Effort's Crispy Reward

Effort is always rewarded. But that reward comes in the form of the first crispy bite. And the hot, savory juices and oil seeping out between them.

Chicken after two whole weeks for me. And yet, just the smell alone made my mouth water. So what about Aris?

"Th-this... this is delicious enough to die for…!"

I'd bought the chicken and then bolted up the mountain at full speed. My top speed exceeds 50 kilometers per hour. Delivery took less than 30 minutes. Plus, the Inventory's 20x slower time flow. Actual elapsed time: 1 minute 30 seconds. It was still steaming hot, just like fresh out of the fryer.

All for this moment. It had been a full 60 seconds since I handed her that drumstick, but Aris still hadn't snapped out of the afterglow of freshly fried chicken.

"How's that! The pinnacle of modern technology!"

This wasn't just some cheap national pride trip. It was the culmination of culinary culture, from Hood's Pride Chicken to Korea itself. The absolute epitome of cutting-edge food tech!

"H-ha… just one more…"

I gladly handed her another piece. This time, a breast. Contrary to popular misconception, freshly fried chicken breast has its own charm. You tear into the moist, spicy-marinated breast before the juices can escape. The meat shreds along the grain inside that wavy, crispy skin. The preserved moisture amps up the flavor of the tender flesh, topped with that perfect crunch.

"Mmm…! Mmmmmm!!"

Yeah, first-timers can't keep their heads straight. A lifetime first with chicken. This was straight-up assault on the taste buds. A battle you could never win.

But even the juiciest fried breast has that oily, salty finish from the batter you can't escape.

"But the most familiar fix is always the answer."

Ice-cold cola, like it came straight from the freezer. I'd wrapped it in ice packs just for this. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The crisp refreshment and sweetness perfectly cut through the grease and salt.

Aris took a sip, then another from the cola I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠handed her.

"Kyah!!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a little squeal of delight. Then she caught my playful grin and her cheeks flushed red.

"Heh heh."

"D-don't laugh!"

"Heh heh."

"D-don't make that weird laugh!"

"Here, cheers."

I cracked open my cola.

"Ah, hits different with beer."

I can't hit that spot often. It's the local legend for frying. Today was doable since it wasn't a holiday by modern standards—just a weekday.

"N-no alcohol! Yumia's too young!"

"What age do you think I am?"

I've gotta be at least ten bowls of rice cake soup past whatever you're imagining. I'd be an adult in like two years here anyway.

Sigh, fine, you win. I opened the chicken box.

"Eating real food like this in the dorm… it's against regulations…"

"It's fine. Leave the door open, the smell'll fade."

The living room and bedrooms are separate anyway. We spread out on the table like last time and dug in.

Aris savored every bite like she couldn't bear to waste a scrap. But her portion was small, so no seconds. I'd already eaten dinner, so one bird was plenty for me too.

Aris asked mid-bite.

"Yumia, where on earth do you get food like this?"

"Huh?"

"And kept so fresh, like it just came out. Is this your unique magic too?"

"Uh… yeah."

"Is this from Kyung-gi-do too?"

"More precisely, Korea."

To be exact, Earth… but no need to go that far.

"You seem more and more like someone from another world every time I look."

"I am from another world."

I told her straight up.

"Pardon?"

I could practically hear the gears turning in Aris's head. Then she came to her own conclusion.

"Is there a warp portal nearby? To another continent?"

"…Something like that."

Pretty close, actually. Minus the part about it being another world.

"Wow! I wanna go sometime."

I tore into my drumstick and muttered offhand.

"Ah. Maybe head back to my old place sometime."

Haven't been in ages. Reinhart Dormitory's so spacious and comfy, I forgot about it. Honestly, the dorm beats it by a thousandfold—no desire to go back. No need to grind that hard anymore either.

"What was where you lived like?" Aris asked.

How to put this.

"Mm. Stupidly huge, no hot water."

"You call that a house?"

No, plenty of places here don't have hot water either. You just don't know, Aris.

"Eh, had a bed and food spot, so it was fine."

Not even polite flattery could call it nice. It was scraped together from every scrap we had. Livable? Debatable.

"Ugh, enough house talk."

"Wanna come to my place sometime?"

"Huh? Can I?"

Never left Reinhart before, come to think. Sounds like a good experience—wanna check it out.

"But I wanna see your old place too."

"Well… you could, I guess."

Dunno if it's actually possible. Would be nice if you could. Could toss you in the tower, level up together. A top-tier healer in the party? Perfect.

The tower has party-only floors.

Bet there's hell mode ones too…

"Wish I could bring you along."

I answered without thinking, then it hit me.

Wait. I'm fine, but what about the Cacterrorian snoozing in my Inventory?

Didn't it cross over just fine?

"…Huh?"

Real party play? The Inventory says no hostile lifeforms. So friendlies should be good, right?

Perfect timing—space just expanded. Room for one or two people easy. Even lanky Karnaroph could squeeze in.

…For real?

"Whoa… it really piles up like this…!"

Aris and I were heading to turn in our thick stacks of paper to Karnaroph.

Basic Attack Magic practice assignment—also known as insanely thick report hell.

"Didn't think it'd be this bad."

Magic assignment submission format. Higher numbers mean simpler forms; Form 1 is super complex, barely used outside labs.

And he wanted Form 1.

Nearly killed me.

Casting magic ten times a day? Piece of cake. Figuring out why it worked, proving the formula's impact? Insane.

Karnaroph was dead set on grinding me.

"Change locations and mana density every report. Switch chants and mana patterns every three days."

"That's unfair…"

"Gave the top student the same. Special assignment for top two—think of it that way."

He smirked like a villain.

This bastard… he's enjoying it…!

I knew the look. Legal sadism in action.

Turned a tough assignment nuclear. Perfect success? Just explain why. I was confident.

Swapping locations/density? Fine, recalculate.

"Good assignment. But…"

Changing chants/patterns constantly? Pure madness. Skills skyrocketed geometrically, sanity tanked.

"At least weekends and holidays were exempt…"

Even with Aris's help, last week ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had no afternoons. Lucky the other assignments were Cacterrorian and imperial history. Cacterrorian's tame now—rolls belly-up for me. History? Skipped. No grades needed. Just pass remedial basics.

We submitted. Karnaroph skimmed ours.

"Noted. You're one of the few who followed format properly. Tsk. Can't even do that?"

Hm. Should've skipped it. Could've copied seniors.

Outside, chatter.

"Padded with seniors' reports."

"That even allowed?"

I shivered.

Th-that method…!

Brain freeze blocked dirty tricks. Should've done that.

"Wh-what do you mean!"

Aris snapped, efforts insulted.

"Doesn't make sense."

"Class just started, Karnaroph drops this workload?"

"Ugh…!"

Two guys pushed with grim faces. I got it—deep empathy.

Yeah, doesn't. Go complain for me.

I cheered silently.

"Tell Karnaroph. Too much."

"Form 1's for researchers!"

More joined, backing Aris. Momentum shifted. She teared up.

Sorry, Aris.

Need them. Too scared ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠myself.

Remembered Karnaroph's monstrous mana ripple. Face him pre-tower grind? Dust in 3 seconds.

But group voice? Different.

Go! Charge!

Blast complaints at him! Smash dreams against Karnaroph! I won't forget your sacrifice! One side dies—you or assignments!

Then, opposing voice.

"What? Whining from trash who couldn't even do it?"

"Wha… C-Carter?"

50 silvers… no, Robert Carter. The waxed slick-back guy who'd offered a contract.

His jab flipped sentiment. Aris's side swelled. She panicked as accidental rep for diligence.

"Right. Effort yourself."

"Copying's no brag."

"Ours aren't perfect, but ours."

"Ueng."

He'd snatched my scraps post-submission. Now waving to the crowd.

"Behold the runner-up's report. Even scraps are crystal clear."

They saw. Data too low-quality, discarded despite all-nighters. Karnaroph's strict standards for us. Had to ditch with tears.

"Th-that's…?"

"That's runner-up effort."

"N-no."

Wait. Something's off!

No! Karnaroph's scheme!

They cheered my blood/sweat anyway.

"Runner-up!"

"Youngest werewolf hunter!"

"Drunk rampage rumors? Bull!"

"Yumia! Yumia! Yumia! Yumia!"

Robert grinned at me.

"Impressive, Yumia. Not just talent."

I clutched my neck.

Why! Why does it always end like this!!