Special Meal

Generally, when someone awakens, they register with the association right away. Rank check. Ability classification. Determination of whether they're a management target. This is especially true if it's an S-Rank ability. "Management" comes before any congratulations.

Because no one knows who might go berserk or use that power for crime.

My case is particularly problematic. I haven't even grasped the full scale of this ability myself yet, so the Awakener Management Association is bound to take interest. Whether that interest helps me or just becomes a hassle—I wasn't naive enough about the world to bet on it. That's why I'd been putting off registration.

The problem is, I couldn't delay it forever. Awakening checks aren't one-time deals. Above a certain age, you have to undergo periodic mana response scans. Most people awaken upon reaching adulthood, but cases of delayed awakening keep popping up steadily, even for someone like me who was judged unawakened at twenty.

The next scan was roughly two months away.

'I need to build up my power somehow by then.'

I'm too weak. I knew that if things stayed like this, I'd have no choice but to be at the association's mercy. I needed to get strong enough to have some say in dealings with them. My ability seemed like an unprecedented "growth-type" power, which only solidified that conviction.

But I had no intention of just sitting around waiting for the quests that popped up once a day, banking on it being "growth-type." This wasn't a game. I wasn't a player—I was the one living it.

The quests were tied to "Room 305." Cleaning. Organizing. Plant care. Dishes. The common thread was clear: housework.

The target was Han Choyeun. Rewards probably varied based on spaces related to her, her daily life, her condition. And if this ability really drew from the folktale Snail Bride, I needed to figure out if it was locked to a specific target... yeah, like if it was bound to Han Choyeun right now.

So to test if the target could change—to probe the quest conditions—I'd headed outside for a simple experiment. I figured there were two possibilities: one, the concept of "home." Two, the specific person "Han Choyeun."

If it was the former, quests should trigger in front of other apartments too. I wandered aimlessly between complexes, deliberately seeking out ones with Awakener registration stickers plastered on doors. Places marked with association seals— not S-Rank, but C-Rank, B-Rank residents.

But nothing. No reaction at all.

"Yeah, yeah, couldn't be that easy."

So, the latter. Probably bound to Han Choyeun as an individual. Or maybe quests for her had to fully wrap up before new ones for others could issue.

Lost in those thoughts, I'd walked for nearly an hour without realizing and ended up near the family home. Yoo Serin. Yoo Raen. Not far, but since I was living independently now, it was where the two of them stayed.

I paused for a moment, then figured since I was here, I might as well stop by and see the family. I turned toward the apartment.

The family complex was brightly lit even at night. Recently built, upscale enough—clean exterior walls, landscaping, lobby. With two B-Rank hunters' income, this was no stretch. And thanks to them, I could afford my own place.

"The door is opening—"

The hallway was quiet. Good soundproofing, only four units per floor—it was to be expected. I naturally headed toward the door.

The familiar front entrance. I pondered what excuse to give Yoo Raen if she asked why I was back already after eating dinner together last night, and stood before it—

...?

Why the hell are you popping up here?

* * *

"......"

I stared blankly at the unbelievable status window.

"SS-Rank...?"

It was absurd. An SS-Rank skill? Wasn't that impossible? The highest known skill rank out there was S+.

Yet this quest window was saying that one click of a skill would hand me a free SS-Rank ability... like some apology popup from a shady mass-produced Chinese game ad.

And the description was even crazier. One meal doubling all stats? World-top buffers had to spam bullshit for hours to squeeze out a 20% boost—and that was to one stat. This click-skill offered double all stats for just a meal. Insane performance.

In other words, this one skill could make me a world-top buffer.

'No idea how much mana it costs, though.'

Probably, the moment I stepped inside for this quest, the Snail Husband status window would switch over, so using mana itself shouldn't be an issue.

Mana at C- from the quest reward. Might be short on mana, but... there must be a reason the quest gave this skill. Higher rank probably means better efficiency. Hoping for the best, I opened the front door and stepped in.

Sightseeing had eaten time—less than three minutes left on the timer. No room for delay.

The door clicked shut behind me. My vision flashed once, and a cool sensation washed over me. Probably the status window switching, mana unlocking, the flow kicking in.

"Hoo."

Time left... 2 minutes 53 seconds.

No time to think. I planted myself in the kitchen center.

"Special Meal."

My heart lurched like it dropped out. The mana I'd just felt for the first time seconds ago—ripped away whole.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Breath came ragged as I stared at the table. Over empty air—light began gathering.

Kitchen tools didn't move. Fridge stayed shut. No ingredients pulled.

Tiny particles converged in midair, shaping forms. Like invisible hands molding ether. Soft golden light swirled, forming plates, then steaming-hot dishes manifesting fully cooked.

No cooking process. No prep. Meals appearing straight from completion.

"Holy... wait... this is..."

My knees buckled. Vision swam. One dish, and my whole ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠body felt drained like severe dehydration. I panted through the crashing fatigue.

Then—

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—

Beep.

Password entry from the entrance.

"...!"

My heart nearly stopped.

'Right, hide...!'

Quest condition. My brain went white.

Stumbling, I fled into the kitchen. How about hiding in the living room? No. maybe the Bedroom? Soon the door opens right into my view.

"Where—"

My eyes caught the small utility room beside the kitchen. Cooking for the family wasn't wrong, but why hide it? No time for complaints—or else I'll fail, and my eyes get gouged.

Time left: 14 seconds. The skill took longer than expected; there's barely any buffer.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—

Click.

Wrong password first try? Re-entering—

'Damn it, Somewhere...!'

I went inside ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the utility room beside the kitchen. There was a washer, dryer, and wall-mounted storage cabinet. I usually saw the sisters often, but hadn't visited them much since their recent move—I took time scanning for any hidey-holes I can use.

Time left... 7 seconds.

I practically crawled, shoving myself into the utility room. Yanked open the cabinet door and burrowed in. The detergent smell stung my nose.

"Hah... ugh..."

Door shut—

And consciousness faded.

* * *

The door swung open, and Yoo Raen sniffed first.

"...Sis."

"What. ...Huh?"

A subtle, deep aroma wafted down the hall. Thick, like from a high-end restaurant. Yoo Serin's eyes sharpened instantly. Hunter's instincts.

Shoes still on, they muted their presence and advanced.

Living room. Clear. Windows locked. Mana residue—

"...It's here."

Yoo Serin murmured low. Their gazes locked on the kitchen.

Tabletop. A perfectly set feast. Steam rising faintly, gloss shining.

Yoo Raen's throat bobbed.

"...What the hell?"

"Don't touch."

She said it, but Yoo Serin's eyes stayed glued too. B-Rank senses sharp, she swept the food with a trace of mana.

Explosive mana signs... none. Toxicity... probably none. Curse waves absent.

If anything—

"Purity's... weirdly high. Doesn't feel like a trap."

Like compressed, finished buff items. Yoo Raen chuckled softly at her follow-up.

"Then someone left us a gift?"

"Doubt it. Only one who knows the code is Gaon."

They scanned surroundings again. Hidden presences. Intrusion marks. House looked utterly peaceful, quiet.

Silence stretched seconds.

Then—Yoo Serin's eyes narrowed.

"...Hold up."

"What?"

"Someone's here."

Faint presence, barely detectable. Clear in normal consciousness, but now—'dimmed,' waves blurry.

"Utility room side."

They moved as one.

Door open—big cabinet by the washer. Cautiously pried the door.

""......""

Yoo Gaon, curled asleep inside. Knees hugged, breathing steady.

"...Why's he sleeping here."

Yoo Raen muttered, baffled. Yoo Serin gazed down a moment.

Pale, but no external injuries. Faint mana presence. Hadn't felt it yesterday... misremembered?

"Passed out."

"No wounds, so probably not from a fight."

"Mana exhaustion."

Silence hung. Yoo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Raen's lip twitched.

"...But why hide to sleep."

Half-crammed in the cabinet, only soft breaths leaking. Wheeze. Wheeze.

Yoo Serin's mouth quirked faintly too.

'Cute.'

'...Why is he cute.'

And like most siblings in Korea would freak over, Yoo Raen and Yoo Serin shared the thought simultaneously. Possible because they'd always been unusually close since kids.

Anyway. They knew Yoo Gaon was hiding something awakening-related. Maybe this tied in.

No grilling him awake. He'll spill when ready.

Yoo Serin eased the cabinet door ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠half-shut.

"Leave him. He'll come out when he wakes."

"Yeah. No prying."

Same wavelength, in sync. Gazes shifted back to the table.

Mana from the food felt pure. No harm vibes. Circumstantially, Yoo Gaon's doing. Gut said skipping it would be the real loss.

Yoo Raen grabbed a knife first, diving into the steak. "Safe to eat?"

"...Yeah. Dig in."

One bite. Two.

Eyes widened in unison.

"...Insane. Fucking delicious?"

"...What is this...?"

Slice steak, chew, swallow—mana surged explosively through their bodies. Fatigue melted away. Muscles tautened, alive.

They nodded wordlessly.

"Yesterday he said support-type, right?"

"Yeah. If he asks if it's ambiguous, definitely not."

Doubts gone. They tucked into the feast with relish.

...

In the utility room cabinet, Yoo Gaon remained oblivious, passed out cold.