Having sold out all 24 chicken steaks in Spider Forest, Irim earned a hefty sum and logged off for the day.
It was already 4 a.m.
He wanted to keep playing, but with his part-time job starting at 10 a.m., he needed at least five hours of sleep.
Irim lay on his bed, holding his smartphone.
He opened InTube.
He searched for “virtual reality game Real.”
As expected, aside from official ads or promotional videos from the game company, there were no gameplay videos.
The rumor about users getting permanently banned for uploading videos had spread quickly.
I’d better not make that mistake.
Irim accessed his web drive from his phone.
A new video titled “Rice-1” had been uploaded.
He played it.
The video showed Rice approaching the Great Unicorn Chicken from a third-person perspective, a fresh view compared to the first-person experience in-game.
Watching himself defeat the Great Unicorn Chicken, Irim drifted off to sleep.
“Argh!”
A player stabbed a makeshift spear, made by tying a dagger to a stick, into the Great Unicorn Chicken’s anus.
The next moment, he was impaled by the creature’s beak and died.
The spear hadn’t even pierced the anus.
It dealt no damage at all.
Other players whispered as they watched the fallen user.
“Wow, it didn’t even go in.”
“How did Rice take that thing down?”
Everyone believed the Great Unicorn Chicken’s weak point was its anus.
When Rice defeated it, that was indeed its death point. But death points changed every time a monster respawned.
Even among the same monsters, death points varied.
Moreover, Rice had the skill One-Point Thrust.
A skill that boosted damage to a single point, it took three precise hits to the death point to fell the Great Unicorn Chicken.
So, no matter how hard newbies tried, raiding it was impossible.
While most players scrambled to follow in Rice’s footsteps and make history, a cheerful, bright female voice rang out in the Starting Grassland.
“Fried eggs for 300 won! Chicken skewers for 1,000 won!”
It was Melina.
Users gathered around her, buying her fried eggs and skewers.
“Ugh, Rice-nim’s fried eggs were so much better.”
“These skewers are too dry. Better than raw meat, though…”
Despite their complaints, people bought Melina’s food.
She smiled brightly and responded, “That’s why they’re cheaper! I’ll get better with practice. I’m nowhere near making delicious food yet, but… you’ll enjoy Melina’s cooking, right?”
She winked at the end.
The male users’ hearts melted.
“Come on, step right up! Fried eggs for 300 won! Chicken skewers for 1,000 won!”
Melina shouted again, eagerly hawking her wares.
It seemed she had a greater talent for attracting customers than cooking.
For five hours straight, she sold food without a single break, yelling the whole time.
Yet she showed no signs of fatigue.
Driven by her admiration for Rice, she was determined to at least follow in his footsteps.
“Get a delicious fried egg here!”
Then, a notification appeared.
[Achievement Unlocked!]
Achievement Acquired: Can You Hear My Voice?
Condition: Engage in hawking for 5 hours or more.
Reward: Skill ‘Megaphone F’
“Huh?”
She hadn’t expected to unlock a skill through an achievement.
Melina checked the skill details.
[Megaphone F, Passive]
Increases maximum vocal volume by 10% and raises pitch by 1%.
“Nice, super sweet!”
It wasn’t a skill useful for combat.
But Melina was more interested in business than fighting.
So she loved the Megaphone skill.
Unlike others fixated on the Great Unicorn Chicken, she steadily followed Rice’s path in her own way.
Narae Snacks.
Irim arrived 30 minutes early for his 10 a.m. shift.
The owner, Oh Chunsik, glanced at him and handed him an apron without a word of praise for his punctuality.
“Put this on and head to the kitchen. The head chef will tell you what to do. And Irim-ssi, in our kitchen, the head chef is the law. Follow his orders without question. Got it?”
“Yes.”
Irim entered the kitchen.
It was an open kitchen, so the head chef, Kim Daewon, kept his eyes fixed on Irim.
“Ever worked in a kitchen?”
That was Kim Daewon’s first remark.
No greetings or pleasantries for a first meeting.
His stern face exuded only the authority of a boss.
“Yes, I have.”
“Korean, Japanese, or Chinese?”
“Korean.”
Irim had specialized in Korean cuisine, so he said as much.
“Then you should be quick. When you clock in, blanch spinach or other greens in bulk, then spin them in the dehydrator to remove all the water. Chopping onions, potatoes, and green onions is basic, you know that. Can you cook rice well?”
“Yes. I can cook it however you want.”
“Then do it when I tell you. When customers flood in, focus on dishwashing. If we’re short-handed, I’ll let you know, and you can fry some eggs or help finish dishes. Not too hard, right?”
“No.”
“Good. If you can’t even do this, you’ll go hungry. Start prepping the ingredients. First… peel that sack of onions, slice half into strips, and chop the other half.”
“Got it.”
Irim immediately started peeling the onions.
It was a task he’d done countless times while learning to cook.
It felt like stepping back into the past.
Immersed in nostalgia, he didn’t even feel the strain.
He peeled the onions in no time and began slicing them.
Tatatatatat!
The sound was remarkably crisp.
The rhythm was fast yet consistent.
Kim Daewon, preparing the kitchen for opening, couldn’t help but glance at Irim.
Unaware of the chef’s gaze, Irim focused solely on slicing.
Tatatatatat!
His knife moved so fast it was a blur.
“Hey, assistant!”
“Yes?”
Irim paused.
Kim Daewon approached and picked up the sliced onions from the basket.
“How can you slice onions so carelessly…”
His words trailed off.
He thought Irim was slicing haphazardly, but he was wrong.
The onions were uniform in shape and thickness.
As if measured with a ruler or cut by a machine, they were perfectly consistent.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no. You’re doing great. Keep going.”
“Yes.”
Tatatatatatat!
Irim resumed slicing.
Watching his lightning-fast knife work, Kim Daewon was inwardly stunned.
How is he so fast? Did he spend his life slicing onions?
Kim Daewon didn’t know.
Irim’s experience far surpassed his own, and he had a history of winning awards at cooking competitions.
“One bibimbap, please.”
“Two bibimbaps.”
“Boss, three bibimbaps for us!”
“Yes, yes, order received!”
One of Narae Snacks’ best-selling dishes was bibimbap.
Priced at 5,000 won, it was affordable, tasty, and generous in portion.
It had great value for money.
As the lunch rush hit, orders poured in relentlessly.
Fried eggs were essential for bibimbap and other fried rice dishes.
During peak hours, when bibimbap and fried rice orders flooded in, frying eggs nonstop was quite a task.
Finally overwhelmed, Kim Daewon called out to Irim.
“Assistant! Forget the dishes for now and fry some eggs. Sunny-side-up only.”
“Yes.”
Irim quickly responded and stood beside Kim Daewon.
Standing at the stove in the restaurant kitchen, his heart raced unknowingly.
He cracked three eggs onto the oiled frying pan.
Sizzle!
The eggs began to cook white-hot the moment they hit the pan.
Irim hadn’t cooked in reality for over a year.
But a master remains a master.
Though his skills had rusted, they hadn’t disappeared.
Plus, for the past two days, he’d made countless fried eggs in Real.
Three perfectly sunny-side-up eggs emerged from Irim’s hands.
He placed them on three freshly made bibimbaps.
The server, Yoo Mirae, carried the bibimbaps on a tray to a table with three male customers.
“Here’s your bibimbap. Enjoy.”
The customers mixed their bibimbaps and dug in without hesitation.
Bibimbap tasted pretty much the same everywhere.
These three men, young professionals from a nearby company, always had bibimbap at Narae Snacks for lunch.
It was the cheapest and most filling option.
But today, something about the bibimbap was different.
“Whoa, this is good,” one said, unable to hold back his admiration.
The other two nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, it feels moister and richer than usual.”
“Did they add sesame oil or something?”
“Idiot, sesame oil’s always in it.”
“It’s hard to pinpoint, but it feels like it’s worth about 500 won more.”
Oh Chunsik, carrying two kimchi fried rice dishes to another table, overheard.
What? The bibimbap tastes better?
That couldn’t be right.
Unless the chef or suppliers had changed.
Oh Chunsik quietly called out to the kitchen.
“Chef, did you change the bibimbap recipe?”
“What?”
Kim Daewon furrowed his brow, confused.
“The customers are saying it tastes better.”
“Their taste buds must be off. Don’t get swayed by stuff like that, boss.”
“Alright, alright. I was just asking, no need to get testy.”
Grumbling, Oh Chunsik served the two new bibimbaps.
Then he overheard a conversation between two female college students who had ordered kimchi fried rice.
“Does today’s kimchi fried rice feel different?”
“Yeah, it’s like… deeper in flavor?”
“The fried egg is just perfect.”
“Right? I’ve never had such a flawless sunny-side-up.”
“I get it! The fried egg is what makes the kimchi fried rice taste better.”
“No way, just because of a fried egg?”
“If you had to choose between kimchi fried rice with or without a fried egg, which would you pick?”
“Are you kidding? With the egg, obviously!”
“See? The fried egg plays a huge role in kimchi fried rice.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Oh Chunsik’s eyebrow twitched.
The fried egg?
He hurried to the kitchen to see who was frying the eggs.
It was Irim, diligently working the pan.
Could it really be because of his fried eggs? Nah, no way.
Oh Chunsik shook his head.
He was oblivious to the goose that laid golden eggs right in front of him.