The Weight of the Frying Pan

"Let me see... where is it?"

Hura rummaged through the translucent settings window.

"Ah, found it!"

He quickly located the button he wanted and pressed it firmly. Moments later, a tiny fairy visible only to him popped into existence.

"Greetings. I am Sebastian, the fairy guide of Fantasy World, here to assist you. How may I help you today?"

The fairy delivered her trained greeting with elegant poise.

"Hmm. Nothing major. You called this 'Zleplan' earlier, right? Is that short for 'Have a Fun Fantasy World' or something?"

"Yes, it is."

The little fairy composed her twitching lips and responded earnestly to the customer.

"It just seems kinda lame, so I thought I'd check."

"Right? I think so too."

The fairy flashed a bright smile.

"It's so corny."

"Haha, exactly."

The two burst into laughter they'd been holding back, facing each other.

"Dahyun, you know what happened today?"

"What happened?"

Dahyun naturally perched on Hura's shoulder and asked back.

"Check this out!"

Hura pulled a treasure chest brimming with gold coins from his inventory.

"Whoa! What's all this?"

"Heh heh, got lucky on a quest. How much you think this is worth?"

The fairy fluttered up to the chest and examined it closely.

"...This isn't just any gold—it's ancient imperial coins from the Empire era. Where'd you get this?"

"Ran into Emperor Minare's ghost by chance and asked for a treasure as a favor."

"Wow... this is gonna fetch a fortune. No wonder rankers rake in the cash."

Hura also drew out a frying pan from his inventory.

"Ta-da! Check this out too. This was the quest reward."

"Gasp! Legendary grade item? How on earth did you get that?"

"Well, see—"

Hura excitedly launched into the tale of his first adventure for Dahyun.

Watching Hura from afar was someone else.

"...Who the heck is he talking to?"

It was the red-haired mage, Molrangkau. She claimed it was a chance discovery while walking by, but hunkering down in the bushes with a telescope trained on him was anything but coincidental.

"No one's there? Messaging someone?"

Molrangkau muttered, squinting for a better look.

"Hek hek hek—."

A dog approached her hiding spot in the park bushes and started sniffing around.

"Hey! Get lost! Shoo!"

"Hek hek—."

The dog took her gesture as permission and began marking its territory on her.

"Eek! You crazy mutt!"

Molrangkau reached out toward the dog mid-business, red energy swirling from her hand.

"Ah, miss! Sorry!"

A girl rushed over and apologized.

NPC?

Killing an NPC turns you into a wanted criminal, hunted by bounty-hunting players and state soldiers. Same for players, but NPCs hit harder—even killing a dog gets you wanted.

"Tch."

Just paid off my bounty to clear my name—no way I'm racking it up again over this.

Molrangkau withdrew her hand.

"Get that stupid mutt and scram."

"Y-yes! Sorry!"

The girl yanked the leash and fled.

"Ugh, the smell."

Molrangkau wrinkled her nose at her damp clothes. Normally, she'd have incinerated it to ash, but Hura's words held her back.

I hate people who are rude and drop informal speech on strangers right away.

Her own behavior didn't fully match, but she was trying to change, bit by bit. Sparing the mutt was proof.

After deep emotional wounds, she'd been venting negativity freely in Fantasy World. Her infamy was widespread, her bounty top-tier.

But after dining with Hura, she'd gone to city hall, paid off her entire bounty, and was heading back. She didn't want to disappoint her rare new friend.

"Sigh—what am I even doing? Not like I'm a stalker."

Gazing at Hura still chattering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to himself, Molrangkau rose from the bushes and logged out.

"Time for some drama."

For some reason, she craved a sweet romance drama tonight.

A moon hung in the dark night sky, but its faint light couldn't fully pierce the deep shadows of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the back alley.

"Summon."

He drew the moonlight-infused frying pan, illuminating the alley's gloom as he ventured in slowly.

"Pretty sure it was around here."

As he muttered, something plopped onto his shoulder.

"Hey! Back safe?"

"You crazy old man!"

Overjoyed, he hugged him tightly.

"Wh-whoa, what's this?"

Gordon sounded flustered.

But how could he not be thrilled? The man had given him a legendary item and wealth beyond imagination!

"This frying pan is insane!"

Gordon eyed the pan in his hand and whistled in admiration.

"Oho, already got it? Impressive. Plenty fail to claim it without the strategy."

"Haha, I used to play escape rooms back in the day."

"Hm? Escape rooms? What's that?"

"Nothing. Oh, and about that white powder..."

"Ah, that powder?"

Gordon grinned slyly. Anyone would think he was a real drug dealer.

"Heh heh, tried it in cooking? Killer, right?"

"Eh..."

After feeding it to Molrangkau, he'd tasted the powder itself—no flavor at all. Pure nothingness. Even in dishes, no special taste.

"Didn't notice much difference when I tried it."

"Hm, really? Makes sense. Doctors can't treat their own ills; chefs often miss nuances in their own food. That's why we shove spoons at folks for tastes."

"Got it."

Pretty common, huh? He nodded, convinced.

"Old man, so this white powder... is the magic you mentioned nostalgia?"

Gordon's eyes widened.

"Hoo, what makes you think that?"

"Fed some in a dish, and they started bawling about old memories."

Gordon stroked his white beard thoughtfully.

"Hmm, hmm, so that's it. Your power is nostalgia."

"Pardon? My power? What do you—"

"No more hints. Figure it out yourself."

"Yes... Anyway, any other cooking tools around? Like this crazy pan?"

Gordon eyed his greedy gaze and clicked his tongue.

"Tsk tsk, true artisans don't blame tools."

"Not blaming—want the perks. And didn't you say chefs should seek top tools for better dishes?"

"Hmph, overly good tools make chefs lazy, stunting growth. That pan's still beyond your skill."

"Beyond? You said I had talent."

"That was for a newbie. You can't even draw its true power yet. Need training."

"Training's fine."

He recalled grinding through Gordon's grueling daily tasks. Tough, but the fulfillment upon completion was indescribable. And the skill gains...

"Cook with a basic frying pan and sell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the streets!"

The absurd quest drew a hollow laugh.

"...You crazy old man."

Impress 100 people with cooking? He'd barely managed one last time.

Was this even a sane task?

Despite protests, Gordon was firm: unworthy of the pan without it. Its value was unimaginable.

I heard from the emperor ghost too, old man. Yeah?

Small mercy: no deadline.

"Hmm... what to cook?"

Last time was a classic blunder. Braised pork ribs are heavy fare—not light street food folks grab on impulse.

"Light dishes doable in a frying pan?"

Street food. One thing sprang to mind.

"Gotta be tteokbokki."

After school, spinning his indoor shoes like a top, racing to buy cup tteokbokki for 500 won. The mere thought stirred nostalgic saliva.

"Slurp—tteokbokki it is."

He wiped drool and hit the shops for ingredients, claiming shade under a tree in the bustling square.

"First, summon a helper."

Oil in the pan for fried eggs. As they browned spotty, he shouted.

"Cooking Summon!"

Flash—

"Greetings, Master."

"Good."

Golden blond hair, tanned skin, crisp white suit. Total thug vibe.

"Tteokbokki?"

Geum Taeyang eyed the ingredients.

"Yeah. Draw customers while I cook."

"Understood, Master."

Tteokbokki's simple. Tteok in pan, water, sugar, soy, chili powder, stir in gochujang. Simmer, stirring to prevent sticking or burning.

Nearly reduced? Add chopped green onions. Finally, sprinkle white powder.

"Heh heh heh. Everyone's got childhood tteokbokki memories, right?"

Not the same newbie. Learned tons from Gordon, built knowledge. And that nostalgia-triggering powder.

No random tasty dish—strategic max success: market traits, consumer wants, prime spot, play strong cards.

Failure? Just a shortcut to success.

"Heh heh heh, prepare to be enchanted, foolish masses."

The ruby-red tteokbokki bubbled invitingly, glossy exterior ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠teasing pale innards. Hura stirred the pan with a villainous grin.