Vincent placed the package on the kitchen table with deliberate care, his fingers lingering on the edges of the box as if the slightest movement might trigger something disastrous. His pulse quickened. The note that came with it had been cryptic: "Use this wisely, it may save or ruin you." Whoever sent it knew how to get his attention. He couldn't ignore it, but neither could he be naïve. His recent fame, amplified by Ethan Gray's review, had made him a target. And now… this.
He exhaled slowly, eyeing the package. A gift? A trap? The possibilities spiraled through his mind. Could it explode the second I open it? He'd seen too many movies, read too many stories where something so convenient had deadly consequences. Still, curiosity clawed at him.
Vincent carefully pried the lid just enough to peek inside, then, without hesitation, ducked behind the counter. The kitchen felt suddenly too small, the shadows stretching like fingers across the floor. He waited, every nerve alert, half-expecting a violent flash or deafening bang. Nothing happened. Silence. Too quiet.
Swallowing, he stepped forward, more cautiously this time, and fully opened the box. Inside, nestled in protective padding, were two objects: a vial of light purple liquid and a wide, transparent container filled with tiny green leaves. He picked up the vial first, turning it in his hand, letting the dim kitchen light catch its iridescent glow. Then he held the container, watching the leaves flutter like minuscule wings.
"Hey, system," he called, voice low, tinged with suspicion. "Do you know what this weird purple liquid and a jar of leaves are? And why the note says they could save or ruin me?"
[Purple liquid — Aetherbloom Nectar.
Type: Liquid extract from the Aetherbloom, an extremely rare flower with only a 3% chance of being found in the wild.
Effect: Instantly heals wounds and restores stamina. Permanently doubles vitality and recovery speed (100% increase).
Risk: Supernaturally rare. If groups aware of such powers learn of your possession, you could be hunted relentlessly. Danger risk if found out: 78%]
[Glass jar — contains Syrenthroot.
Type: Rare herb that naturally enhances and transforms the flavor and texture of any dish it is combined with.
Effects: Reacts unpredictably but perfectly with other ingredients to create extraordinary taste profiles and textures impossible to replicate naturally, giving significant competitive edge.
Risk: Unknown to ordinary chefs; if discovered, it would create chaos in the culinary world as every chef would desire it, potentially causing disputes, sabotage, and harm to host.]
Vincent's eyes widened. The vial glimmered in his hand as though holding a universe of possibility. "So… these tiny things could wreak havoc?" he muttered. "No wonder the note sounded so ominous."
The vial glimmered in his hand as though holding a universe of possibility.
"Wait… so if I drink this now, my vitality and recovery speed would double?" he asked, barely able to contain his excitement.
[Correct host. But only use it when necessary. Drinking it now would be a waste as you aren't in any life-or-death situation, and doubling your current vitality and recovery speed stats, which are still low, would be a huge waste of this item.]
"Yeah… you're right," he muttered, exhaling. "I got a little too excited."
He glanced at the leaves. Syrenthroot. A rare herb capable of turning ordinary dishes into miracles of flavor and texture. If he used it right, it could make him untouchable in the upcoming culinary contest. But if word of it leaked… well, that was another kind of chaos entirely.
A chill ran down his spine. "But why deliver this to me? For free? No explanation, no message, just this?" His voice faltered. "Someone's watching me."
[Correct host. From the moment you received Ethan Gray's review, you have been under constant surveillance.]
"What?" Vincent's eyes darted around the room. His stomach tightened. "You mean… you knew I've been watched and didn't tell me?"
[Correct host. The watchers posed no threat, hence no need to inform you.]
Vincent let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, system. From now on, tell me everything. No omissions, no matter how small, whether it's a threat or not."
[Understood, host. Your command will be effectively carried out.]
Vincent blinked, a flicker of humor breaking through the tension. "Wait… I can give commands?"
[Correct host.]
He laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet apartment. "Then I command you to cancel my mission."
[Such commands cannot be carried out. Missions are mandatory and indisputable. As your system, I exist to guide, help, and equip you. I can follow certain commands, but I cannot override missions or penalties.]
Vincent sighed, disappointment flickering across his face. "Nevermind," he muttered, glancing back at the package.
"Hey, system," he said, holding up the jar, "does this Syrenthroot have a measurement limit? Or can I use as much as I want?"
[One leaf is sufficient to ignite perfect flavor for any dish, regardless of quantity. That is why it holds such value.]
Vincent's grin widened, shadows dancing across his determined face. "Well, in that case… this is gonna take forever to finish. This jar's got at least a few thousand leaves to work with. Nice. This is going to be fun."
He smirked, the thrill of the challenge lighting a spark in his chest. "They're not gonna know what hit them." He whispered.
He set the jar and vial on the table carefully, treating them like sacred relics. Each one held untold power. The Aetherbloom Nectar could save him in life-or-death situations, but if others knew he had it… he could be hunted without mercy. Syrenthroot, meanwhile, was his ace in the hole for the culinary contest—a secret weapon that could turn ordinary ingredients into something divine, something impossible to replicate.
[Host, permission to open inventory?]
"What? … I get an inventory too?" he asked, blinking.
[Correct host. Your inventory can hold 520 items. Future upgrades can increase your inventory's capacity.]
"That's awesome. Permission granted."
Immediately, a screen flashed in front of him, and the contents on the table vanished, reappearing on the system interface.
[Now, host, you can access these ingredients from anywhere. All you have to do is open your inventory and take them out, or request that I take them out for you.]
Vincent's eyes gleamed. "Nice. This definitely adds a nice touch to things."
He set the inventory aside, sat down and leaned back slightly, imagining the contest. Ten perfect dishes, the tenth now secured by Syrenthroot's extraordinary power. Aetherbloom Nectar waiting for emergencies. The thrill of possibility mixed with the weight of risk.
He stared at the screen and the virtual leaves, a smile creeping across his face. Time to see just how wild this tenth dish can get.
The note's warning lingered like smoke in his mind. Save or ruin you. That thin line between brilliance and disaster suddenly felt tangible, almost alive. Whoever sent this package had tipped the scales, giving him a chance he couldn't refuse—but with it came a risk he couldn't ignore.
He closed his eyes and whispered, almost to himself, "Alright… let's see what kind of chaos I can create."