Making Money by Delivering Takeout in a Lovecraftian Apocalypse

I transmigrated into the third year of a Lovecraftian apocalypse and survived by delivering food.

That is, until I found a phone with a group chat called “The Tarot Club.”

The members kept posting things like, “Mr. Fool, please bless me with an SSR!”

“My pendulum's burning hot again. Anyone else get it?”

I casually replied, “Order some food and chill out.”

The next second, the group chat exploded:

“Holy crap! Food delivery? There's still food delivery in this world?!”