The sunlight spilled into Vincent's room, warm and golden. He stretched, still half-lost in the afterglow of last night's victory. His eyes fell on the plaque carefully placed on his desk, the certificate leaning against the wall beside it. A smile tugged at his lips.
"I really did it," he whispered.
He padded into the kitchen, humming as he cracked eggs into a pan. The smell of sizzling butter filled the small apartment, and for once, he felt light. Every flip of the spatula was easier, every breath freer, the excitement of the competition still running through his veins.
Then—
A sharp chime rang out.
His hands froze mid-motion as a translucent holographic screen shimmered into existence before him.
————————————
[Mission Update]
Mission: Acquire a restaurant
Rewards: | Unlock 2 new recipes | +50 points | +10 increase across Strength, Speed, Agility & Intelligence | +5 increase all core stats | Restaurant Blueprint — Grade C | Support Unit Protocol Unlock|
Time Limit: 10 days
Penalty: Failure will result in the host's termination.
————————————
Vincent blinked. "What?!"
The egg hissed in the pan as he gawked at the words. "Only ten days?!"
[Correct, host.]
"Shit," Vincent muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "I've been so focused on winning the competition I completely forgot about the mission. What do I do?"
The system stayed silent.
"System, now is the worst time for you to be quiet. I need ideas, I need help!"
[Mission completion is solely your responsibility. I will not help with that.]
"Of course not. Why did I even bother asking?" he sighed, leaning against the counter.
The holographic clock on the mission pulsed ominously. Ten days. Ten days till elimination.
He paced the floor, muttering to himself. "Ten days to open a restaurant, or I'm toast. But if I don't show up at the park, my social stats will tank. My customers will think I let fame get to my head." He groaned. "Ugh, this is so stressful."
He stopped mid-step, his eyes lighting up.
"Wait. I'll go to the park for two days—keep the momentum alive. Then I'll spend the other eight hunting for a restaurant spot. Perfect. I'm a genius!"
He pumped his fist, rushing to his room to pack. But then he froze halfway through folding his apron. "Damn, my customers don't even know I'll be there today. Better make a quick post."
He grabbed his phone and typed:
I'm truly grateful to all my loyal customers and fans who supported me throughout this competition. I wouldn't have come this far without your love. Today, your nation's Culinary Master will be serving at the park. Of course, I'm still your Park Chef. I'll be there by 11am sharp. Looking forward to seeing you all!
The post went live.
Buzz!Buzz!Buzz!
Within seconds, his notifications exploded.
"No way!!! We get to eat cooked by the National Culinary Master himself today? I'm rushing there right now!"
"Bro, don't sell out before I arrive. Bring extra stock PLEASE."
"Park Chef forever!! Title or not, I'll camp there to get a plate."
"I've never been to the park before but I'm coming today. No way I'm missing this chance."
"If he's cooking, then forget lunch plans—see you all at the park."
"Someone save me a spot, my exams end at noon. I NEED THAT FOOD."
His phone buzzed so much he had to silence it just to think. A grin spread across his face.
"This is going to be insane."
By the time Vincent arrived at the park, his prediction proved true.
A massive crowd surged near his usual spot. Dozens of new faces mingled with his regulars. Some waved, others shouted his name, and a group of customers helped him haul his cart into position.
"Chef! Chef, over here!"
"Man, look at this crowd. He's a celebrity now!"
"Unbelievable. He was just competing on national TV yesterday!"
Vincent's heart pounded, not from nerves—but from adrenaline. He tied on his apron, his regulars clapping him on the back.
"You didn't even rest after that big win?" one customer asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
Vincent smiled warmly. "How could I? I missed you guys."
The crowd roared with approval.
Orders flew at him faster than he could count. The air filled with sizzling, the aroma of spices, the sharp clang of his utensils. New customers leaned forward, stunned as they took their first bites.
"This… this is insane. Food shouldn't taste this good!"
"No wonder he won. This is on another level entirely."
"He deserves every bit of that title."
One bold customer leaned on the counter. "Chef, are the famous Goth Tortillas on today's menu?"
Another chimed in, "What about Fried Rice Rebellion? I saw those on the show!"
Vincent chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Those will be part of my restaurant's menu. Not yet."
The crowd groaned in disappointment.
"Come on, Chef! Don't tease us like that!"
"Then you better open that restaurant fast!"
Vincent straightened, his gaze sweeping over them. His tone softened, earnest. "After tomorrow, I won't be at the park. I need to find a restaurant—somewhere you'll always be able to find me. A place where I can serve all of you, properly. The Park Chef can't just disappear into TV shows. You all deserve more than that."
For a moment, the entire park was silent. Then the crowd erupted, cheers crashing like waves.
"OPEN THE RESTAURANT!"
"WE'LL BE THERE!"
"DO IT, CHEF!"
Vincent's chest tightened, not with fear—but determination. He had to beat the system's deadline, not only to avoid termination but also because of his customers.
Vincent was halfway through serving a plate when familiar voices called out from the side of the line.
He glanced up—and blinked. "You're here too?"
Standing in the queue, aprons still dusted with flour and grease from their own stalls, were a few of the nearby vendors who usually set up in the park. A pancake guy he'd chatted with once. The couple who sold roasted corn. The dumpling guy who'd first tried his food. Even the old man with the noodle cart.
One of them grinned, crossing his arms. "There's no way we're missing a meal cooked by the National Culinary Master himself."
"Yeah," the noodle vendor chuckled, "yesterday we were shouting at the TV like proud neighbors. Today, we get to eat it fresh."
Vincent laughed, shaking his head. "You guys are unbelievable. Don't you have customers to feed?"
The pancake guy waved him off. "Relax. I told my assistant to hold the stall. For this, I'll make them wait."
When their turn finally came up, they leaned over the counter like excited kids.
"Chef, give me whatever you recommend. Surprise me."
"Two plates for me and my wife—we want to see if you're as good off-camera as on it."
"Make mine extra spicy. Let's see if the Culinary Master handles fire."
Vincent smirked as he plated their food. "Careful. I won't go easy on you."
Vincent cooked until his stock ran dry. Still, latecomers who managed to grab a plate raved, voices ringing with awe.
"I can't believe food can taste like this."
"This is beyond restaurant quality—it's unforgettable."
"No doubt he's the Culinary Master. Absolutely no doubt."
Vincent wiped down the last pan, exhausted yet exhilarated. The energy of the crowd carried him higher than any trophy ever could.
But even as he smiled at his fans, the holographic timer flickered in the back of his mind.
10 days left.