A Fried Egg Full of Memories
“Um… please try this delicious braised pork ribs before you gooo…”
“Customer-nim. Speak a bit louder so others can hear.”
“D-Delicious braised pork ribs! Please give it a tryyy!”
It had been two days since I set up shop on the street. No one came for my tasty braised pork ribs. They just ignored me and walked by.
A few kind-hearted folks did try it, but they didn't seem fully satisfied—the quest didn't complete.
As the deadline loomed closer, anxiety gnawed at me.
“Um, Dahyun-ssi.”
“Yes?”
“What happens if I don't clear the quest in time?”
“Well… you can only try again after a week.”
“What? From the beginning?”
“Y-Yes…”
The fairy mumbled awkwardly.
“That's ridiculous! Isn't that too harsh?”
I'd barely passed stage 1 after breaking down 100 dishes. Start over? And only after a week?
“Y-Yeah, it is a bit much, right? Let me check on it for you.”
Poof!—the fairy vanished, sweating bullets.
“Haa—”
Still, I had to focus on clearing this quest first. Worrying about failure from the start never helps.
Was I missing something? I double-checked the quest window.
Class Change Quest - Chef's Qualification 2
◈ A chef's dish means nothing without customers who enjoy it.
◈ Delight a customer with your most confident dish!
◈ Time Remaining:1 Day
The key seemed to be delighting the customer.
“Hoo—”
Delight a total stranger with food? Easier said than done. I'd only been seriously cooking for a week—in a game, no less.
“Sigh…”
All I could do was sigh. Time for a fried egg. I was confident in those; I'd made them a ton IRL.
I set down the pork ribs pot and heated the frying pan. Oil in the hot pan, crack an egg.
It sizzled instantly. A sprinkle of fluffy salt on top, careful not to break the yolk—but keep it soft-boiled inside.
My hands moved on autopilot, shaking the pan smoothly. The egg glided effortlessly over the oiled surface.
“...Hic.”
“Hm?”
A small sound from right in front of me. A burly, scary-looking man with a fierce face was watching, tears streaming down.
* * *
Rank 6: Beda.
He sat clutching his head in the square of Genesis Village, the newbie hub.
This was where he'd spent time with his ailing mother.
'Wh-what is all this?'
'Haha! Mom, this is virtual reality. Looks real, right?'
'Oh my. It's so lifelike.'
His mother's illness had worsened.
'Not much time left. Prepare yourselves…'
He'd known, but her death still hit like a truck. Months later, the pain hadn't dulled.
“Ugh… Mom…”
A familiar scent wafted to his nose amid his grief.
“...This smell…”
The nutty aroma of egg frying in oil. He looked up—a black-haired young man frying eggs on the street.
Drawn like a moth, Beda approached. The youth's skilled hands made the white egg dance smoothly on the black pan.
'Waaah! I don't wanna play with Mom!'
'Joo-ho, look here.'
'No! Don't wanna look! No play means no look!'
'Come on, just once?'
'No!'
'You'll regret it.'
…Peek.
'Whoa!'
'Hehe, cry then laugh and horns grow on your butt?'
His mom, a great cook, would soothe his childhood tears by tossing and catching fried eggs high.
…Drip.
A tear fell from his eye.
The youth noticed.
“Um, sir? You okay?”
“Ah, y-yes. I'm fine. It's nothing.”
Beda roughly wiped his tears.
“Just… seeing the fried egg reminded me of someone.”
“Must've been someone precious.”
“...Yes. She was.”
Beda smiled sadly.
Whoosh!—the youth tossed the egg high and caught it softly on a plate.
“Here.”
“N-no, it's fine.”
“It's nothing. I'll make another. Eat up.”
“B-but the price…”
Beda fumbled for his pouch.
“No charge. Just eat.”
“Can't eat for free.”
The youth smiled gently, palm out.
“Then just one copper coin.”
Beda handed over a coin; the youth gave him spoon and chopsticks.
“Enjoy.”
“Thanks. I'll dig in.”
Sunny yolk floating on white. He poked the bouncy yolk gently.
It burst, oozing slowly over the whites.
'Hoo—blow on it. Or you'll burn your mouth.'
'Hot!'
'Mom said blow! Listen to Mom.'
The thick, cheese-like yolk steamed, breaking its film. Beda blew on it, breath shaky.
He took a careful bite.
'Tasty, my boy?'
'Yeah! Mom's fried egg is the world's best!'
'Aigoo, eat slower.'
Mom smiled warmly, patting his butt.
“...Sniff.”
Beda broke, sobbing openly.
“M-Mom… hic. Mommm…”
He hunched, shoulders shaking. Tears plopped to the ground.
“……”
The youth reached out, patting his shoulder gently.
* * *
“Sniff. Sorry. Embarrassed myself. Ruined your business.”
“Nah. Wasn't selling anyway.”
The man chuckled sheepishly. Fierce eyes, scary scars—but polite and kind, unlike rude elders who bossed kids around.
“Truth is, Mom passed a few months ago.”
“Aigoo. I'm sorry.”
“She made fried eggs often. Feels lighter now. Thanks.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He pulled something from inventory—a heavy coin pouch clinking with metal.
“Not much, but take it.”
“No way. Just one fried egg.”
I waved it off.
He grinned.
“Just an egg, but priceless memory for me. Please accept.”
“N-no, can't take that much.”
“Make another. Take it.”
He teased playfully.
…I'd said that exact line.
I reluctantly took the heavy pouch.
“Thanks for the meal. Sell lots!”
“Yes! Thank you!”
“Thank you!”
The man, greatsword on back, waved and walked off.
Nice guy. Can't judge a book by its cover.
As I watched his receding figure with a smile, a chime rang.
Ding!
“Hm?”
“What? Just a fried egg?”
Then—poof!—the fairy appeared.
“Customer-nim, I asked, but no changes possible…”
Dahyun looked downcast.
“It's fine! I cleared it!”
“Really?!”
“Yep!”
“Yay! Congrats!”
We grabbed hands and jumped. Well, she just held my fingertip—fairy hands are tiny.
“What's this?”
She pointed at the heavy pouch.
“Customer paid with this.”
“That much?”
“Yeah. Tried refusing, but insisted…”
“Open it!”
I carefully untied the pouch.
Shiiiine!Clink! Blinding!
I shielded my eyes from the glow. Peeking through fingers at the source.
“Gasp.”
The pouch brimmed with golden light. I pulled one out for a closer look.
“Th-this is all gold coins?”
Sunlit gold gleamed proudly.
“Seems so?”
Dahyun gaped at the coin in my hand.
“How much is this…”
I peered into the pouch, murmuring.
“One copper's about 100 won, silver 1,000, gold 10,000…”
She counted roughly.
“At least over a million won?”
“A million?!”
A million—that's 100 hours of work!
“Can I even take this much?”
“...Your hand already decided.”
My hand was auto-storing it in inventory.
“Oops. Did it without thinking.”