Ruho's eyes opened to sunlight streaming through a narrow window. Real sunlight. Not the dim glow of two moons or the oppressive darkness of a crocodile burrow. Actual, honest-to-god daylight that hurt to look at.
He was lying on cold stone floor. His back ached. His neck was stiff from sleeping at a weird angle. But he was alive, healed, and in his own castle.
His stomach growled. Loudly. Aggressively. The kind of growl that suggested his digestive system was about to start consuming his other organs for sustenance if he didn't eat something soon.
Food. He needed food. And he was in a castle with a kitchen. Multiple kitchens, probably, if Vexor's enthusiasm about the design was anything to go by.
Ruho pushed himself to his feet, his joints popping, and looked around the hallway properly for the first time. Stone walls. Wooden doors. Tapestries depicting what looked like medieval battle scenes. Torches that were somehow still burning despite the fact that it was clearly daytime and nobody had been here to maintain them.
Magic. Everything was magic. Fine. Whatever.
He made his way down the hallway, past doors he didn't bother opening, until he found the staircase. Down to the first floor. The entrance hall opened up into several directions, and Ruho followed his nose or tried to, but there were no smells of cooking because of course there weren't—until he found a doorway that led to what had to be the kitchen.
It was massive. Easily the size of his entire Seoul apartment. A huge stone hearth dominated one wall, big enough to roast an entire pig. Wooden counters lined the other walls, with cabinets above and below. There was a large wooden table in the center, probably meant for food preparation. Pots and pans hung from hooks on the ceiling. A window let in natural light, illuminating dust motes floating in the air.
And absolutely, completely, utterly no food.
Ruho checked the cabinets. Empty. He checked the pantry a whole separate room off the kitchen. Empty. He checked what looked like a cold storage area, some kind of magically cooled chamber built into the wall. Empty.
"VEXOR!" Ruho shouted at the ceiling. "WHERE'S THE FOOD?!"
Vexor's presence materialized in his consciousness, sounding confused. "Food? What food?"
"THE FOOD!" Ruho gestured wildly at the empty kitchen. "You said this place was fully furnished! You said it had everything I needed! Where's the food?!"
"I furnished the structure with equipment and amenities," Vexor explained calmly. "Cooking implements, dishes, storage facilities, plumbing, furniture. I created a functional living space."
"A functional living space needs FOOD!"
"I'm the Divine Trainee God of Kingdoms and Architecture," Vexor said, his tone suggesting he was explaining something obvious to a child. "I build structures. I don't stock larders. That would fall under the domain of provisioning, which is not my area of expertise."
"You gave me a KITCHEN with NO FOOD!" Ruho's voice was getting shrill. "What's the point of a kitchen if there's nothing to cook?!"
"The kitchen is for you to prepare meals once you acquire ingredients," Vexor said. "It's a workspace. A tool. I provided the tool. The ingredients are your responsibility."
Ruho wanted to scream. Wanted to punch the stone wall but he'd probably just break his hand again. "Fine. FINE. Who do I talk to about getting food? There has to be a food god, right? Someone who handles this?"
"That would be Gordon," Azirel chimed in. "Divine Trainee God of Cooking. You already met him. Well, you gave him an offering. He'd be the one to talk to about food provisions."
"Great!" Ruho said, his voice dripping with false enthusiasm. "Let me talk to Gordon then! Gordon! Hey Gordon! I need food!"
Silence.
"Gordon?" Ruho tried again. "You there?"
More silence.
"He's not answering," Ruho said, his patience wearing dangerously thin. "Why isn't he answering?"
"Oh, uh," Azirel said, his tone awkward. "Gordon's currently busy. He's feeding the Leviathan."
Ruho blinked. "The what?"
"The Leviathan," Azirel repeated. "It's this massive sea serpent that lives in the Abyssal Trench on the eastern side of the planet. Absolutely enormous we're talking like, two hundred miles long. It only eats once every six months, but when it does eat, it requires a very specific preparation. Gordon's one of the only gods who can prepare food at that scale, so he's been down there for the past three days working on—"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE LEVIATHAN!" Ruho shouted. "I CARE ABOUT ME! I'M STARVING! I haven't eaten anything except one raw egg and a bite of raw venison in TWO DAYS! I need food NOW!"
"Well, Gordon's the food guy," Azirel said helplessly. "And he's busy. So unless you want to wait another day or two until he's done with the Leviathan feeding—"
"Can't you just spawn me some food?" Ruho interrupted. "You spawned me a healing potion! You spawned the wheel interface! Just spawn some bread or something!"
"That's different," Azirel said. "Healing potions are items. Interface elements are divine tools. Actual food sustenance that a mortal consumes that falls under Gordon's domain. I'd be stepping on his territory if I started spawning food. There are rules about this kind of thing. Divine jurisdiction. I can't just go around creating stuff that's supposed to come from other gods' domains."
"So let me get this straight," Ruho said, his voice dangerously quiet. "You can drop me from orbit. You can spawn potions. You can create entire planets. But you CAN'T make me a sandwich because of BUREAUCRACY?"
"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad—"
"IT IS BAD!" Ruho exploded. "I'm in a giant castle with eight bedrooms and six bathrooms and a massive kitchen and NOTHING TO EAT! I can't hunt because everything on this island is either too fast or too big or WANTS TO KILL ME! I can't forage because I don't know what's safe to eat! And the ONE GOD who could help me is busy feeding a two-hundred-mile-long sea monster!"
"The Leviathan is very important to the ecosystem—" Azirel started.
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE ECOSYSTEM!"
"You're being really ungrateful right now," Azirel said, his tone shifting to defensive. "I gave you a second chance at life! I dropped you into an amazing fantasy world! You have a CASTLE! Do you know how many people would kill for their own castle?"
"A castle doesn't matter if I STARVE TO DEATH in it!" Ruho shot back. "What good is thirty thousand square feet of living space if I'm too dead to enjoy it?!"
"You're not going to starve to death," Azirel said, but he sounded less certain now. "You'll figure something out. You're resourceful. You survived a Gigantosuchus. You can handle finding food."
"Oh, I'M resourceful now?" Ruho laughed bitterly. "I'm the guy who has twenty mana points and a jump spell! I'm the guy who got chased by a crocodile and fell off a cliff and tore his ACL! You think I'm going to successfully hunt something with these skills?"
"Well—"
"And even if I did catch something, I don't know how to cook it! I've never cooked anything in my life! I lived on convenience store kimbap and instant ramen! I don't know how to skin an animal or start a fire or do any of that survival shit!"
"The hearth is already—"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE HEARTH!" Ruho was pacing now, his bare feet slapping against the stone kitchen floor. "I need FOOD! Actual, edible, prepared FOOD! Not equipment! Not potential! FOOD!"
His stomach growled again, emphasizing his point with a sound like a dying whale.
"Can you at least ask Gordon when he'll be done?" Ruho said, trying to rein in his anger. "Please? Just... just tell him I'm desperate. Tell him I'll give him another offering. Tell him whatever he wants to hear. I just need food."
"I can try," Azirel said reluctantly. "But he's really focused on the Leviathan right now. It's a huge deal. If he messes up the preparation, the Leviathan could go on a rampage and destroy several coastal cities. So he's probably not going to—"
"TRY!" Ruho shouted. "JUST TRY! WHAT'S THE WORST THAT CAN HAPPEN?!"
There was a pause, and then Azirel's presence faded slightly, like he was directing his attention elsewhere.
Ruho stood in his empty kitchen, in his stupid castle, on his plateau in the middle of an island that was seven million square kilometers, and tried not to cry from sheer frustration.
He had walls. He had a roof. He had running water and multiple bathrooms and eight bedrooms he didn't need.
And absolutely nothing to eat.
"This is the worst afterlife ever," he muttered to the empty kitchen.
His stomach growled in agreement.