How the Rank 0 Chef Survives - Chapter 4

"...It's real money?"

He muttered while fiddling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the thick wad of Sinsa Imdang bills clutched in his hand. Back in the day, you had to go to a bank in person, but now, with just a phone or computer, you could deposit or withdraw anytime. He'd cashed out the virtual reality currency from that nameless uncle into real-world money and printed it as cash just to feel its weight. The amount that uncle had given him came out to nearly 1.5 million won—an insane sum. Only when it became tangible in his hands did it finally sink in. And once it did, a wave of fear crashed over him at the sheer weight of it all.

"Wh-what if someone steals it?"

Thieves had become an endangered species in Korea long ago, but holding this much cash still made him jumpy. He hurriedly placed it on the small portable ATM connected to his computer. Whirr— The machine flashed blue, and the stack of yellow 50,000-won bills vanished, the amount safely deposited into his account. Only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then did he relax.

"Phew—great start."

He checked the clock and rushed out the door. He didn't have the luxury of gaming all day. Time to head to work.

* * *

Beep—

"51,300 won. Do you need a bag?"

"......"

No response. He let out a deep sigh. Another AirPod villain abusing cutting-edge noise cancellation tech? He looked up.

"Huh?"

Standing before him was a stunning woman with nothing in her ears. She was just gaping at him blankly, her face somehow familiar. On her way home from work, she wore a white blouse that hugged her graceful curves, leaving him unsure where to look. Her straight black hair was tied back tightly. Her porcelain skin contrasted sharply. Behind round glasses, her big, round eyes reminded him of a puppy.

No way I know a beauty like this.

"Customer? Do you need a bag?"

"...Yes? Oh, yes, yes!"

She finally snapped out of it and fumbled a reply. He added the bag fee, took her card, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swiped it.

"Please sign."

She scribbled a rough 'Yes' on the small screen with her finger. Signing or answering? He wasn't sure.

"Transaction complete."

He handed back the card. Time to bag it up. He pulled out a large bag and started loading in her selections one by one. All food: triangle kimbap, cup ramen, lunchboxes, hot bars, banana milk, imported beer, and drinking snacks.

"Oh, let me help."

Blushing, she pitched in bagging the mountain of food on the counter.

"I don't usually eat this much, okay? It's a special day today..."

No one had asked, but she rambled excuses anyway. He wasn't that curious, but politeness won out.

"Special day, huh?"

"W-well, it's my dog's birthday."

"Dog's birthday, but why..."

...are you eating it all? He swallowed the rest and stared blankly. Her face flushed deeper.

"I-it's because! He only made it to this birthday thanks to me! I worked my butt off for it! So I can eat a little!"

"Ah, got it."

Why's she yelling? Before she blew up more, he finished bagging and handed it over.

"Thank you."

She took the bag politely with both hands and turned to leave.

"Thank you. Have a good one."

The habitual farewell slipped out, and she paused, glancing back.

"Um, do you... play Fantasy World by any chance?"

"Pardon? Fantasy World?"

Her unexpected question widened his eyes.

"Oh, never mind."

She tilted her head and exited the convenience store, muttering.

"She looks just like him no matter how I look..."

* * *

Pop—

After work, back home, he logged into Fantasy World. His routine now: exercise, shower, dinner, then game. In other words, every spare moment not essential for survival went to the game. And since he could even do it while sleeping, the appeal was massive.

Unlike the dark real-world night, here it was morning, with a soft, unripe sun just rising.

"Time to head back to Gordon."

Quest cleared successfully—his steps felt light. Heading to the empty cooking tutorial hall, a tiny fairy popped out of thin air with a poof.

"Hello, customer-nim."

"Hey, Dahyun."

"Heading to finish the quest?"

"Yeah. Hope the next one's easier. Becoming a chef shouldn't be this hard."

They chatted casually as they walked the bustling streets full of players. He'd gotten close to Dahyun during the [Cook's Qualification 1] quest, feeding Gordon until he was satisfied. Close enough for personal chit-chat like this.

"Customer-nim, I saw someone who looked just like you earlier."

"Really?"

"Yeah. On my way home, I stopped at a convenience store, and there was this guy at the counter who was your spitting image."

"Haha, no kidding?"

Weird. The convenience store's my only job.

"So you're home now, Dahyun?"

"Yep."

"Working from home?"

"Totally. Remote work's a breeze. Though I have to go in sometimes for meetings."

They arrived soon enough. He flung open the door.

\"Master\! Your disciple's back\! I delivered **inspiration** to the custom—"\

Expecting praise, he called out excitedly, but reality dashed his hopes.

"You worthless idiot! How long does a damn test take?!"

"I delivered... inspiration..."

His words shrank under Gordon's overbearing shout. Getting yelled at right in the face deflated him. Praise me once in a while, you dog of a master.

Gordon ignored him and barreled on.

"Next task! Go gather ingredients!"

"Got it? Now scram!"

Bam! He stared blankly at the slammed door. Kicked out right after completing the last quest? No reward, not even a "good job"?

"...Dahyun."

"Yes?"

"In popularity rankings, where does cook rank among jobs?"

"Um, pretty high for support jobs."

"Main job?"

"...Dead last."

Figures. He nodded automatically.

"Don't you see why? I think I do."

"Haha, but it's popular as a support job."

"Even for support job changes, do they go through Gordon?"

"No..."

"Problem confirmed. Right?"

"Y-yeah... I'll mention it..."

Dahyun replied glumly.

"Sigh."

He brushed off his clothes and stood.

"So, where are the rabbits?"

"East gate out, right into Milan Forest. Popular newbie hunting ground—easy to find."

"Got it."

"Yeah... I'll inquire about it. Others are still working..."

The fairy muttered like an overworked salaryman and poofed away.

As she said, past the east gate, newbies swung swords at rabbits in the nearby forest. Beating innocent bunnies—stress relief? He cracked his neck and stepped in.

"Heh—rabbits. Piece of cake."

* * *

"Huff—huff—"

Right, no basic weapon as a trainee cook.

"This discrimination?"

Others had swords, bows, or staves to whack with. He had nothing—just swinging random sticks from the forest floor. And these rabbits were fast.

"Hahaha! Stay there!"

"Hehe! Get over here, bunny!"

Others dashed endlessly without tiring; he was winded after a sprint. Weaker stamina than my real body. Cooking needs endurance—why trash stats? Few pick cook, so no feedback. They set it weak and got away with it. No butchering tutorial either—trial and error only. Piles of ruined meat. More time butchering than hunting.

"Not easy. Not easy at all."

He muttered, using a stick as a cane to stand. Cooking. No easy path. But amid the hardship, his dream burned brighter. Finally, meaning in my hamster-wheel life? He smiled wearily at the sky.

"Huh?"

The western sky bled red like spilled paint. The crimson sun dragged shadows westward. Hunters packed up for the gate.

"Hey, why's everyone heading back? No more hunting?"

He grabbed a lovey-dovey couple hunting nearby. They blinked at each other, then replied matter-of-factly.

"Night's coming."

"What's bad about night?"

"Visibility sucks—hard to see monsters. Plus, they get way stronger and faster."

"Whoa, really? What now..."

He checked the quest.

"No way I'll make it..."

"Deadline?"

"12 hours left."

"Oof. Might as well quit. Night's brutal."

"Can't. Job change quest."

"Huh? How many?"

"30."

"Th-thirty? Even warriors don't get that."

Plus butchering. He swallowed the pathetic detail.

"Sigh—no choice. Do what I can."

"Take this torch."

The kind couple handed him one.

"Thanks."

* * *

Night rabbits were a different breed. Legs bulging with muscle, eyes blood-red. Hard by day—impossible now. Too fast to chase, and too vicious to approach without stowing the torch. Or else—

"Kiaak! (Damn humans!)"

Splat!

"Gahk—!"

A bloodthirsty super rabbit's body-slam left him near death. Pricey lesson: alone in the dark forest, clutching his side, stifling groans.

He switched to ambushes. In moon-dappled shadows, he stalked stealthily, pouncing from behind for one-by-one kills.

Splat! Thud!

"Die! Die!"

"Kieek! (Sneaky coward!)"

"Huff. Huff. Got it?"

Then moonlight butchering on-site. Visibility low—tricky, time-consuming, low success. Many ruined catches.

"Phew—done. How many left?"

Blood-smeared hand summoned the quest.

...Three in five hours?

"You crazy bastards! How am I supposed to clear this?!"

His scream echoed hollowly in the silent dark forest. Then, a rustle from afar.

"Who's there?"

Crunch. Crunch. Someone emerged from the shadows. Moonlight through trees lit his approaching face.

"Huh?"

"Huh?"