The fried rice Lance made was simple... only eggs and rice, with just a bit of chopped green onion for color. But under his practiced hands, the egg stayed soft and fluffy, a warm pale yellow that stirred the appetite. When the spoon sank into the rice, the grains bounced lightly with bits of egg clinging to them, something even Shirou, who cooked often at home, had never seen before.
Intrigued but aware that it was getting late, Shirou stopped thinking and started eating fast.
The texture was unexpectedly refreshing. The eggs were soft enough to crumble with just his lips, yet every grain of rice remained distinct. But there was something else about it, something subtly different from ordinary fried rice.
Gulp, gulp.
Maybe because he was in a hurry, Shirou finished the entire plate in less than five minutes. But after eating, he hesitated to stand up and leave.
"What's wrong, customer? Is there an issue?"
Although this was his first genuine customer, Lance wasn't too nervous, Shirou's mild temperament had that effect. More importantly, his own confidence had grown; this place, this system...it almost felt made for him. The thought made him want to connect with people more, even if communication wasn't his strength.
Seeing Shirou's awkward expression, he even started wondering whether the guy had forgotten his wallet.
"Well, boss, I feel like your fried rice is a little different from what I usually make. It's not just the eggs and rice… sorry, I can't quite explain it."
Shirou struggled to find the right words. It was simply a feeling.
Lance, who had been making fried rice all of last night, was puzzled. He knew his dish wasn't exactly "normal," but what did he mean by not just egg and rice? The only other ingredient was scallion, and that was the F-grade bunch he'd bought himself at the market—not special at all.
Then something clicked.
"You're probably tasting the sourness, right?"
"Sourness?"
Shirou blinked, confused, then thought carefully. The savory flavor still lingered in his mouth but now that he paid attention, yes, there was a faintly refreshing hint of acidity.
"Last night I practiced making fried rice for hours, tried so many batches I got sick of it. So finally, I added a little lemon juice while cooking. Just a few drops, it barely changed the flavor, but made the taste feel much lighter."
Adding other seasonings to fried rice wasn't strange. There were countless varieties - Yangzhou, beef, seafood… it was a dish with infinite possibilities. To Lance, using lemon juice seemed perfectly reasonable. His teacher, had once taught that lemon helped cut the eggy smell in omelets.
Shirou suddenly understood. The secret behind the light, non-greasy flavor was a drop of lemon juice!
But before he could say anything, Lance spoke again.
"Oh, right, customer, earlier you looked like you were in a hurry…"
He wanted to ask if Shirou really had time to sit here spacing out, but it wouldn't be polite. It wasn't long before Shirou realized what time it was and his expression changed drastically.
"Ah!! I'm gonna be late! Boss sorry! My money's right here, I'll pay and run!"
Grabbing his school bag, Shirou practically bolted out the door. Lance watched him go, half laughing at how flustered he looked.
"Main Quest: Rookie Chef."
"Reward: Points ×10."
"Customer Satisfaction — 96."
"Bonus Rewards:"
① Points ×5
② Recipe: Tempura."
The standard quest reward was expected, but the bonus startled him. Ninety-six satisfaction wasn't bad at all, apparently, the system used percentages. The points made sense… but an extra recipe?
Did I just get a drop from killing a monster?
The thought was ridiculous yet somehow fitting. Still, random bonuses from satisfied customers seemed to be how it worked, so he just shrugged and accepted it.
"Tempura. Difficulty: F."
It looked easy, but remembering how even fried rice barely reached 75% completion with an ingredient boost, Lance understood that even the simplest dish could take deep skill to master.
Setting the recipe aside, he tidied up the dining area and planned to return to training. But then his phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Huh? My delivery's here already? Gotta love local express shipping."
Glancing at the clock, he decided to head out around ten to return his old apartment keys and pick up the package. Still, he couldn't help a small sigh.
"Too bad it's not a cute delivery girl this time…"
Muttering to himself, he returned to the kitchen. The flames danced in the stove, calming his mind once more.
.
.
.
Shirou managed to reach school on time. After classes ended, he tried reproducing Lance's fried rice at home. Adding lemon juice did improve the flavor, but too much made it overpowering, too little made no difference. He couldn't help admiring how precisely Lance had struck the perfect balance.
Now I'm curious about that apple pie… and that Hunter's Buffet… but maybe not right now. Need to save money first.
Despite being in high school, living alone made him frugal like a homemaker.
Then...
"Shirou! I'm here to hang out!"
The voice shouted from outside before he could respond. Rapid footsteps followed, and a woman in a long skirt burst into the house, grabbing her hem with both hands as she charged straight into the kitchen.
"Eh?! Freshly made fried rice? Awesome! I'm eating!"
She had short brown hair that framed her lively face, her beige dress swaying as she plopped down with infectious energy—maybe a bit too much energy.
As she started eating, she grumbled endlessly.
"That old man's driving me crazy! Tried to set me up on a blind date again! And that winter melon of a guy—ugh! Takes me to a Western restaurant, acts like some big gentleman, can't drink, can't eat... what a waste of a day!"
Listening to Fujimura Taiga ranting, Shirou could only smile wryly.
He placed small side dishes and a beer in front of her, then returned to the stove.
"Fujimura-sensei, your grandfather only worries about your future…"
Before he could finish, she cut him off.
"I told you, just act normal when we're at home! You're as stiff as that old man lately. So boring now that you're a high schooler, you're turning into him!"
Seeing her sulk, Shirou wisely went quiet.
But after a few bites, Taiga tilted her head.
"Hey, Shirou~ this fried rice tastes better than usual, doesn't it?"
"You noticed? Actually… I almost overslept this morning. Rushed to school, took a shortcut, and found a small hidden restaurant. The owner had this unique method for fried rice, so I tried it. But I still can't match his flavor."
He sounded disappointed, cooking was one of the few things he took pride in.
Good thing Lance couldn't hear him, or he might've spit blood. The proportions had taken him dozens of failed batches to perfect.
Taiga, lying beside the TV with her beer, blinked and grinned.
"Shirou, you're too modest~ I like your version way better than the fancy stuff at that Western place."
…
Lance didn't know about their conversation, and even if he did, it wouldn't have mattered. What mattered was following the system's path forward.
At that moment, he was thrilled...his ordered iron ingots had arrived. He'd even managed to return his apartment lease. Now, holding a heavy box of metal, he stood before the shop, silent.
Though he'd already decided to commit to this new life, realizing he truly had no more ties to his old world stirred a faint melancholy.
But once he stepped inside, that faded instantly—replaced by excitement.
"Side Quest: First Forging."
"Description: The first step for any blacksmith is to create a proper weapon."
"Objective: Forge a weapon rated E or higher."
"Difficulty: D."
"Reward: Refining Furnace."
Back in the other world, Lance had forged one weapon before—but hadn't brought it back. Now with fresh materials and a proper quest, his hands were practically shaking with anticipation.
A refining furnace, huh? Probably for processing ore.
Dumping the ingots out, he sorted through them, discarding the defective ones below F grade. Then, full of excitement, he stepped toward the forge.
If staying with the shop was about survival, becoming a blacksmith, a legendary craft from stories was his true dream.
Whoosh!
Flames roared to life as Lance gripped tongs in one hand, setting an ingot onto the heat. In the other, his hammer gleamed under the light.
Clang!
The sharp ring of metal filled the air, sending adrenaline through his veins.
Forging was tedious, the initial refining step alone tested both stamina and patience... but he didn't care. Passion drove him.
Strike after strike, sparks flew across the workshop. He barely noticed his dry, cracked lips or aching shoulders. Only when the system chimed again did he pause.
A customer.
He glanced at the clock, it was already evening.
Looking down at the remaining pile, he saw his once-full box of ingots reduced to a third, each now refined and gleaming faintly with metallic light.
"Refined Iron Ingot – Grade: E."
Perfect. E-grade material. Enough to give him a real shot at success.
But with the system beeping insistently, he wiped his hands and left the forge.
To his surprise, the customer waiting in the restaurant was a woman, unexpected for this late hour.
Still, he smiled professionally.
"Welcome."
But the woman didn't respond.
(Chapter End)