Fried Rice That Hooks the Village
"...What the?"
I scratched my head at the suddenly dropped call.
"Master. Is something wrong?"
"Nah. Must've been a wrong number."
After parting ways with Molrangkau, I'd been strolling leisurely through the peaceful forest village with my hands clasped behind my back. Clear sunlight filtering through the trees, the cool scent of the woods—it was purifying my soul. It looked just like one of those dream destinations I'd always wanted to visit someday. No, maybe even better. Tech's come a long way. No need for real vacations anymore. With a fat stack of cash earned, I could just sightsee at my leisure.
As I wandered, I realized Genesis Village was bigger than I'd thought—more like a city, really. This Shin-dong Village fit the "village" label better. The laughter of kids playing on quiet trails mingled with the whispering forest breeze, drifting from afar.
Just as I was meandering through this serene spot, a notification chimed.
You have 1 new message.
"Hm? What's this?"
Tapping the button pulled up my friends list right away. One message had arrived.
Hey, Hura? It's Molrangkau. Finished my business here, heading north now. Super busy, you know. You're on your own, figure it out. Oh, and I got revenge on that guy who hit you, so no worries.
...Wasn't worried about that.
The reward money's yours. Don't need it. Take care. See you later. Not way later, soon. Like, real soon. Don't get the wrong idea. Catch you next time. Your one and only true friend, Molrangkau.
...She wrote a whole letter? Do people usually send messages like this? And that "true" at the end was bolded for emphasis.
"What the heck?"
I called her immediately.
Riiing—
"Wha—huh?! H-hello? Hello?!"
"It's not your hubby."
"......"
"......"
"Wanna die?"
"Sorry."
"I'll let it slide once."
"Thanks~"
"Why'd you call?! I sent it all in the message!"
Her voice was prickly.
"Saw it. Why send a message like a letter?"
"H-huh...?"
She sounded flustered.
"...Whatever, sender's call."
"...That why you called?"
"Nah... You seemed pissed earlier. You good?"
"...Yeah."
"Cool. Glad you're okay. I'll hold onto that reward money for now, give it back later. You're busy, right? Talk soon. Hanging up."
"W-wait! Hold on!"
Molrangkau sounded urgent.
"Yeah?"
"...Not that busy."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah..."
"I'm kinda busy. Bye."
"Hey! You jerk! Wait!"
"Yeah? What?"
"Wanna die?"
"Nope."
I chuckled as I replied.
"If you don't wanna die, make kimchi jjigae next time we meet. Got it?"
"Got it."
"With bean sprouts. Or die. Got it?"
"Got it, got it."
"Hmph. Bye!"
Click.
What a tsundere cutie in every way. Hard to believe this is the infamous Rank 5, the Fire Witch. Rumors are trash, right?
"You're handling it well."
Glancing sideways, Geum Taeyang beamed warmly.
"...Handling what?"
"Nothing."
"......"
I resumed my steps along the path. Sure, I was surprised Molrangkau was Rank 5, but nothing really changed. I'd learned long ago not to trust rumors. To me, she was just Molrangkau—the ditzy girl who bawled like a kid over kimchi stew.
...Who turned out scarily strong.
"Time to get to work."
I had a reason and goal for coming here.
I pulled up the quest window.
Demonic Chef
📍 Become the Demonic Chef who enchants the entire world!
📍 Travel the continent following his footsteps and gather clues about the Demonic Chef.
📍 In the lush green Shin-dong Village, seek traces of the Demonic Chef.
I figured something would pop when I arrived, but the text was unchanged. What a user-unfriendly system.
"Tch. Find it myself again, huh?"
Grrrowl—
"Sigh. Food first."
I settled in a spacious clearing under a tree's shade, pulling out ingredients and tools.
"Master. What's on the menu today?"
"Kimchi fried rice."
Another familiar dish from my hands. A lifesaver for solo dwellers everywhere.
Prep basics first: Chop kimchi fine, slice green onions thin, dice ham.
"Summon."
Poof—
I set the fancy frying pan on the burner, coat with oil, start with green onions for that scallion oil.
Sizzle—
Delicious aroma already wafting. Toss in ham, stir till golden, splash of soy sauce. Then the kimchi.
Shwaaak—
The sound and smell explode—way better than before. Geum Taeyang's already smacking his lips.
Sugar to balance sourness, pinch of gochugaru. Now instant rice.
Shhkk—
Good thing this fantasy world has instant rice stocked up. No cooking rice separately—super convenient. Smart design. Explains the hype.
Mix and fry vigorously. Pan's non-stick magic means scrape away—no worries about burning or sticking.
Dish into pretty bowls. But we're not done—fried rice needs fried egg.
Smack away Taeyang's sneaking hand, top with sunny-side-up, sprinkle sesame seeds.
"Haha, done! Taeyang, dig in—"
"...Gulp."
I looked up at the mysterious gulps around me.
"......?"
A crowd had gathered, drooling and staring holes into my kimchi fried rice.
"Hm? Sniff sniff—what's that smell?"
Neighborly Do-tori, back from hunting, sniffed curiously. A strange scent never smelled in Shin-dong Village before. Yet oddly familiar.
Contradictory, but it gripped his nose like a drug, dragging him along.
It led to a clearing where a young chef cooked under a tree. Others, similarly ensnared, gathered.
Shkk—shkk—
The chef snapped the pan, shaking red rice grains expertly.
'That's... kimchi fried rice?'
Drool.
'...Looks delicious.'
He plated meticulously, added fried eggs. The visuals made saliva flood.
"Haha, done! Taeyang, dig in—"
"...Gulp."
Swallowed involuntarily. The chef looked up.
"......?"
He muttered at the crowd, bewildered.
"Uh... wasn't planning to sell..."
"Um! Excuse me... could I just have one bite? One bite?"
Neighborly Do-tori pleaded desperately.
"Please. I'm begging."
Looked ready to cry if refused.
Hura blinked, then nodded.
"Sure, one bite..."
Hands shot up everywhere.
"Me too! Me!"
"One bite for me too, please!"
"Haven't eaten since morning!"
"Quiet! Chef said mine!"
"Then vanish, deal's off?"
"What'd you say, punk?!"
"Even fallen grains for me!"
Chaos of pleas.
"Quiet! Everyone quiet! No yelling, no one gets any!"
Hura's shout silenced the area instantly.
In the hush, he crossed arms, pondered, then grinned and pulled something from inventory.
Hura sprinkled white powder over the kimchi fried rice. It fell like first snow, vanishing instantly.
And the flavor exploded.
Shwaaa—
"......!"
Everyone froze.
'This smell... Dad's kimchi fried rice from childhood...?'
'No doubt! My first love Yujin's kimchi fried rice!'
'To taste this again—Grandma's, rest in peace!'
The aroma tugged at memories.
"Ch-chef... what powder...?"
"My special secret sauce."
Hura stood with a bowl.
Gazes followed the rice.
"I'm here seeking clues about this village. For my quest."
He poked the glossy yolk. Golden yolk oozed; he soaked rice and scooped.
"Any special info you've heard, odd traces, suspicious artifacts, good hunting spots—anything. Valuable tips get a bite of this delicious kimchi fried rice, depending."
Hura inhaled deeply, eyes closed.
"Mmm~ The smell. Tasty, right?"
Dazed nods, drool streaming.
He opened his eyes.
"Alright, let's start."
"Me! Pick me!"
Pandemonium.
A pristine all-white lab. A woman in clear safety goggles tinkered with complex machinery, her casually tied black hair exuding intellect.
"Hmm... if I do it like this..."
Clunk.
Whirr—!
Metals meshed perfectly; the machine hummed to life.
"Yes! It worked!"
Her joy was short-lived.
"...Why'd it work?"
She scratched her head. Her expressionless face seemed cold; closing eyes, she replayed the process. Frowns betrayed her turmoil.
Bzzz—bzzz—
Her phone on the desk vibrated, shattering focus.
"Ugh, right at the good part."
She scowled at it. Screen showed two words: "Your Dad."
"In the lab. Busy. Hanging up—"
At Dad's desperate cry, Sera sighed, wedging the phone between shoulder and ear while scribbling notes.
"What now."
This wasn't new; she replied casually.
"What?!"
Sera shot up, grabbing the phone properly.
"He paid the deposit?! That's no small sum! All of it? No mistake in the amount?"
"Where'd he get that money?"
Dad sighed heavily.
"Did you ask?"
"...Where the heck..."
That deposit was what she'd given her brother via parents. She knew the exact amount—impossible from a year's part-time gigs, no matter how many.