The Cooking Clone Awakens
“Kiyaaak!”
“……”
It wasn’t the same dizzying haze in my eyes and ears like when Cooking Charm awakened, but instead, my whole body convulsed in agony.
“Kwaaaang!”
“……”
I’d cranked my pain sensitivity to max since I never expected to get hit, and now this is what happens!
“Ugh, uwaaaah!”
“…You’re really losing it, huh.”
Vesta stared at me rolling on the floor with a look of utter disbelief. The cramped space meant my frantic thrashing knocked over burners left and right. Lucky I’d turned them off, or the whole kitchen would’ve gone up in flames.
“Don’t just watch—help me out here!”
“How? I don’t even have the strength for a single fireball.”
“Urk… You could at least help me up.”
“Tch.”
Vesta strode over and extended a hand.
“Grab on.”
With her help, I grunted and struggled to sit up.
“…You’re heavy as hell. Lose some weight.”
“Ugh… Is that something you say to an injured man?”
The pain had dulled a bit, but my body still throbbed hot and sore all over. What the hell was this time? Don’t you dare be something bad.
Muttering under my breath, I tapped into my skill window.
Skill - Cooking Clone Art Lv.10 0.00%
Skill - Cooking Clone Art has reached Level 10.
A new ability has successfully awakened.
You can now use Skill - Cooking Clone Art.
Skill - Cooking Clone Art scales with the level of Skill - Cooking Copy Art.
“…Huh?”
Cooking Clone Art? What’s this now?
“Phew—no, Chef Fernando! What happened?!”
Dapam, back from serving ramen, poked his head through the building gap and shouted.
I flashed my palm to reassure him.
“Ah, it’s fine. Just a little mishap.”
“You sure? Sounded like a girl screaming.”
“…I said it’s fine.”
Then, noisy footsteps and calls from outside.
—That cowardly scream! It’s definitely Master!
—No doubt! That tragic heroine wail! It’s Master!
—Master! You okay?!
—We’re here, Masteeeer!
…Those idiots.
Irritation surged, but I tamped it down and turned back to the skill window.
“Hmm…”
Cooking Clone Art, huh. Better test it out first.
“Cooking Clone Art!”
I scanned around with wide eyes.
“……”
Nothing changed.
“…?”
What the—
—Masteeer!
—You safe?!
Their voices grew louder, now right outside. I burst out of the kitchen.
“You punks! You called me boss during business hours!”
As I yelled and stepped out, the four had become six sprinting across the white plains.
“…Huh?”
I blinked hard and looked again. Now there were six—no, eight.
“…What the hell.”
A seductive voice from behind.
“Hoo~ So you just learned it too, eh.”
Vesta peeked out from the kitchen, murmuring.
“…Pardon? What do you—”
But before I could ask, they were upon me—now eight strong—bombarding me with questions.
“Master!”
“Masteeer!”
“You okay?!”
“We heard a scream.”
“Like a little girl’s!”
“Ambush?!”
“Where’s the enemy?”
“You safe?!”
Eight voices at once—total chaos. My head spun.
Before it got worse, I bellowed.
“Hey! You eight! Shut up!”
“Huh? Eight?”
“What do you—”
They finally looked at each other.
“Eek!”
“Mommy!”
“Who’re you?!”
“I’m me!”
“Then who’re you?!”
“I’m me, duh!”
“Liar! I’m me!”
“No! You’re not me! I’m me!”
“……”
…Agh, my head.
I pressed my throbbing temple and squeezed my eyes shut. What a mess.
I unleashed Lion’s Roar.
“SHUT UP!! CLOSE YOUR MOUTHS!!”
“Gasp—”
“Hup—”
Finally, they zipped it.
…Now I can breathe.
Molrangkau arrived late with pots, eyes wide.
I nodded to say I was fine, then turned to Vesta.
“Did Sulis have this ability too?”
“Of course! He used it to escape plenty.”
Vesta’s face soured.
“…That slippery bastard.”
“……”
From her tone, Sulis abused it on her a lot. She must’ve been the prime beneficiary of his Cooking Clone Art.
“Do you know how to use it, then?”
“Yup!”
“Ooh…!”
Vesta shrugged proudly.
“He said for cooking summons, the more you reduce combat power, the more clones you can make.”
“Er… so then.”
“Yeah. More clones, weaker each one gets.”
I eyed the now-ten of them.
…So they can multiply more?
Then—
An idea flashed.
“Vesta.”
“What?”
“Can you make clones of me too?”
She chuckled.
“…Huh? Why?”
“You don’t get it yet?”
“Get what?”
“Look inside.”
She pointed into the kitchen. Peeking in, there I was—another me, staring blankly back.
“…Huh?”
“…Hm?”
“Who’re you?”
“Who’re you?”
I looked at Vesta.
“No way… my clone?”
She grinned mischievously.
“Yup. Been behind you since you muttered ‘Cooking Clone Art’.”
“……”
Murmurs from behind.
—Gasp. Master’s doubled!
—Which one’s real?
—The one who screamed like a girl, probably.
—Makes sense.
…Those morons.
Ignoring them, I approached my clone slowly.
“Hmm…”
Identical. Though disguise hid our real faces.
As I marveled, he did too.
…Why’re you marveling?
“Hey, clone.”
“What’s with ‘clone’?”
“……”
This feels weirdly off-putting.
“You’re the clone, right? I’m real?”
“What’re you on about, clone? Think you’re not a clone?”
…This punk.
Calling him clone irked him plenty. Strong sense of self, just like me.
“Hey, clone.”
“What, clone.”
Time to show who’s boss.
“If you’re real, answer this.”
“Shoot, clone.”
“What dish did I first make for Beda?”
He snorted.
“Easy. Fried egg.”
“Wha…! How…!”
How does a clone know that?!
“Obviously. I’m real.”
He smirked smugly.
“My turn to ask.”
“Go ahead.”
Whispers from Molrangkau and Vesta.
“Two Huras…? What’s going on, Vesta?”
“Hohoho, fun show. Rare sight—enjoy it.”
The clone glanced back and asked.
“Remember first meeting Molrangkau?”
“Sure. She scarfed kimchi jjigae and bawled like a broken faucet.”
“Hey!”
Molrangkau yelled, but I ignored.
Clone grinned.
“How many bowls did she eat then?”
“Wha…!”
I froze. Couldn’t recall exactly.
He cackled villainously, noticing.
“What’s wrong? Memory issues?”
“N-no! I remember perfectly.”
“Then say it.”
“……”
A ton, I think…
“Five bowls!”
“Wrong!”
“…Eight?”
“Wrong!”
Molrangkau snapped.
“Hey! Think I’m a pig? Wanna die?!”
“Eek. Hold it, Molrangkau. Can’t miss the show.”
“Show my ass—I’ll kill ‘em!”
Chaos behind, but clone smirked and revealed.
“Answer’s ten bowls.”
“No…! She ate that much?!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth at her hidden talent.
Bickering behind.
“Let go! I’ll kill that punk!”
“Eek…! Molrangkau! Hold it! Getting mad means you lose!”
Clone crossed arms arrogantly.
“So, who’s the clone?”
“Impossible…!”
Shock swallowed me; I dropped to my knees.
“Right, clone. Molrangkau’s got a huge gut. You didn’t know—how could you be real, clone?”
I clutched my head. Am I really the clone?
Then Molrangkau’s furious shout.
“Bullshit! Ten bowls? As if!”
“No! She’s loose!”
Vesta failed to hold her; her shrill voice closed in.
“You liar! It was three! Where’d you pull that from?!”
“Eek!”
“Get over here. Won’t?”
“J-just kidding, Molrangkau!”
“Kidding? Me too, punk!”
Whoosh—
“Kwaaak!”
“Run!”
Clack-clack—
Clearing the ashes of the (old) kitchen, erecting a new structure. Much bigger this time.
“Chef. This enough?”
Dapam asked. I nodded mid-cook, soot on my clothes and face.
“Yes, plenty. Make it rough. Just needs to block wind.”
‘Berry Merchant Group’ folks built the (new) kitchen swiftly. Skilled too.
Business never stopped. Gold Sun and Tteok Sun-i handled serving.
“Do it right?”
Thwack.
“Ow.”
I was getting gleefully smacked by Molrangkau, cooking outdoors.
Her flames on the snow endured the chill wind steadily, replacing burners.
“Hey! He said ten bowls—why hit me?!”
I pointed at my clone washing dishes in the corner with [Crescent Dragon Horn].
He was as sooty as me, averting eyes when caught glancing.
“It’s your clone.”
“Didn’t hear? I’m the clone; he’s real.”
“Aw, brag much. Lost to your own clone.”
“Tch. He said it so confidently, thought it was true.”
Thwack. Thwack.
“Ow! Ow! Hurts!”
“Ten bowls? Please.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Right, you said five.”
“…Three or five, same diff.”
“What?”
Molrangkau’s eyes flashed.
“N-nothing.”
I looked down and focused on cooking.
“Heh heh heh.”
“Hee hee hee.”
“……”
I glared at smirking Gold Sun and Tteok Sun-i.
“Hey! What’re you staring at?!”
“Why pick on the kids? Cook properly.”
“Tch…”
Even ants have worker and slacker types. These were the slackers among the clones.
As Molrangkau chewed me out, Dapam approached.
“Hura-nim. Done. Burners installed plenty inside too.”
“Oh, already? Quick work.”
The (new) kitchen was spacious for three chefs.
“Good job.”
“No biggie.”
“Tomorrow’s your big trade day, right?”
“Wha. How’d you—”
Dapam’s eyes widened.
“Overheard. Still time if you leave now?”
“Ah, yes. Plenty.”
“Good. Take this.”
I handed him a heavy coin pouch.
He waved in panic.
“Huh? No, this is too much!”
“You helped a ton, unwillingly. Share with your ‘Berry Merchant Group’ folks, feast with the rest.”
“…Hura-nim…”
Dapam’s eyes welled up.
“Aish. My hand’s gonna fall off.”
I forced it into his grip.
“Busy, right? Go on. Won’t see you off cooking.”
“…Sniff. Yeah.”
“Farewell here.”
I offered a hand; he shook it.
“Good luck with business.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
“Call anytime if needed!”
“Sure thing.”
Off went Dapam and the merchants.
“Whew…”
Finally lighter. Heavy burden lifted.
But one more to go.
I called the dishwashing clone.
“Hey, clone! C’mere.”
“…Me?”
He pointed at himself hesitantly mid-wash.
“Yeah, you, clone. Who else?”
“…Not wrong, but feels shitty.”
Molrangkau’s judging settled I was real after a pop quiz.
‘Got beef? Speak up.’ She menaced with fire; he caved. ‘…No.’
Grumbling, the reluctant clone approached.
“Clone. You cook?”
“Why ask? Jaw’d hurt otherwise.”
Molrangkau clucked her tongue.
“Listen to him. Spitting image.”
I called Vesta, rolling with Gold Sun and Tteok Sun-i.
“Vesta!”
“Yeah?”
“Your offer earlier?”
“Accepting?”
I grinned.
“Nah.”
“What?”
“Sorry, gotta decline.”
All my headaches solved neatly. Thanks to Cooking Clone Art.
“Not confident enough.”
Heh heh heh… Now I wore the victor’s smile.
“No confidence in winning.”