How the Rank 0 Chef Survives - Chapter 131

Dozens of pots floated in the air. Flickering flames licked at each one vividly.

Molrangkau yawned, flicking her fingers lazily. Compared to controlling hundreds of flames at once in the fire witch's final trial, this was child's play—like lying down and eating rice cakes.

Clink-clink.

Dahyun watched the magical sight in awe, sorting the now spotless pots.

Whoa... so cool. Maybe I should've gone mage instead of gunner.

She glanced at the one casting the spell. Their eyes met.

"……."

"……."

An awkward silence hung between them.

"Ahem…"

"Ahem…"

They cleared their throats and looked away. The air grew tense.

Even if they'd sorta made up in the heat of the moment, years of baggage wouldn't vanish overnight. It was like the awkward morning after drinking—the subtle discomfort of tiptoeing around each other.

But Molrangkau had a solid excuse, so she mustered her courage and spoke first.

Know your enemy and know yourself—victory in a hundred battles!

"Hey, Dahyun unnie."

"Huh?! Oh?"

Dahyun jumped like she'd been ambushed.

"Uh... should I not call you unnie...?"

"No, no! Call me unnie! Use casual speech too. We agreed on that."

"Yeah... we did."

"What's up? Something to say?"

Dahyun calmed her surprise and asked.

"Nothing big. Just curious."

"Shoot! Ask away!"

Dahyun amped up her cheer to shake off the awkwardness.

Molrangkau didn't hold back.

"Were you really a fairy, unnie?"

"Yup. A fairy from the Fantasy Games service department."

Dahyun puffed out her chest proudly.

"I skipped the tutorial…"

"Most people do."

"From a fairy's view, is skipping better, or hearing it all out?"

"Hmm... depends on the person, but I liked doing the full thing."

"Oh yeah?"

"Feels like I did a proper job. Gives that sense of accomplishment."

"I see…"

Molrangkau nodded slightly. Insider tips from her favorite game company's employee were fascinating.

"What about now? Did you quit?"

"Nah. Transferred to game planning."

"Ooh... demotion?"

"...Not a demotion! If anything, it's a promotion. Customer-nim says the same thing?"

Dahyun shot her a glare, but Molrangkau dodged it, pretending not to notice.

"I'm a game tester in planning now."

"Game tester?"

"Hehe, yup. I get paid to play games. Jealous?"

"? Not really."

"...Figures. What's a high ranker got to envy?"

Dahyun grumbled, clinking pots as she sorted.

"What does a tester do?"

"Play the game, write reports, that kinda thing."

"So you can play however?"

"Not total freedom. There are tasks and stuff. That's why I gotta log back in right after closing shop."

"Why?"

"Can't hang in high-level zones this early. What reports would a newbie have from here?"

"Ah…"

Molrangkau was genuinely probing, just as advised: learn about the enemy.

But Bes's expression soured as she watched. Midway through dishes, she shot Molrangkau a pointed look.

Molrangkau. Forget that—ask about Hura.

Molrangkau blinked wide-eyed.

...Huh? What?

"Sigh…"

Bes sighed, waving it off like it was nothing. She should get the hint from gestures too—she muttered, finishing the dishes.

"……?"

Molrangkau floated a question mark over her head at Bes, then turned back to Dahyun with a sudden thought.

"But unnie."

"Yeah?"

"You're older than Hura—why use polite speech?"

"Huh... good question? It just feels natural now. Customer-nim never complains, so maybe he prefers it."

"Hmm... yeah?"

Then, static buzzed in Molrangkau's ear. She perked up at distant sounds.

"Hm? What's that noise?"

"Noise?"

Dahyun asked.

"Sounds like fighting."

"Customers scrapping? I'll check."

Dahyun started to stand.

"Wait—hold up!"

Molrangkau stopped her, finger to her ear.

"Oh, got it."

Then to Dahyun: "It's Hura. Says ignore it. Tteokbokki-dan'll handle. Focus on business."

Not even their boss is here, so no need for us to bother—

Dahyun eyed her. "...That friend-only voice chat?"

"Yup."

"...Come to think, we never friended Customer-nim."

Dahyun muttered bitterly.

"Oh, unnie. Hura says grab the clean pots quick."

"...Got it. Coming."

Dahyun hefted a towering stack of pots—taller than her head, wobbling precariously—and shuffled to the kitchen. Molrangkau kept washing, murmuring to herself.

"...Likes polite speech, huh?"

* * *

"Sir, let me seat you elsewhere. This way."

"Smo—ha— No, we're fine. Don't worry."

"Pardon? But…"

"Smo—ha— We're rankers. No worries."

"Ah... Understood."

"We're done here—take the pots."

"Got it."

Not a drop of broth left in the pot she handed over.

The waitress left to guide others. Niimorul Chataseo from Panwol Emo Jjomo stood, wiping her burning lips and puffy eyes with tissue.

"Smo—ha— You filming?"

"Yes, noona. Got it rolling."

The camera captured the raging war between Tteokbokki-dan and Sapjaru-dan.

"Damn. Should've kept waiting."

Niimorul Chataseo grumbled, dousing her mouth-fire with water.

"No worries, noona. Been filming since earlier."

"What? You were on my mukbang vlog."

"Yeah, but it was boring, so I switched. Caught Sapjaru-dan moving by chance. Nailed it from the start. Haha, good job?"

"……."

Praise him or kill him? Niimorul Chataseo pondered, deciding both—just one later.

"...Good job."

"Haha, thanks."

They leaped lightly, dodging something hurtling at their table unannounced.

Boom! Crash!

It smashed table and chairs, then sprang up, shovel swinging, charging back to battle.

"Sap haha ha!"

Perched on a tree branch, cameraman and reporter hopped branch-to-branch, filming the factions' war in earnest.

"There—the boss-looking guy. Focus on him."

"Got it, so quiet down, noona. Mic picks it up. Annoying to edit later."

"……."

Niimorul Chataseo suppressed the urge to smack his mic-head, following quietly. She'd clobber it post-battle.

After it ends.

Oblivious, the cameraman captured the fray.

The feed showed the Chairman swinging a bloodied spear.

"Give them nothing!"

Splat—the spear crumpled armor, piercing heart. He yanked it free as the foe crumbled to ash.

"Just take it all!!"

"Raaah!!"

Tteokbokki-dan roared back. Outnumbered but fierce—their 300 were elites who'd braved northern blizzards in white robes.

Sapjaru-dan, numerically superior, pressed hard. Battle raged fiercer.

Like all wars, the field was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hell. Shovels and spears clashed amid screams and shouts. One-on-one, two-on-one.

"Sap haha ha! Clear the way!"

"Never! Not one step!"

"Sap haha ha! These guys are real crazies!"

"We couldn't see him, and you think you can? Ridiculous!"

Tteokbokki-dan swung spears, veins bulging.

"You bastards! No cutting!"

"If I can't, you can't!"

"Not till dirt's in my eyes!"

Sapjaru-dan grinned.

"Then we'll put it there!"

"Sap haha ha! Sapjaru-dan! Ready!!"

Suddenly, they stepped back in unison.

"...Huh?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What the—?!"

"Heave—shovel!"

Tteokbokki-dan faltered; Sapjaru-dan raised shovels, slamming ground.

"Dig up dirt!"

"Dirt!"

Crunch—shovels tore frozen earth.

"Dig up dirt!"

"Dirt!"

Hard soil and snow poured onto Tteokbokki-dan.

"Argh!"

"You lunatics! What the hell!"

"My eyes! My eyes!"

"Dirty tricks!"

Blinded, they flailed. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Eerie laughs heralded incoming shovels.

"Sap haha ha! Power of the shovel!"

"Sap haha ha! Take shovel!"

"Argh!"

"Gah!"

Tteokbokki-dan, holding despite odds, began falling.

"Tch! Snap to! Can't let them reach Hura-nim!"

"Don't give 'em dig time!"

"Charge no matter what!"

Sapjaru-dan retreated again.

"Heave—shovel!"

"Wha—?"

"Dig up dirt!"

"Gaaah!"

Dirt blinded anew; attack followed. Retreat till recovery. Hit-and-run mastery.

Ridiculous-looking, devastatingly effective. Tteokbokki-dan reeled helplessly.

"Ptoo! Fight like dogs!"

"Fight fair!"

"That knightly for subordinates?!"

But losers are silent. Only victors' words endure.

The Chairman gritted teeth. Reverse this or lose. Already outnumbered…

Gwisinigo Kalroli blasted a Sapjaru-dan, rushing to him.

"Chairman-nim. Use that."

"But that's for escorting Hura-nim—"

"Escort after victory! Luxury talk when we're dying?!"

Crunch—he clenched jaw. She was right.

"Tteokbokki-dan! All retreat!"

They dodged dirt, falling back.

"Sap haha ha! Surrender?"

"Shoulda sooner. Clear path! Sap haha!"

"Our dirt'll blot the sun! Sap haha ha!"

Chairman glared, bellowing again.

"Tteokbokki—out!"

Tteokbokki-dan pulled fiery tteokbokki from inventory. Sapjaru-dan sneered.

"Sap haha ha! Classic Tteokbokki-dan. Always packing?"

"Last meal then! Sap haha!"

Chairman unflinching.

"Load tteokbokki!"

"...Load?"

"Fire!"

If they dirt-blinded, counter with tteokbokki. Red globs splattered Sapjaru-dan.

Splat-splat.

"Don't play with food!"

"Filthy fighting!"

No mere tteokbokki—each piece packed ogre-paralyzing magic. Research team's rushed secret weapon.

"Wha—this?!"

"Can't move!"

Chairman smirked.

"Blot the sun?"

Snap—hundreds of spears aimed.

"We'll fight in the shade!"

Spear to them: "Tteokbokki-dan—charge!"

"Raaah!!"

Tides turned. Tteokbokki-dan seized momentum.

Sapjaru-dan still numerous. Paralyzed recovered, shovels high, charging back.

Spears met shovels; battle bogged down.

* * *

This kitchen: dozens of burners roaring nonstop. Scorching heat tormented three chefs.

"Cooking Clone Art! Cooking Clone Art! Cooking Clone Art!"

I battled heat, boiling ramen like mad. Eyes flicked to quest window.

Just a bit more... just a bit...

Late afternoon edged toward evening. Sapjaru-dan could strike anytime—their leader too.

Hit 3,000 ASAP, then bolt like wind.

We had Molrangkau, but no need to fight comers. Run and done! All good!

Please... please...

I muttered, boiling furiously.

"Almost! Finish before they bust in!"

Jeil Hura stirred ramen, yelling.

"Damn bear! Why so close yet such a pain!"

Even cursing, numbers climbed steadily.

"Last ones! 3! 2! 1!"

Ding!

"Yes!"

"Woo yeah!"

"...Haa."

Then—

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Sap haha ha ha ha!!!"

A thunderous laugh boomed from above—worlds apart from the sporadic ones outside.

I snapped my head up. Lightning surged through me—every cell screamed danger.

"Everyone—out of the kitchen!"

No time to celebrate—I hurled myself outside.

BOOM!!

The kitchen exploded. Like a meteor strike, massive impact.

"Urk."

Prone, I turned. A man stood there.

One laughing monstrously, booming.

"Sap haha ha ha ha ha!!"

Rank 8—the true madman all acknowledged—had arrived.