Edward stood in the checkout line with a basket full of chicken, bread, eggs, and a few bars of chocolate.
"Man, I really want to eat these chocolates," he muttered under his breath. "I barely ever come grocery shopping because my wallet's usually emptier than my fridge. It's really hard not to grab everything I couldn't afford before."
"Sir, please scan your items!" the checkout lady suddenly called out.
"Oh! Sorry, didn't hear you."
He quickly scanned the items and slid his card through the reader. The soft beep of a successful payment made his heart flutter for a second.
"Here's your receipt, sir," the shop lady said with a polite smile.
Edward took it, grinning slightly as he left. "Yeah, it's time to grind. I'm actually terrible at cooking, but how hard can it be, right?"
"Yes, let's go, Mama.
Back home, Edward dumped the groceries on the counter, rolled up his sleeves, and took a deep breath."Okay. Cooking. I can do this. How hard can it be?"
A glowing interface appeared before his eyes, displaying ingredient icons and step-by-step instructions.
Edward blinked. "Wait— I have a cooking interface? That's… actually kinda cool."
He nodded confidently—then turned the wrong tap and blasted himself in the face with freezing water."Okay… rough start. But recoverable."
Edward puffed out his chest, grabbed a knife, and started chopping. Within seconds, a piece of carrot shot off the board and vanished under the fridge.
"…That still counts, right?"
"Sugar, I swear, if you keep judging me—"
Knock knock.
"Yo, Ed! You alive in there?" Marcus's voice came from the hallway.
Edward groaned. "Man, this guy does not leave me alone."
Marcus stepped inside, froze, and stared. "Bro… it looks like a cooking show got canceled halfway through."
"Very funny. I'm just warming up."
"Sure," Marcus said, already pulling out his phone. "Should I record your downfall for educational purposes?"
Edward ignored him and focused on the counter. "Let's see what we've got. Eggs, chicken, spinach… I can make an omelet, right?"
He cracked the first egg—half of it landed in the bowl, the other half splattered on the counter.
Marcus burst out laughing. "Bro! Even the eggs are rejecting you!"
Edward's eye twitched. "Keep talking, and you'll be the next thing I fry."
After several failed flips, near burns, and a short standoff with a very defiant pan, the smell of something actually edible began to fill the kitchen.
Marcus leaned closer, eyes wide. "Wait… is that food?"
Edward grinned, holding up a plate with a golden omelet, garnished with herbs and slices of fruit."Behold— breakfast, reborn."
A warm pulse traveled through Edward's hands. Knowledge flooded his mind—knife precision, flavor balance, plating finesse. He blinked, suddenly calm, confident… chef-like.
Marcus frowned. "Did you just… ascend?"
Edward smirked, flipping the omelet pan smoothly with one hand. "You could say I found my calling."
Marcus pointed accusingly. "Nah, bro, this ain't fair. Yesterday you couldn't boil water. Now you're acting like Gordon Ramsay possessed you!"
Edward plated another dish and took a proud bite. "That's because I leveled up.