Returning home, Noah closed the door behind him and placed the groceries on the kitchen counter.
It was a small kitchen, with basic necessities to live in the modern day.
He placed the stocks in the fridge whilst leaving the portion he wanted to cook.
Noah spread his ingredients across the counter.
Chicken breasts, garlic, onions, and the noodles, his loyal companions through the darkest times.
Tonight, we feast like actual humans.
He propped his phone against a water glass and pulled up an online tutorial: "Perfect Juicy Chicken Breast for Complete Beginners."
"Hey guys, Chef Marcus here," the unreasonably handsome man on screen announced. "Today we're making foolproof chicken that's crispy outside, juicy inside!"
Noah squinted at the screen. "Your smile is suspicious, Marcus."
He followed along, chopping garlic with the precision of someone who'd never properly held a knife before.
The chicken sizzled as it hit the pan, sending a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.
"That's normal," Noah assured himself, even as Chef Marcus's chicken remained suspiciously smoke-free.
"Smoke means flavour."
His phone pinged with a notification. An email from the hospital about his father's upcoming treatments.
Noah glanced at it, momentarily distracted—just long enough for the garlic to transform from golden brown to charcoal black.
"No, no, no!" He yanked the pan off the burner, waving away smoke.
Chef Marcus continued smiling from the screen, oblivious to the disaster unfolding in Noah's kitchen. "Now we'll add our perfectly caramelised garlic..."
"Perfectly cremated is more like it," Noah muttered, scraping the blackened bits into the trash.
He started caramelising the garlic once again.
This time, he watched the pan like a hawk stalking prey.
The chicken started to brown beautifully. Noah's face showed a small, victorious smile.
The underside was black as midnight.
"How?" he demanded of the universe. "I was watching you the entire time!"
Chef Marcus spoke once again, from the phone screen. "See how gorgeous that colour is?"
Noah threw a dish towel at his phone, knocking it face-down on the counter.
Damn it. I can't cook to save. my. life!
He took a deep breath.
Noah lowered the heat. Took out some fresh chicken, whilst giving the chicken his full attention.
The noodles boiled peacefully in a separate pot, the only cooperative element in this kitchen rebellion.
Ten minutes later, something miraculous happened. The chicken... looked edible. Golden brown.
Noah poked it suspiciously with a fork. "Are you messing with me?"
The chicken didn't answer, which he took as a good sign.
He plated his masterpiece—pan-seared chicken over noodles, with the vegetables he'd hastily steamed.
The first bite nearly brought tears to his eyes.
It wasn't Chef Marcus's quality. The chicken was slightly dry on the edges, and he'd definitely oversalted.
Noah ate at his small table, one eye on his phone, watching some online videos.
By the time he finished eating, he felt like he had accomplished something great.
I cooked an edible meal.
The thought almost brought tears to his eyes.
Small victories were always emotional.
Noah washed his dishes, laid out clothes for tomorrow, and set his alarm.
Noah woke up the next day, rolled out of bed, and shuffled to the bathroom.
With his morning routine complete, he gathered his laundry and headed downstairs to the building's coin-operated machines.
While the old, crappy washer churned his clothes, Noah hunched on a plastic chair, scrolling through social media. Short videos flashed by, whether it was comedy videos, cooking fails, cat videos, or people far more successful than he living their best lives.
Thirty minutes later, he returned to his apartment with clean clothes.
Without wasting time, Noah stepped through the portal and appeared in his shop.
His shelves were no longer empty.
Ten loaves of bread lined one shelf, their golden crusts gleaming in the morning light. Alongside the loaves, five glass bottles of iced tea were also sitting there.
This place looks like a real store now. A poor one, though.
Noah approached the iced tea display, lifting one bottle to examine it.
The glass felt cool against his palm.
I can get a boost in my attributes the first time I try a new product. Let's see what this one does.
He unscrewed the cap, releasing a subtle, sweet scent that made his mouth water.
Noah took a cautious sip, then froze as flavour exploded across his tongue.
It was a peach flavour, but not like any peach he'd ever tasted. This was peach as it existed in dreams, in perfect summer ads.
Sweet but not cloying, crisp yet somehow smooth, with complex notes that reminded him of honey, vanilla, and something utterly foreign, something that could only be described as the taste of magic itself.
He swallowed, and a rush of coolness spread through his body, settling behind his eyes like a gentle wave.
He let out a soft moan that escaped involuntarily.
[You have gained +1 Intelligence]
"Oh my god," he whispered, staring at the bottle. "Did I just get smarter from drinking tea?"
"System, what just happened?"
[Host has gained +1 permanent Intelligence attribute from the first consumption of a new product.]
"So I'm... smarter now? Just like that?"
[Yes and no. Whilst the intelligence stat increases your cognitive processing capacity, problem-solving skills, memory recall and more. It's not by a large margin, it's very minute. This is because the intelligence stat is more focused on your affinity to mana.]
"So it mostly increased mana-related skills? But also increased my intelligence, although subtly. Right?"
[Yes, host. That's what I just said.]
"Okay, calm down. No need to be so sassy, I was just making sure." Noah rolled his eyes.
Noah took another sip, despite knowing that he wouldn't receive another boost.
This drink is simply too good, if it enters the market on earth it will dominate. Without the stat boosts. Just the flavour
"System, when can I unlock more products in the shop slot?"