Prologue: The Rank 0 Chef's Trap
In the middle of a rugged mountain range, a tantalizing aroma began to waft through the air. Drawn by the scent, hunters nearby started gathering.
"Hm? What's that smell?"
"Sniff sniff. Smells delicious."
The creatures lured by the aroma soon spotted a man cooking in the clearing.
"Oh. Customers have arrived."
"Perfect timing. I was getting hungry."
Menacing, burly thugs with rough faces quickly surrounded the cooking man in an instant.
"Hey, you puny chef! Hand over everything you got and scram."
But the man ignored them completely, stirring only the bubbling pot.
"We told you nicely—hand over everything while we're being good."
"Yeah, that includes the food. Quietly give it all up, and we won't PK you. Heh heh heh."
Even under the thugs' threats, the man kept stirring the pot, not sparing them a glance.
"Oh ho? Ignoring us, huh?"
The bandits raised their hands to intimidate him. Finally, a reaction came from the stone-faced chef.
"Eeeeek! You evil bandits! Somebody save me!"
Shriiiiek! But his voice was so loud it echoed through the entire mountain.
"Urk!"
The bandits clutched their ears.
"What a voice! Hurry up and hand it over! No one's gonna help you here!"
"Monsters here are high-level—no normal person comes near, idiot!"
The bandits raised their hands again to punish the troublesome chef who wouldn't listen.
"Eeeeek!"
"Heh heh, shoulda handed it over when we asked nicely. Would've been good for everyone, right?"
Just as the bandit's hand was about to smash down on the chef, the ground began to rumble.
"Wh-what is it?"
Thud thud thud thud! With an earth-shaking roar, something kicked up massive clouds of dust from afar, charging in at blinding speed.
"Something's coming!"
That something slammed straight into the bandit who had his hand on the chef.
Boom!
"Gaaah!"
It hit so hard the bandit flew off into the distance, vanishing from sight.
The bandits stared blankly at their comrade soaring high into the sky.
"Lord Hura! Are you alright?!"
The one who arrived with tremendous momentum hurriedly checked on the chef. But the chef, who had just begged pathetically for his life, now crossed his arms arrogantly and spat out his words.
"Bandits. Interfering with cooking."
Then, the hulking man with a greatsword on his back bowed subserviently to this mere chef!
"These bandits caused you trouble! I'll send them flying right now!"
"Gasp!"
The bandits paled as they recognized the man. It was none other than Rank 6 Swordsman Beda, using utmost respect toward the chef.
Killing intent flickered in Beda's eyes as he glared at the bandits.
"You worthless scum. Daring to bother Lord Hura? I'll tear you apart."
Whoosh! A massive sword aura wrapped around his greatsword in an instant, making the bandits step back hesitantly.
The chef, arms still crossed, muttered.
"Bandits. Trying to rob my money. Troublesome."
Fire ignited in Beda's eyes.
"These bastards even stole your money?!"
"When did we, you lunatic?!"
The bandits protested their innocence, but it fell on deaf ears.
"You saying Lord Hura would lie?!"
"Bandits. Insolent."
"Understood. I'll handle it immediately."
Whoosh! Beda swung his greatsword.
"R-run!"
"Uwaaaah!"
The bandits scattered in panic.
Thud!
"Urk!"
But they soon crashed into an invisible wall and tumbled down.
"Urgh! What's this?!"
"Tsk tsk. Daring to attack Lord Hura? Looks like your guts are hanging out."
Someone descended from the sky. The red-haired woman was Rank 5 Mage Molrangkau.
"M-Molrangkau?! How?!"
The bandits were aghast.
"Tch. I could've handled it without your help, Molrangkau."
"Hmph. As if."
The two rankers growled at each other, baring teeth.
The chef, still stirring his pot, muttered.
"Food. Getting cold."
"S-sorry! I'll finish quick."
"Y-yeah, right away."
Molrangkau and Beda stammered in response.
The bandits, witnessing this bizarre scene, fell into confusion. Who was this worthless chef that the top rankers groveled like this?! Just a normal chef, right?!
Then they recalled a rumor: The legendary chef whose Demonic Chef dishes mesmerized even the strongest rankers! Always surrounded by rankers, untouchable even by Rank 1—effectively Rank 0 Chef!
'Damn! This guy's that rumored chef?!'
But their regret came too late. They fell like autumn leaves to the top rankers.
Through their blurring vision as forced logout messages appeared, they saw the trio chatting amiably.
"Lord Hura, here's the money these evil bandits stole."
"Mm."
The chef shamelessly pocketed the money Beda handed over like it was his own from the start.
"Mmm~ What a delicious smell! Um, Lord Hura, what dish is this? Can I take a photo?"
"Photo. Troublesome."
"Aww—come on, Lord Hura."
"Molrangkau, don't trouble Lord Hura."
Ignoring the bickering rankers, the chef tapped the floating quest window in the air.
Catch the malicious PK users disguised as bandits harassing players!
🎁 Reward: Bounty 100 Gold
A satisfied smile crept across the chef's lips.
'It was a trap from the start, huh. Damn...'
The game will force quit. You will respawn in the nearest village.
The bandits turned to gray ash and scattered.
How the Rank 0 Chef Survives
Episode 001
My name? Lee Hura. In English? Hura Lee. If anyone asks who names their kid like this, I proudly point to my parents.
I've asked them countless times about the origin of my name. First out of simple curiosity, then disbelief, and later in rebellion.
And their answers varied each time.
"Your name? Just 'cause. I was eating fried eggs."
"I was eating fried eggs, okay? Process matter? Results do. Pretty name, huh? Be grateful to your parents instead of whining. Hmph."
"Get out. No more words. Don't wanna hear it—out."
...So now I live independently, away from home.
Who even becomes independent like this? That's my life—scraping by with odd jobs.
Beep!
"700 won."
Clink. Clatter.
The customer tosses coins. Of course, one rolls across the floor like it has legs, forcing me to bend down and pick it up.
Beep!
"7,350 won. Bag?"
"You think I'd carry all this without one?"
Customer answers a question with a question.
Beep!
"3,000 won."
"How much?"
"3,000 won."
"How much?"
"3,000 won, I said?"
"How much?!"
Looks like beans are growing out of his ears. Damn jerk.
Did I go to college? College is a luxury, a waste for me. Smart people go there. Me? Studying was never my thing.
Beep beep beep. Beep boop!
"Phew. I'm home."
After a grueling day, entering my tiny empty apartment ends my routine. Days blurred into mechanical repetition until I finally started thinking.
What's the point of this life? Will it always be like this? Waking early to pick up tossed coins, eating convenience store meals forever?
Am I okay with this? No. Absolutely not. I want to sleep in, ignore tossed coins, order delicious jokbal or braised chicken every day.
So I pondered life's meaning. Have I ever truly felt it?
My name came to mind first. Lee Hura. Fried egg. My mind replayed Dad's young voice from the past.
'Son, gotta live up to your name, right?'
A casual joke from Dad, and clueless kid me cracked eggs, burned my hands practicing fried eggs.
The result?
'Hoho, my son's fried eggs are the best.'
'Haha, living up to the name, son. Wanna be a chef?'
Someone eating my food, smiling in satisfaction. That alone filled my chest with pride, shoulders puffed to the sky. In that moment, past and future didn't bind me—I lived fully in the now.
Yes. Life had clear meaning then.
...Chef. I whispered the word.
Was I destined for cooking?
"Alright."
Challenges are beautiful, right? More beauty is better. Let's dive in headfirst.
'Student~^^ Sorry, so many other applicants~.'
'Regret to inform you, not selected this time.'
...At least I got replies. Most ghosted me.
Results were brutal. I applied everywhere—even hole-in-the-wall spots—but all rejected my cooking on sight.
"Phew. Not all challenges are beautiful."
Epiphany: Challenges shine only with results.
But I gained something. A slim chance for beauty in challenge.
Last interview. Aunt told me right there I failed. On the way out, her daughter—goggles on, swinging arms at empty air at an empty table.
Curiosity piqued.
"Hey, kid."
"I'm not friends with old guys? Don't talk to me. Busy."
The brat slapped my hand away coldly. This punk calls a promising young man "old guy"?
I reached into my pocket. Heh heh, time to learn respect.
"Need allowance?"
Eyes on my bills, she ditched goggles, staring up with sparkling eyes. Enough for snacks.
But she held up five fingers.
"Five bills."
Tch. Kids these days are sharp.
"Here."
Handed over 5,000 won reluctantly.
"So, what's up?"
Money's power is real. She turned friendly instantly. I smirked inwardly.
"What's with the goggles? What're you doing?"
"Huh? You don't know Dream Gear?"
"Dream Gear? What's that?"
She sighed.
"Shoulda taken eight bills..."
...Scary kids.
"You know VR?"
"Yeah, sure."
Virtual reality. Fake reality. Heard it everywhere lately, but too busy surviving real life.
Who has time for fake when real's a struggle?
"This is Dream Gear—the best VR device."
"Ooh, really?"
"Yeah. Best reviews, most users. Over 70% of VR folks use it."
"Wow, dominant."
"Yep. Stock skyrocketed. Shoulda saved PC bang money for one..."
...Knows stocks too? Amazing kids.
"So, what do you do with Dream Gear?"
"Games, duh."
"Games with that?"
"Yep! VR games. What else?"
Naughty images flashed, but I shook them off. She grinned slyly.
"Other fun stuff too, heh heh. But that's two big bills."
...World's upside down.
"Pass. What game you play?"
"FW, obviously!"
"FW?"
"Fantasy World. Hottest game. Not knowing? Spy suspicions."
She eyed me suspiciously.
"I'm not a spy."
"Spies admit it?"
"...Fair point."
Nodded at her logic.
"Won't report you—add two big bills."
"Report me then. Sue you for false report."
"Tch. Guess you're clean."
She clicked her tongue disappointedly.
"Yeah. Busy with jobs, out of loop. What's Fantasy World about?"
"Anything! Swordsman, mage, archer—whatever."
"Cool. Productive stuff too? Like cooking?"
"Yep, chefs exist. But they're trash."
Hm. Figures.
"Where to buy Dream Gear?"
"Online anywhere. Or local electronics mart."
"Nice. Thanks, kid."
"Honestly, more than 5k? Told you everything, no spy report."
"...Fair. But not a spy."
Handed over a Yi Yulgok bill. Total 10k. She jumped for joy.
Dude. That's my hourly wage.
Strike while the iron's hot. Headed straight to the electronics mart.
Price tag: eyes popped. Popular yet pricey? 300,000 won?
Fine. Investing in my dream. For chef life, 300k is nothing. Paid cash, took it home.
Odd jobs built some savings. Tiny, but enough.
Now, find meaning in this empty life with this game. Live up to my name, become a real chef.
Won't? At least fun.
Followed manual, donned Dream Gear.
Before equipping, civilized me searched online. Works awake or asleep via brainwaves—whatever. Can work part-time alongside: win.
After mandatory calibration, entered virtual reality.
"This is... virtual reality?"
Not virtual—second reality. Indistinguishable from real.
Unlike clunky childhood VR helmets. World changed fast while I wasn't looking.
Floating in endless blue space, gawking—rectangular boxes flew up, spreading categories: games, movies, travel, rest—with icons.
Chose games without thinking.
Fantasy World popped huge.
"Top dog, huh?"
Search confirmed: free with Dream Gear, no buy needed. Exclusive deal from start. Win-win.
Logged in.
Please create a character.
"Character creation."
Pop!
A polygon figure identical to me appeared like a mirror.
...Polygon, right? So realistic.
Examined my mimicking double. Hm. Not narcissistic, but I look decent.
Could tweak height, nose—but too lazy, and original satisfied me. Kept as-is.
Please name your character.
Name? My name.
"Lee Hura."
Name already exists.
Huh.
"Fry."
Name already exists.
...Who names Fry?
"Hura."
Name available.
Proceed with this name?
"Yes."
You will be born in Genesis Village, the beginning of all.
Shwoooosh! Wind seeped into my body, refreshingly swirling. Like hatching from a giant egg, the world cracked open around me, revealing a new one.
"...Whoa..."
What production value. Too stunned for proper awe. Identical to reality?
Like vacationing in Europe. Dazzling sun over a vast plaza. Ornate fountain spraying cool water in the center. Cozy fairy-tale buildings encircling it. Streets bustling with uniquely dressed, lively people.
All real players? NPCs mixed in? Indistinguishable.
Stiffly walking the street, observing—something bumped my ear.
"Ow!"