Where is drinks on vending machine?

After a few days of the mirror thing, MC couldn’t stop seeing the same ad. The cursed company had eaten his feed.

UNUSUAL CORP.Refresh your lies. Drink your truth.

He tapped the screen like a hypnotized idiot. The price blinked back at him:  10k $

He checked his wallet. Two coins, a receipt, and an expired gum wrapper. “Yeah, I’m cooked,” he muttered.

Plan A: ask the boss for money.

Plan B: cry.

Plan C: hustle a museum.

Next morning, MC walked into work wearing his “I’m doing something illegal” face.

“Why are you here early?” the boss grunted from behind a mountain of half‑finished spreadsheets.

“Boss… my mom’s sick. Need salary early,” MC said, performing the exact level of desperation he’d practiced in the shower.

The boss pinched the bridge of his nose. “You used that last month.”

“This is sequel sickness. Worse symptoms.”

The boss sighed, slid an envelope across the desk. “Half. Don’t spend it on anime figurines again.”

MC bowed like a monk. “Bless you, hero.”

As he left, he whispered, “One day I’ll write your name in the history books.” The boss blinked. “Please don’t.”

Half a salary still didn’t equal one haunted vending machine. On the walk home, MC spotted something glinting in the dirt: a small, shiny rock, suspiciously nice for a random construction site.

Idea ignition.

Two hours later, MC stood at a museum counter like he’d studied PR for one week.

“This rock,” he said, placing it on a velvet mat with an air of unearned confidence, “is an Edo heirloom. Family relic. Sacred provenance.”

The curator squinted. “It’s just a rock.”

“It’s emotional,” MC said with laser focus. “It cries at midnight and with this rock my great great great grandpa use too rizz baddies.

Five uncomfortable silence seconds passed. Then: “We’ll take it how much for it."

MC said "100 k $ for you" with attitude 

They think for few seconds 

Then: Ok we will buy this.

MC left clutching a thick envelope, his breathe‑out a mixture of disbelief and petty triumph. “Bruh…” he laughed. “Humans are simp for stories.”

That night a delivery truck coughed to a stop outside his building. The box was heavier than his dignity. He dragged the vending machine inside like it was a sleeping beast.

It hummed under the streetlight, its logo staring like a bland god: UNUSUAL.

MC wiped sweat, grinned like a man who just bought trouble on credit. “Alright, you cursed can dispenser, show me what you got.”

He plugged it in. The little screen glowed. The slot blinked like an eye.

He fed a coin in, half expecting a soda that screamed, “I told you so.”

The machine whirred. A tiny internal mirror flipped like an eyelid. The tray clicked  and exploded into motion.

A crow shot out like a black rocket, feathers a mess, beak open in a scream. It flapped, did one chaotic loop, and landed on the machine like it owned half the neighborhood.

The crow fixed him with two sharp eyes and croaked, a voice like someone scraping a metal pipe and laughing mid‑insult:

“Kwaa those baka idiots gonna get spankedo. Doko desu ka… where they at? Fock!”

MC spat out a laugh that tried to be brave but came out like a choke. “…Wait. What did you just say?”

The crow ruffled, one eye a laser dot. “Fock… I Japanese crow not Americoans crow , dumb human. Maa… coin ni chūi shite. Don’t be baka. Kwaa.” It hopped off the machine and planted itself on MC’s shoulder like a petty tattoo.

MC pressed a palm to his forehead. “Bro, I bought a cursed narrative. Great investment.”

The crow peered around the room, feathers bristling with theater. “Next time shito people come I spankedo fast. Hontō ni. Kwaa.”

MC backed away slowly, tripping over a gaming box, nearly face‑planting into his chair. The crow cackled like it owed rent and then cocked its head, as if waiting for him to say something useful.

“…Are you going to tell me what the hell is happening?” MC asked.

The crow blinked, as if MC had asked something embarrassing. “You read mirror? Mirror lie. Machine tell truth sometimes, or… funny. I talk when truth near. Kwaa.”

MC looked at his hands half‑expecting them to be translucent. They were fine. For now.

The crow hopped off, pecked the vending machine’s logo, and whispered (or croaked, same difference), “We find them. I find truth. You bring cucumber maybe.”

MC stared. “Cucumber?”

“Cucumber good. Kappa like.” The crow shrugged, indignant. “You don’t know?? Fock.”

MC laughed, then realized his laugh sounded like a person who’d just signed for a haunted apartment. He was alone in a small room with a bird that swore, spoke broken Japanese, and clearly had zero plan to be helpful.

The crow settled on his shoulder, heavier than it looked, like a small, judgmental ruler. “Kwaa now watch. You ain'to gonnua geto a girl on future. I cano see ito.

MC blinked. “Bro, you can see the future now?”

The crow puffed its chest. “Yes. Future of lonelino simp. Kwaa.”

MC groaned, “I literally bought a vending machine, not trauma.”

The crow nodded wisely. “Same thing. Kwaa.”

Mc swallowed. “You mean… I will die virgin on future. No it hurts ahhhh...

The crow puffed out its chest. “Yes. I tell. But I no care cheap feelings. I spankedo. Fock.” It hopped off and started pacing on top of the machine like a tiny mafia boss.

MC slumped onto the couch. The vending machine hummed ominously. Outside, the city blinked in and out like a slow heartbeat.

He’d bought it for curiosity. He’d bought it for clout. He’d definitely bought it for the wrong reasons.

Now he had a crow who called people baka, threatened spankings, mixed Japanese and broken English, and seemed to consider cucumbers a viable currency.

MC rubbed his eyes. “Okay tomorrow, I figure out how to use you without getting arrested.”

The crow clicked its beak. “Kwaa. Tomorrow, truth come. Coin will show. Be ready, human. Fock.”

The vending machine’s tiny mirror glowed one last time, reflecting the two of them. A man with empty pockets and a bird with too much attitude. The light flickered, and somewhere, quietly, something that sounded suspiciously like a smile moved across the glass.

End of Chapter 2

Author Note: “Bought a cursed vending machine. Got a Japanese swearing crow. 100% would buy again

in. nikonikoni_777”

Teaser line for Chapter 3: The crow says someone close is lying. Who will it expose first? 👀