Daniel's POV.
I gave up trying to control the mess she was making. Scolding her was just draining the energy I needed for my day off. I headed to my chair, determined to ignore her presence and start my otaku ritual.
I settled in front of my PC and started browsing the internet. My plan was simple: spend my hard-earned factory pay on new games or, better yet, those Figma collectible figures I'd been eyeing for months. My mom had always been stingy, calling my hobbies a waste of time, but now I had my own cash. These figures are masterpieces—articulated, detailed, and perfect. But they come with a price tag that makes my wallet ache, anywhere from two thousand to six thousand pesos for a single one.
To some, spending that much on a "toy" is absurd. It's enough to cover the water or electric bill for a month. To them, it's a waste. But to me, it's a piece of the world I actually enjoy.
I felt a shadow fall over my shoulder. Elisa had leaned in, her eyes scanning the monitor. "Wait, don't tell me you're buying those toys again? You already have so many on that shelf!" she said, her judgmental tone reminding me way too much of my mother.
"Can you back off? These aren't toys—they're collectible figures," I snapped, reaching back to push her face away from my screen.
She didn't move. She leaned closer, squinting at the price tag on the screen, and let out an audible gasp. "Six thousand pesos? For that bit of plastic?"
As expected, she immediately started objecting. It's always the same—people see the price and suddenly you're labeled as "extravagant."
"You're throwing money away on those things, Didi. If you spent it on food or something useful instead, at least you'd be full," she scolded. Her eyes were filled with this weird mix of disappointment and pity, as if she were the one who had spent twelve hours a day in a hot factory earning that money.
I wasn't about to let her win this. I shot back, my voice sharp. Who cared what she thought? She wasn't the one enduring the grueling repetitive motion of the machines or the supervisors' yelling.
I gave her a piece of my mind, keeping it curt. She didn't seem fazed, probably used to my grumpiness by now. "You know, Didi, no matter how I look at it, spending on those toys is just a waste. You can't even use them for anything," she said, shaking her head.
This girl was beyond infuriating. I wanted to kick her out, but she was already settled on my bed. I held back a louder retort. What's the difference between me buying a Rem figure and her splurging on designer clothes just to look good for people she doesn't even like? Is it because I don't "wear" my figures? People buy plenty of things they don't use daily—wedding rings, expensive vases, picture frames—it's all just for the aesthetic.
"Hmm, I don't know, but I think spending on those things is way more worth it than on toys," she replied smugly, tapping her chin.
Wait, was she seriously saying her luxuries had more inherent value? It's all just material. Yet society gives her purchases a pass while belittling people like me.
"If you think your luxuries are important to you, it's the same for me with my anime collection," I argued, my voice rising slightly. Everything is just matter—it only holds value based on who's looking at it. I explained that I could see gold as just another boring alloy or a diamond as a mere crystal in a pile of broken glass. If "worth" was only about utility, then people spending fortunes on shiny rocks were the real fools.
"You think so weirdly, Didi. It's simple—gold is gold, and plastic is plastic. How can you say your toys are more valuable than gold?" Elisa said, biting into her apple again and looking at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Because no matter how expensive those things are, they mean nothing to me if I don't care about them," I countered. "Value is personal."
Instead of being impressed by my logic, she just stared at me, unimpressed. She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head with a grimace that felt like a slap. She didn't even argue; she just turned around and walked back to my bed to keep reading my manga, as if my words were complete nonsense.
Her reaction pissed me off more than a direct insult would have. I turned back to my monitor, my grip tightening on the mouse. She was already ruining the vibe of my day off, and I desperately needed to find some good vibes before I lost it completely.
"Otaku mode on!" I thought to myself, the familiar glow of the monitor reflected in my glasses.
I dove back into browsing, the stress of the factory shift finally beginning to fade. Naturally, I searched for Rem right away. "Finally! I'm getting a new piece for my waifu collection!" I whispered excitedly, my pulse quickening as I scrolled through the search results.
"Hold on, which one should I get first? The latest one or the one I've been wanting for ages?" I leaned in closer, the fan of my PC whirring a bit louder as several tabs opened. "They're both amazing. What else would you expect from Rem? She's naturally gorgeous in any form." I felt a bit of heat in my cheeks as I scrutinized the paint job and the flow of her blue hair on the screen.
For an otaku like me, when you have the money and the chance to grab a collectible, you don't let it slip away. I didn't hesitate—I clicked "Buy Now" on both. "Bwahaha! You're mine now!" I cheered, my fingers tapping a victory march on the desk as I entered my card details.