It's the year 2007, and I'm laying in my bed, extremely annoyed. Why, you ask? Because Eggy here has developed an annoying habit recently.
Every morning it will float up to my chest, then land on it, then slowly continue to increase its weight. This thing might look like a chicken egg, but it can easily reach thirty kilograms, which is its original weight.
After a decent analysis by Test, the conclusion she reached is that it's checking whether I'm alive or not, reminiscent of some cats from my old world.
"Eggy, I'm up, please get off," I say as it becomes uncomfortable to breathe.
This egg may end up killing me in my sleep one day. And I am a growing boy I need my beauty sleep! Need to maximize the genes my parents have given me. In this world, there's a good chance I'll cross 1.82 meters. From my estimates, my dad is almost 2 meters tall.
I think about going back to sleep when I hear rhythmic clicking sounds. Oh no, that sound at this time could only mean one thing the other menace to my sleep cycle is coming. Speaking of which, after a few years of binge-watching TV shows from my old world using autopilot mode, it got repetitive, and I started missing the nothingness that comes with sleep.
Soon my door bursts open.
"Good morning, cream pie! Mama has brought you breakfast!" She unceremoniously brings me breakfast in bed. Yay... I think to myself sarcastically. It's not that I don't like her gesture it's just the fact that this world's cuisine leaves a lot to be desired. They have the spices but choose to only use sugar for everything. The different kinds of sweets will make you crazy.
I have never been a fan of sweet food. The other prevailing dish is meat with salt, butter, and pepper or at least, that's all I can taste.
Soon my mother begins spoon-feeding me pancakes. I think in my mind that I wish she had another target to vent her love on. She really needs another kid. Alas, after thirty years of trying, she only managed to get me, and that's only because the World System gave me to her. Come to think of it, how old is my mom? Age in this world is very skewed, especially if you have mana. Every time I asked mother, she replied with "never ask a lady her age." She looks no older than twenty-five, but I have a gut feeling she's over a hundred. Test agrees with me after using her analyzing abilities, but that's just an estimation.
My thoughts are interrupted by Test. "Affirmative, user has accumulated sufficient blessings."
I say to Test in my mind, "Test, could you elaborate?"
"Affirmative. Higher angels can accumulate one blessing per solar cycle of Eldoron. All the blessings originally accumulated by Testarossa were reset by the World System. Current available blessings: seven out of seven."
"Wait, let me get this straight. If I use one of my blessings, my mother will have another child?" I say.
"Affirmative. According to my estimates, a blessing from a greater angel is what allowed the old emperor of Avaloria to produce Eleonora. Do you wish to consume one blessing?" Test responds.
Well, now that I think of it, I have overheard mother saying she wanted another baby when I was still around three years old and staying in their room after the assassination incident. That fact is the straw that broke the camel's back and allowed me to get my own room again.
Did she just refer to Eleonora as some kind of product? Angels really don't have any tact. "Yes, but no light works, please. I don't want anyone to know."
"Affirmative. Blessing applied. Blessings remaining: six out of seven," Test says.
Now that that's been sorted out, I need to do something about the food situation. Eggy is hovering next to my bed, slightly bobbing up and down. It reminds me of sliced pieces of boiled eggs in ramen.
Wait, if this world doesn't have ramen, I can just invent it. By invent, I mean make Test search the web and use autopilot to make it. I just need to deal with one obstacle that's currently changing the flowers in the flower pot in my room.
I clear my throat. "Mother?"
She ignores me.
"Um... mother?"
Not again. Well, Leo, time to swallow your pride and say it. This is for a bowl of ramen.
"Mommy?"
She rushes over and hugs my head. "Yes, my sweet cream pie?"
"Can I be allowed in the kitchen?"
"Why would you want to do such a thing? That's not a place for kids to play. If you want to eat something, I'll order the chefs to make it, or I'll make it myself." She nods to herself in a comical way as she goes into deep thought, letting go of my head.
OK, this is not working. Time to bring out my special weapon.
"Please, Mama." I look at her with sparkling eyes.
She acts like she's been stabbed in the chest. Looks like I landed a critical hit.
I see her struggling with the decision for a while. Finally, she speaks. "OK, but only if Mommy is with you."
"Can we go now?"
"Um, I guess we can." She looks at Patricia. When their eyes meet, she nods slightly and takes out some casual clothes, helping me freshen up and change.
Soon an entourage of me, my mother, head maid Patricia, my personal guards Bob and George, and finally one levitating egg and its red velvet cushion marches toward the kitchen.
As we enter the kitchen, I'm greeted by the sight of several chefs who immediately bow upon seeing us. The head chef, a portly man with graying hair, looks particularly nervous about having royalty in his kitchen.
He says in a trembling voice, "Was there something wrong with the food? Was it not to your liking?"
I look up at him and say, "No, I'm here to play."
He lets out an audible sigh of relief.
"Test,can you search for a proper ramen recipe and use autopilot mode to cook it" I think to myself.
"Affirmative. Recipe located. Engaging autopilot at your command when ready," Test responds.
I clear my throat and put on my most innocent voice. "I want to try making something special. Can everyone give me some space?"
The chefs look confused but step back as my mother nods approvingly. "My cream pie is so talented! Let Mama watch you cook!"
"Test, showtime," I think as I approach the counter where various ingredients are laid out.
Under Test's control, my small hands begin moving with surprising precision. Since noodles don't exist in this world, Test starts from scratch. Flour levitates gracefully through the air, mixing with eggs and water in perfect proportions. The dough kneads itself under Test's telekinetic control, stretching and folding until it reaches the ideal consistency.
My mother gasps as she watches the dough roll itself out into thin sheets, then slice into perfect long strands. "Leo! When did you learn such advanced magic?"
"What do you mean, Mother?" I say, playing dumb while internally telling Test to tone it down.
She thinks out loud, "Maybe the rumors of you being loved by mana are true." Realizing her mistake, she immediately orders everyone, "No one speaks about my son's magical skills! I don't want any gossip about this." She says the last part looking at the maids.
The bone broth requires the most finesse. Test carefully levitates a large pot, filling it with bones and aromatics. Then, using precise fire magic, she maintains the perfect temperature for slow cooking. The flames dance underneath the pot in mesmerizing patterns.
Now comes the egg preparation. I gesture toward some chicken eggs, and they begin floating toward the boiling pot. Eggy, who had been hovering curiously nearby, suddenly perks up and starts moving closer to investigate these strange oval objects that look suspiciously similar to itself.
As the first chicken egg drops into the boiling water with a splash, Eggy freezes mid-air. Then, in what I can only describe as dragon egg panic, it slowly starts backing away from the pot. The movement is so comically cautious that even the stone-faced Patricia cracks a smile.
Eggy continues its retreat, moving inch by inch until it reaches the far corner of the kitchen, where it hovers behind a flour sack as if trying to hide. The cushion beneath it bobs nervously, and I swear I can feel waves of "I don't want to be boiled" coming through our bond.
"Test, accelerate the time around the broth, and don't make it obvious," I think, trying not to laugh at Eggy's dramatic reaction.
Come to think of it, in my old world I heard something about chickens being descendants of dinosaurs, and dragons are like dinosaurs with wings. Does that make them relatives of chickens? In this world, there are two categories of animals: the magical kind and non-magical. All the food in the castle is sourced from magical animals. Apparently, consuming this kind of meat regularly increases the possibility of gaining mana, especially for kids. That's why magic is so uncommon for commoners and how the nobles consistently manage to produce mages and knights.
The pot shimmers as Test manipulates time, developing rich, complex flavors in minutes. The fresh noodles cook to perfection while the eggs reach the ideal soft-boiled consistency. On the surface, it looks like I just increased the temperature. If the knowledge of me knowing time magic leaks out, I think even my mother will faint.
The final result is a perfect bowl of ramen with golden broth, handmade noodles, and carefully arranged toppings. The kitchen staff stares in bewilderment while my mother claps excitedly.
"My genius baby! This smells incredible!" she exclaims.
Meanwhile, Eggy remains in its corner, still eyeing the boiled eggs suspiciously.
I actually made enough for everyone, including the staff, Patricia, Bob, and George.
The comment my mother made was obvious flattery, as to the people of this world, this looks like a bowl of soup with worms in it. Everyone seems hesitant. They are thinking: will their heads roll if they refuse the young prince's play cooking?
Our kitchen doesn't seem to have chopsticks. Does this world even have chopsticks? Not to brag, but in my old world I had managed to learn the art of eating with chopsticks, which makes it feel more authentic. Alas, I'll have to use a spoon and fork. This feels wrong.
As I try to take the first spoonful of food, Mother stops me. "Let Mama try first, OK, cream pie?"
Does she think this is inedible or something? I guess she would have made one of the servants taste it first, but didn't in case that hurts my feelings. She picks up a spoon and slowly takes one mouthful. She has no reaction for a long time, then she decides to continue taking one spoonful after another of ramen, finishing the whole bowl.
"What is this? I have never tasted something so splendid!" she exclaims.
"Get me another bowl!"
With that, the staff exchange uneasy glances. Bob and George take the lead. Bob says, shrugging, "Food is food, and food should never be wasted."
I ignore them and enjoy my bowl of ramen. Damn, I bet Test can open a Michelin star restaurant or something. This is way better than my old world must have something to do with the magical ingredients used in it.
Soon everyone is shocked as to how delectable this dish is. Even Eggy floats closer. I feel in my mind that it wants some too. Wait, can this be considered cannibalism? Are dragons cannibals? Wait, it's an egg how can it eat?
The head chef has so many questions. He said he has never had such a delicious soup.
...
After a few days passed,as usual I'm awakened by my Eggy alarm clock again, and last night I gave it a stern mental request not to disturb me.
I soon realize there's a huge ruckus in the castle. From the window, I see a butler leading a female doctor in from the main gates. Yes, this is the same priest who spanked my butt three times after my birth, and the one my mom beat up.
Even Patricia is missing. This is seriously odd what is going on? I go outside and stop a maid to ask her what's happening.
She falls to her knees and says, "It's a miracle, young master! The lady may be expecting again! The castle hasn't been this joyous since the last time when we found out she was pregnant with you!"
It all comes back to me, and I remember the blessing I used on my mother.
Everyone attributed this miracle to the bowl of ramen I made. Rumors were circulating that several people who ate it were now expecting kids.
There was an order not to spread news of my use of magic, but rumors of ramen surfaced throughout the empire. Apparently, the emperor was also interested and ordered the source of this miracle elixir called ramen to be found. The credit for the dish was given to the head chef. He made up the excuse of using a rare spice that was taken from our treasury or something I never bothered to ask.
And from that day in this world, ramen was known to increase fertility.