Tokyo, Taito District
The orange-red hue of the setting sun spilled across the bustling streets of
downtown Tokyo. Amid the crowd, a boy in a junior high school uniform rode his
bicycle with ease, weaving through shoppers and pedestrians like a fish darting
through water.
"I'm back," he called out casually.
Tucked away in a quiet alley, a small restaurant sat half-forgotten. The boy
dropped his bicycle out front, not bothering to park it properly. The wooden
door stood ajar, and a faded sign bearing four traditional Chinese
characters—"Chinese Cuisine"—hung solemnly at the entrance.
Inside, the store was narrow, dim, and empty. No one responded to his greeting.
But Xia Yu was used to that.
Two years had passed since that inexplicable night. One moment, he'd made a wish—to eat until he burst. The next, he awoke in the body of a first-year
student at Shiragou Junior High School in Tokyo, Japan. The transition had been
jarring. But after a semester of confusion, panic, and sleepless nights, he
eventually settled into this strange new world.
And so, he made peace with it. What else could a reincarnated soul do but
accept fate? With a wry laugh, he gave himself a personal motto: Be optimistic.
Thankfully, some things had remained unchanged. His name was still Xia Yu, and
he was still Chinese at his core. But unlike his past life—where he had money
and a family to support—in this one, he had only an elderly grandfather. A man
both feared and respected.
Xia Yu walked through the empty restaurant into the backyard. As expected, his
grandfather sat there on a futon, eyes closed, motionless. Hearing the soft
shuffle of footsteps, the old man opened one eye and gestured toward a teapot
on the table beside him.
"You're back. Hot water. Make tea," he ordered in crisp Chinese.
"Yeah, yeah..." Xia Yu muttered.
Rather than using the kitchen faucet, Xia Yu stepped into the kitchen and
scooped water from a large, antique stone tank. He filled the teapot and placed
it on the gas stove. The old tank occupied too much space, and it baffled him
that it hadn't been replaced. But then again, strange things were common in
this world.
As the water began to boil, Xia Yu stood quietly, his gaze locked on the tank.
The setting sun faded, plunging the kitchen into shadows. And then—just as it
had many times before—the water shimmered. Pearlescent glimmers rose from its
surface, floating into the air like tiny, glowing jewels.
He didn't panic. He'd seen it before.
Xia Yu turned off the flame, reached into the tank, and pulled out a smooth,
wet stone the size of an egg. It glowed faintly in his hand, its surface slick
and warm. He stared at it, sighed, and tossed it back into the water without
another glance.
He had asked his grandfather about the tank many times. Every question was met
with silence or a change of subject. After two years of evasion, he'd stopped
asking.
With the kettle ready, Xia Yu returned to the backyard, knelt beside the table,
and prepared the tea. The leaves were purchased from a local shop in
Ameyokocho, near Ueno Station. The tea merchant was an old man
himself—mysterious, quiet, and oddly generous. He always handed Xia Yu a small
pouch from the back room, whispering nothing more than, "This one's for you."
The aroma of steeping tea soon filled the night air.
Xia Yu poured a cup for his grandfather, then one for himself. The moment the
warm liquid passed down his throat, something stirred inside him—a deep, aching
vitality. Years of fatigue seemed to vanish in an instant. For the first time
in ages, he felt truly alive.
Tears welled in his eyes.
"Back to work," the old man said abruptly, eyes already closed.
"...Sure."
Xia Yu wiped away his tears, stood, and glanced at the stack of fresh
ingredients piled near the kitchen. With a sigh, he headed upstairs to change.
As he slid open his closet door, a sharp jolt struck his palm. He recoiled
instinctively. Blood didn't flow, but a clean gash ran across his skin—deep and
strange.
"What the hell...?" he muttered, examining the door. No nails. No
sharp edges. No explanation.
Then, without warning:
Beep. System detection complete. Binding process initiated... completed.
Xia Yu froze.
"What...?"
Host, I'm here.
The voice echoed in his head—cold, synthetic, and unmistakably artificial. He
wasn't hallucinating. This was real.
He took a long breath, calming the sudden spike in his heart rate. "A system?
Seriously?"
Confirmed. System chip has been implanted in the host's cerebral cortex.
Xia Yu stared blankly. Implanted? In his brain?
His eyes flicked back to his hand, then to the back of his head.
"This can't be happening..."
This system is designated for the cultivation of culinary masters—
Beep.
A translucent panel lit up before his eyes:
Host: Xia Yu
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Physical Fitness: Level 9 (Strength, Agility, Reflexes, Endurance)
Cooking Skills: Level 1 – Beginner
Reputation: 0
(Reputation affects popularity, exposure, and achievement recognition.
Reputation points can be exchanged for items in the system store.)
Level 100 is the maximum. You are currently a novice. Capable of basic
ingredient prep, but have never cooked a full dish on your own. In system
terms, you're an apprentice.
Xia Yu's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
A foodie doesn't have to be a chef, he grumbled inwardly. But the truth was,
most foodies would kill for the chance to cook like a pro.
This—this system—could be his turning point.
For the first time in years, Xia Yu smiled with purpose.
His dramatic new life... had finally begun.