. To say he wasn’t hungry had been a lie but, given that he was dealing with Netari, albeit indirectly, he was reluctant to accept one-way favors she would certainly him to reciprocate at some point. “I think I’m just going to go back to my cabin and sleep for a few more hours.”

“Ah, well, you do you. See you soon!”

“See you soon.” Midday left the Netari’s territory and started heading toward his garden in the forest. He was still tired, that much was true, but curiosity surpassed exhaustion and he was more than a little curious to see how the experience of eating food would be different now that he had what was essentially a new tongue. He was especially curious to see how his new tongue would handle Devil Peppercorn.

♦

As he stood there in the garden, feeling relatively safe in his aloneness, a subdued giggle escaped Midday’s lips. This was the moment of truth, he thought, the stars had finally aligned after several hellish days of doing everything in his power to get to this point. All three issues had been addressed: food supply, Devil Peppercorn supply, and the bad taste inherent to Devil Peppercorn-infused food. All he had to do now was put his solutions to the test.

He hurried over to the Devil Peppercorn vine and plucked a clump containing about a hundred beads off the tree before making his way to the blackberry bush and picking almost two pounds’ worth of berries. After that step was taken care of, he set the berries down on a flat stone.

In a small corner of the same stone, he dumped all the peppercorn beads and started crushing them up with the help of a rock of such size that he had to hold it with both hands. After he was finished making the powder, he simply scooped it up with his hands and sprinkled it onto the pile of blackberries until, at last, all traces of the powder were gone—having been fully absorbed into the berries.

Now came the part he had been dreading most: the taste test. His hands began to tremble with nervous anticipation. Midday took some amount of solace in the fact that Mister Potatoes had been fine after having some Devil Peppercorn-infused ants on the previous night, but the ordeal was nerve-wracking all the same. He took a big gulp, swallowing his fears—if only for a moment—as he bent down and picked up a single berry. His hands were shaking so terribly by then that could hardly keep the berry from falling out of his palm but, before any such thing could happen, he shut his eyes tight and stuck it into his mouth:

Nothing.

There was no taste. Absolutely none. He could still make out the texture of the blackberry—and in unimaginably high detail at that—but there was no trace of either the sweet tanginess of the blackberry or the hell that was Devil Peppercorn. The extremely potent texture of the Devil Peppercorn-infused food, which he now realized had probably just been in his head the whole time, was also absent. “What the hell?” Now a tad worried because of the flavorless void in his mouth, he tried his luck with another berry.

Still nothing.

“Did I… No… That can’t be…” Midday hopped up onto his feet, made his way to the blackberry bush, picked an untainted blackberry off the plant, and stuck it into his mouth.

Another dose of bland nothingness.

He was still able to enjoy the texture somewhat—owing in large part to the vastly improved sense of touch that his new tongue provided—but, regarding taste, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. His stomach dropped as he connected the dots. He had lost his sense of taste in its entirety: it was as though each of his tastebuds had been exchanged for thousands upon thousands of microscopic feelers that gave him great tactile awareness at the expense of his ability to taste food.

Midday stood still as a statue for a while, mortified at what he had done to himself, before drawing in a deep breath and then letting out what very well might have been the biggest sigh of his life.

“Fucking hell…” He half-heartedly hoped that Netari would be able to fix him, but he had his doubts. Plus, even if she could do something, she would be almost certain to charge a price he would never be able to afford for the service. Now that Midday had gotten the surgery, he was back to being just yet another customer for her to squeeze as much value out of as possible. Midday knew he could also ask Gork for help, but the fact of the matter was that Gork, while talented in every sense of the word, was nowhere near as skilled as Netari and, though Midday supposed that it would probably be fine to ask Gork for advice regardless, he decided against it: Gork very rarely got angry, but Midday was certain that the young doctor would be furious if he ever found out that he had worked alongside Netari—even moreso if he ever learned that Midday had all but sentenced someone to the wheel in the process of doing so.

With the deepest frown of his life spread across his face, Midday started shoveling the remaining two pounds of berries into his mouth. Though he planned to visit Netari to at the very least ask some questions about the loss of taste, he decided that, in the meantime, it was best to make the most of the situation. He could eat an unlimited amount of Devil Peppercorn with zero repercussion and, though he now detested the means by which he had achieved this feat, it was by no means something to make light of. He gorged himself until his stomach felt as though it would pop at any second and then beyond even that until every single Devil Peppercorn-infused blackberry had been devoured.

He sat down his back pressed against a tree as he pondered the significance of this meal: he had just consumed more than a hundred beads’ worth of Devil Peppercorn without suffering the ill effects of their taste even slightly. Complete immunity. That was what he had achieved—though he found the price he had paid for it far too steep. There was some level of enjoyment in exploring the innumerable nuances of texture between blackberries, but that was more along the lines of scholarly appreciation than anything else. It paled in comparison to actually being able to enjoy the taste of food, which was an ability he desperately prayed might be returned to him in the coming days.

He rested at the base of that tree for a while, forgetting his policy of always spending the absolute minimum amount of time in his garden as possible in doing so. There was a lot on his mind, and security certainly wasn’t one of them. Even so, after fifteen minutes of sitting in silence, he forced himself to get up and dig out the ring. Gotta use my charges.

“Effect Added. Elvanerean Ring: Accelerates growth of any plant the user points at by one year. Can be used 3 times per day.”

He gave the first charge to the peppercorn vine, which sprouted another 5 clusters of Devil Peppercorn as a result—all of which were still much smaller than the Devil Peppercorns from Neighborhood 6. That brought his estimated total number of beads up to a little under a thousand, which seemed like more than what he could ever possibly need.

The second charge went to the blackberry bush, which fully replenished its supply of blackberries. There were enough on the bush to last him several days—if not a whole week—if he only ate as hunger dictated, but Midday instead planned to finish the entire supply in just two days. He knew that he needed to gain weight and that he needed to do it fast so, naturally, he planned to eat as much food as possible each day until he achieved the physique he wanted.

The third and final charge for the day went to a thorny bush, which sprouted up between two trees, mostly blocking both the path and the view into the garden. It wasn’t perfect, and Midday reckoned that he would probably need to give it another charge to get the full coverage he wanted, but Midday nonetheless considered it a good start.

With all that taken care of, he took off the ring, buried it, and set off for the cabin—where he hoped to spend the next few hours catching up on sleep.