Chapter 6: shopping like a cheapskate
Cain did not waste any time. He walked straight to the parking area, reached his motorcycle, wear his helmet, and mounted it without looking back. The campus behind him was loud with voices and movement, and he had no intention of staying long enough for someone to interrupt him again.
"Alright," he thought as he adjusted his grip on the handlebars, "let's go home."
Home meant only one thing to him.
"My apartment. My comfortable room," Cain said quietly. "The only place where I can relax, lie down, and scroll on my phone without anyone bothering me and the only place I can have my freedom."
He inserted the key into the ignition and paused.
His hand stopped.
"…Wait."
Cain frowned slightly.
"Oh. Right."
The image of his refrigerator flashed in his mind—half-empty shelves, a nearly finished bag of rice, and seasoning bottles that were almost scraped clean.
"The fridge is basically empty," he muttered. "Rice, salt, oil…, ginger, onion everything's running out."
He exhaled slowly.
"If I don't buy groceries now," Cain said, "there won't be any dinner tonight."
He started the engine, the low vibration traveling through his body.
"I'm basically living like I'm homeless this month if I spend carelessly," he added, half-joking, half-serious.
The motorcycle rolled forward. Cain passed through the campus gate and merged onto the road, the buildings slowly shrinking behind him. The tension in his shoulders eased as the wind hit his helmet.
He headed toward the nearest market.
When he arrived, he slowed down and parked. The market building was large and clean, with wide glass windows and bright lights visible from outside. At first glance, it looked luxurious, almost too refined.
But Cain liked this place.
"The products here were high quality." he thought, "but the prices are reasonable. Not like those overpriced stores near the rich districts."
That was why he always came here.
As he walked inside, The bell above the glass door rang once, followed by a low hum of voices, rolling carts, and the steady beep of the cashier's scanner. The air inside was cold and smelled faintly of ice, raw meat, and soaps.
He noticed several familiar uniforms among the shoppers. Students from his school stood near the aisles, talking loudly and checking items without looking at prices.
He grabbed one metal shopping basket and walked inside, different voices surrounded him as he walk.
"I swear, my maid wouldn't even buy vegetables this bad for my papa's pet goat," the girl said, glancing over the vegetable section with clear disgust.
"Just get the fresh and organic ones," her friend replied casually. "Dad said not to worry about the price."
Cain passed by them without looking.
Further inside, a group of students in his school uniform stood near the snacks aisle.
"Bro, why is instant ramen even sold here?" one boy laughed.
"Who even eats that?" another added.
"Poor people, I guess," someone said, followed by laughter.
Cain tightened his grip on the basket.
"Just ignore it," he told himself. "Buy your stuff and leave."
Cain frowned slightly.
"Just a few days ago," he thought, "there were barely any students here."
Now the place felt crowded.
"Ever since the school started today," Cain said quietly to himself, "this place got flooded with spoiled clueless kids."
He tightened his grip on his basket and walked deeper into the market, keeping his head low and his focus on one thing only.
"Buy what I need," he thought. "Then go home."
That was all he wanted.
Cain moved through the grocery aisles in a straight line, stopping only when he reached what he needed. He picked up a pack of salt ($1.20), black pepper ($2.50), a bottle of cooking oil ($4.30), sugar ($2.10), tea leaves ($3.00), vinegar ($1.80), and soy sauce ($2.40). He stood for a moment in front of the rice stacks, then lifted a heavy sack into his basket—10 kilograms of rice for $12.00. After that, he went to the canned goods shelf and chose carefully, counting each one until he reached twenty cans, mostly sardines and meatloaf, each priced between $1.10 and $1.50.
"This amount of rice and daily seasoning should last me a month," he said under his breath, checking the total in his head.
He lift the basket toward the vegetable section. The same bratty girl was still standing there, looking displeased. Cain avoided her and went straight to the discount crates placed at the side. The labels were marked in red, almost 50% off. He picked three kilograms of potatoes ($2.40), one kilogram of tomatoes ($1.60), a bundle of spinach ($1.20), and four cabbages ($3.00 total). The vegetables were simple but fresh enough.
"This should be enough," he muttered quietly, scanning his cart. He paused, then remembered a few more essentials. "Wait… the eggs and bacon too."
He walked toward the refrigerated section. A carton of a dozen large eggs sat neatly on the shelf, marked ($3.50), and next to it, strips of bacon in vacuum packs glistened under the cold lights, priced at ($4.20). Cain grabbed one of each and carefully placed them in his basket, adjusting the other items so nothing would get crushed.
He placed the last item properly into the basket and walked toward the counter to pay.
"I already spend... $71.20 dollars."
As he walked toward the counter, Cain instinctively slowed his pace when he passed the meat and fish section.
"Should I cook something good today," Cain thought, "just to celebrate surviving school? Something that gives me the strength… before I lose it and end up punching half the spoiled brats in that place."
On his left was the meat counter, long and wide, covered with thick glass. Bright white lights shone down on neatly arranged cuts. Small plastic signs stood in front of each tray, printed with bold black numbers.
Beef sirloin steaks lay flat on metal trays, red with thin white lines of fat.
$19.80 per pound.
Ribeye is beside them.
$26.50 per pound.
Cain leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"…This prices is rubbery," he muttered.
Next to the beef were chicken cuts. Boneless chicken breasts were stacked high, it's pale and trimmed clean.
$9.60 per pound.
Chicken thighs, skin-on, looked juicier.
$7.20 per pound.
"Still expensive," Cain said quietly. "And I'll eat everything in one sitting anyway."
Further down were pork cuts. Pork belly with thick fat layers.
$8.90 per pound.
Pork chops arranged in pairs.
$7.80 per pound.
Lamb occupied the far corner. Lamb shoulder and chops are rested, wrapped carefully in a thin plastic.
$28.40 per pound.
Cain straightened up and stepped back from the glass.
"If I buy meat today," he said under his breath, "tomorrow and the next day I'll be eating rice and canned food."
He turned and walked toward the fish section. The sound of ice being shoveled echoed softly. The smell changed, fishy and salty. Fish lay on crushed ice, their bodies angled toward the glass.
Tuna loins were cut thick.
$7.20 per pound.
Whole mackerel rested side by side, silver skins reflecting the light.
$5.40 per pound.
Tilapia lay open and cleaned.
$4.10 per pound.
"Fish is already looking better, because of the price alone," Cain thought.
He spotted salmon fillets stacked neatly, bright orange with white lines of fat.
$22.00 per pound.
He stared at them for a second, then sighed.
"That looks good," he whispered to himself, "but still too expensive for me. I only have two hundred dollars, and I need it to last until next month
His eyes moved downward to the lower shelf of the counter, where cheaper cuts were placed. There, wrapped in paper and resting on ice, were salmon heads.
The eyes were clear and fresh. Some of the small meat attached to the head was still firm and fresh.
$2.30 per pound.
Cain stopped completely.
"…There that's what I like!," he said softly.
He leaned closer and examined them carefully.
"Salmon head are Perfect for soup."
He nodded slowly.
"Salmon head sour soup—sinigang—for tonight," Cain said quietly to himself. "It's warm, filling, and best of all… cheap. Finally, I can actually have a proper meal tonight."
A fish vendor noticed him and stepped closer.
"Salmon head?" the vendor asked.
Cain nodded. "two pound, please."
The vendor scooped them onto the scale. The numbers blinked, then settled.
Cain watched quietly.
"That's dinner," he thought. "And maybe tomorrow too."
When the salmon heads were wrapped and placed into a thin plastic bag, Cain took them and set them gently into his basket.
As he lift his basket towards the cashier, the noise of the market continued around him—voices bargaining, ice scraping, plastic bags rustling.
He paid for his groceries and waited as the cashier carefully wrapped them. Stepping outside, he hoisted the bags onto his motorcycle and adjusted them so they wouldn't tip over. "A little heavier than I expected," he muttered, shifting the weight and gripping the handlebars, ready to ride home.
Cain glanced at his watch. 1:30 p.m. His eyes widened slightly. "I should head back to my apartment," he muttered, shifting his bag on his shoulder.