by Charles Dean
About three or four minutes later, he carefully lifted the metal sheet, happy that it didn’t burn him thanks to either his Resistance or his Fire Qi, and sprinkled the cheese across the top of the eggs before recovering the dish and cooking it for another three minutes.
Finally, when it was finished, he slid the cheese-and-egg-covered hash browns off of the skillet and onto a plate.
“It’d be a little better with some ground meat to go with the eggs . . .” Lars said as he pushed the plate toward her, “but you should find it to your liking.”
“Cheese, eggs, potatoes . . .” The woman stared at the food as if Lars had just spit right in her face. “You think I’m some commoner who would eat this type of peasant dish?”
That use of the word “commoner,” the aversion to basic foods . . . it means she’s at least the type of nobility that Matthew is. Someone from a proper clan. Probably a good one. He wasn’t sure why people were afraid of her, why her name carried so much weight. She had servants, as her mere gesture summoning them proved, but that could have been a result of her power as a cultivator. It might have been a newfound thing, but Lars believed that tone, the use of the word “commoner,” and how she treated people like property were all indicative of a very powerful social status. No, she’s not like Matthew. She must have come from a clan far above his station, Lars concluded. “Didn’t you say the alchemist uses even basic ingredients to create something magical?” Lars quipped. “I’ve tried to embrace that very ideal. Go on, try it . . . unless you’re the type to say one thing and do another . . .”
“Don’t forget your station. I’m the master here, aren’t I?” she said as she stepped forward. She grabbed a fork and took a piece of the dish. She took a second to chew it, covering her mouth as she did so Lars couldn’t see the chewing or the expression she was making. After she finally swallowed, she lowered her hand so that Lars could see her face and the fork. He felt a little nervous until she stabbed the fork into the food and took a second bite—then a third and a fourth. By the time she had cleared half the plate, Lars’s actual master started yelling.
STOP THAT WOMAN BEFORE OUR BREAKFAST IS GONE! DON’T LET HER EAT IT ALL!!! LARS! THAT’S OUR BREAKFAST! LARSSS!!! OUR BREAKFAST!!
“Not bad,” she opined. “Not bad at all. The meal was adequate.”
If it’s just adequate, will you stop eating so damn much of it?! Lars wanted to shout. If that woman ate everything on the plate before he got a bite, then he’d have to deal with a cussing voice in his head for the next three hours, potentially four. While he could tolerate that, it didn’t mean he wanted to deal with it. He was already annoyed this morning, and an angry and petulant voice complaining about his lack of food was not high on the list of headaches he wanted to be forced to ignore.
“Alright then,” she said after devouring a little over three-fifths of the meal. “You have the basics of a good alchemist. You prepared the ingredients ahead of time, you maintained your flame exceptionally well, you timed each step properly, and you anticipated how the ingredients would mix. So, fine. I accept you as my disciple. Congratulate yourself for blabbing your way into an honor you are clearly not worthy of. You will be my second disciple. Try not to die as miserably as the first one.”
“Thank you, master,” Lars said, doing his best to smile with his eyes as well as his mouth. Remember, they can tell you’re lying when your eyes don’t match your lips, Lars thought to himself, repeating the words his mother had said often. She had made sure he could at least pretend to be happy with situations, always more afraid than even Lars was that someone would kill him for offending them. Then again, if she grew up in a town like this . . . Lars remembered that his mother had been from a larger city and had only moved when she had him. “It is indeed a great honor—one far beyond my worth.”
“Don’t get my rear wet with all that kissing,” she said. “I have plenty of sycophants. I don’t need another one.”
“Sorry, master.” Lars wanted to point out that earlier she hadn’t at all been harsh in response to his excessive compliments. “I just like to keep my head on my shoulders, and words are easier to spare than actions.”
“That’s . . .” She looked at him dumbfounded as if he had just slapped her. “That’s the first time someone has ever said it that way.” She laughed. “Oh, man, who would have thought that honesty when phrased right could be funny? You. You will make a good disciple. Hopefully, you won’t blow yourself up in the first year like that last moron. How hard is it to mix a few basic chemicals without blowing up my entire damn laboratory?!”
Well, unless she discovered pure potassium or another basic method of creating an explosion, it’s more likely that she’s trying to create Qi-enhancing tonics. She likely doesn’t understand how to balance the elements of the different Qi types and so accidentally combined two that feed each other, like wood and fire, before mixing it with an opposing element to fire and forcing the energy to go chaotic and explode everywhere. Which means . . . I’m still the number one master! Muahahaha!
I know you find a lot of things funny . . . but do you have to include the laughing in the text boxes that go with your speech?
Of course. Rules are rules, and contracts are contracts.
“Did your previous disciple balance the elemental properties of the Qi he was mixing?” Lars asked, shamelessly cheating and using the information that his actual master had just leaked to press Hsein Ku and prove his worth at the same time.
“It was his job to figure that stuff out. I only taught him the basics. If he didn’t pay attention, I can’t be bothered,” she huffed. “Now, you still owe me two bodies. Do you remember what I told you to get?”
“A, uhh . . . dokabi? A younim?” Lars actually had no idea what bodies she had told him to get for her. “Did you want one of each, or will two of one type work?”
“Hmm . . . two of one type will work, but I want another breakfast of that quality,” she replied, pointing at the meal Lars had made her, “if you’re going to come up short-handed.”
Lars grave another fake smile. “As you wish, Master Hsein Ku. It’ll be my pleasure. But perhaps you could help me by telling me how to find them?”
“How to find them?” Her eyebrows shot up with interest, and then a mischievous grin spread across her face. “No, I think a good disciple should learn that on his own.”
“Well, at least you could tell me where to”—he was about to ask where to find her when he had the bodies, but he didn’t want to insult her pride by admitting he didn’t exactly know who she was—“deliver the bodies. I don’t think you want me dropping this off in plain sight.”
“Plain sight? Who cares about that? I am Hsein Ku, and no one shall upset my work without paying the price,” she confidently stated. “You have one week to drop them off at the front door to the royal palace for all to see. It will be my way of officially informing the city that you are my new disciple, the tailless brat who, for some reason, seems stronger than most with pure blood of your age. If you bring proper beasts and prove your worth, it will be the perfect attack against those aristocrats harping my royal bloodline. It will be the first attack of many in which I, Princess Hsein Ku, prove I am not a foul-blooded dud!”
She clapped her hands and left after she finished speaking, and a moment later, the servants that had set up the makeshift kitchen in the middle of the guest villa came to collect it. Before they could, however, Lars quickly grabbed the plate of food. When one of them tried to take it from him, he put the food onto the table he had been sitting at and handed him the plate.
“It’s good that you’ll be one of us,” the servant said as he took the plate from Lars. “The streets will run red with the blood from royal turmoil, but you’ll be fine. You’re on the right side.”
Well, that’s a creepy way to leave things.
Chapter 8
Name: Lars
Level: 5
Power: 320
Speed: 729
Fo
rtitude (HP): 320
Resistance: 320
Unspent: 0
Elemental Abilities
Wind Qi: 270
Earth Qi: 152
Ice Qi: 144
Fire Qi: 143
Water Qi: 115
Metal Qi: 49
Toxin Qi: 32
Wood Qi: 16
Unassigned Qi: 85
Abilities
[10] Advanced Reading Level 2 [10,538/2,000,000 Words Read]
[10] Knife Hand Level 2 [1/10 Unaware Combatants Killed]
[20] Toxin Immunity Level 4 [1/10 Toxins Consumed]
[N/A] Unyielding Ice Veins [No Level]
[N/A] Falling Water Dancing over the Moon [No Level]
[N/A] Flame of the Pill God Level 3
Item Skill Progressions
Enslavement [1/5 People Enslaved]
Active Quests
Go slap yourself!
So . . . I have a week to find out exactly what the hell those creatures are, get two of them, and bring their bodies to the palace’s front gate so that I don’t get murdered by a crazy, psychotic princess . . .
Well, alternatively, you do have other options.
Let me guess: You think that I can either murder everyone until I’m strong enough to murder her or that I can run away? Lars anticipated her suggestions with ease. Could you try being a little less predictable? Maybe suggest something I’ll actually do? Because leaving people to die or forcing people to die . . . kind of not options for me, and you know it.
Predictability isn’t a bad thing. Often, there is only one best answer, one best-in-slot item for a gear slot, and one best build for a character. The cookie-cutter mold is shaped by failures.
Sometimes, I wish you’d just use terms I know . . . best in slot? Build for a character? What? Well, whatever, I get the point. Lars sighed as he went back to his desk to finish off the little meal he had made and begin working once more on the cultivation guide for his two disciples, Jill and Matthew. It annoyed the hell out of the voice in his head, who insisted he should be leaving immediately to get to work on the body-collection task, kill people, or at the very least run away. But he didn’t care. He had promised that he’d do this favor for them, so he was going to do it.
When he finished, he got up and walked toward the main hall to find that Matthew was waiting at the door for him.
“So, when do we start learning? What are we learning first?” Matthew asked, his tail wagging behind him as he stared at Lars with eager anticipation.
“We?” Lars shook his head. “I have an errand to run; you’re learning on your own,” Lars answered, handing the first stages of the method he had just written down to Matthew.
“What’s this?” Matthew asked.
“You can read, can’t you?”
“Yes! Of course I can! I’m a proud member of House Neukdaegalbi!” Matthew quickly asserted, defending his literary ability.
“Good. Then read. I will give you only a short time before I expect to see great results.” Lars pretended to be callous as he walked past Matthew and continued his journey toward the main hall. He was in a rush. He had a lot of things to do, and babysitting a noble whose hardships could be listed in total by noting he had a crappy father wasn’t on his list of priorities. He had already done his part by working diligently in the morning and giving Matthew the manual.
“But what will you be doing? Aren’t you going to be making sure I learn this method correctly? What if I make a mistake?” Matthew kept hitting him with questions one after the other.
“I told you that I have errands to run,” Lars replied. “I have put this together for you. This should be enough. If you really think you’re worthy of learning from me, then prove it and do so. Don’t badger me.”
“But . . .” Matthew looked like Lars had stepped on his tail as he stood there, practically pouting. “But I need proper guidance.”
“The young master hasn’t had proper friends before or anyone to stand up for him,” Maggie said, coming in behind Lars as if she were a breeze that just appeared. “You’ll have to forgive him if he comes off a bit . . . clingy. He is only unsure of how to handle relationships properly.”
“That’s fine,” Lars said, smiling at Maggie. “Everyone is sometimes.”
Maggie’s smile was as gentle as the breeze she came in, yet as cold as a frigid winter gust. “I trust your massage was to your liking?”
“Yes . . . yes, it was. Thank you . . .” Lars did his best not to say or do anything out of turn, but he felt a little uncomfortable at the mere mention of last night’s events, as if a dirty secret of his had been spilled into the streets.
That woman didn’t even wait ten seconds to blackmail you either. Gotta love it. That woman will go places. Mark my words: she will rule the clan with a far more tightly gripped fist than Matthew. Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance. He’s too kind.
Maggie beamed. “That’s nice to hear! Jill is waiting for you in the main hall. She has already prepared a full-course breakfast for you.”
So, help me, if you turn it down with some “I’ve already eaten” excuse before we get to try a bite, I’m going to generate quests to slap yourself. There will be no reward, only penalties if you fail.
You’re going to have to explain to me how this contract with you works, Lars quickly quipped. He did not like the idea of anyone having control over him, and the quest system seemed to be just that. A way for the master within his head to generate leverage against him. If she didn’t like something he was going to do, she could punish him through quests.
I mean, you could ask, but again, you weren’t the one who made the contract.
I see . . . Lars decided to put the thought out of his head for a moment. The topic meant that he would have to think about his father, and he didn’t want to have to deal with any emotion when he was trying to get out of the Neukdaegalbi compound and begin his quest as soon as he could and with as little friction as possible. So, rather than allowing himself to get emotional, he just did as his master and Maggie suggested and walked into the main dining room.
At a table, dressed in a very tight-fitting red cheongsam dress, sat Jill. The meal beside her was a very traditional breakfast that he would have expected one of his neighbors from back home in the village to have made if he and his mother were visiting: a simple vegetable omelet, cooked tofu seasoned with soy sauce, rice, and that annoying radish kimchi that everyone seemed to love—everyone except Lars.
Okay, we’ve seen the meal. Can we leave? Lars asked after seeing the breakfast. He had secretly been hoping for something wonderful.
“Apologies, Master Lars, but my daughter is not that skilled in cooking since I am usually the one to do it for her while she focuses on cultivation. This is the best meal she could make, prepared with love and care. I am sure you won’t be too hastened by the sight of it and leave before you’ve had a bite?” Maggie, the mind-reading mother, seemed to always be one step ahead of Lars’s own thoughts.
“Of course, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite . . .” Lars replied with a forced smile as he sat down at the table next to Jill. Thank the gods my mother insisted I learn how to fake a smile.
“See, Mom?!” Matthew asked in a hushed voice, only to receive a pinch to his side that was so quick Lars wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been paying attention.
“Do not address me as your mother when we are not alone,” she said in a whisper.
“I told you that he is a man, so he’d want meat and potatoes. All these vegetables, no wonder he hesitated at the door,” Matthew said.
“I only hesitated because I was stunned by the thoughtfulness,” Lars blatantly lied. He knew there was no way anyone would believe the load of fertilizer he was feeding the flowery lies leaving his mouth, but at least they would help his hosts save face. “It’s not often that anyone does something for me out of the kindness of their own heart. Usually, and especially since I began my tutelage under Hsein Ku . . .” Lars let his w
ords trail off as he looked at the floor. “It’s just been one thing after the other. Everyone wants something from me. I am a tool to be used, not a person whose company can be enjoyed. The days are numbered only with tasks others want me to do and measures I must take to protect myself.”
“Such is the life of those who have: to always be hounded by those who have not,” Maggie remarked, showing no pity for his quickly faked sob story. The woman probably knew exactly what he was hoping to get by telling it.
Matthew, on the other hand, unable to tell Lars was trying to create distance, was practically teary-eyed as he heard it. “I know this feeling all too well! From the moment I was born to this house, every beggar on the street thinks he is entitled to my wealth! Every passerby believes I have a job for him, and every commoner thinks he has the right to talk to me as if we were equal! It is devastating. I can’t even leave my home without being accosted by merchants seeking to take my month’s labor in a few minutes.”
Lars looked back at him, eyes open wide, and nodded. “I could sense this of you,” he continued. He was still lying, but he felt a little guilty for doing it. “It’s why I stood up for you and volunteered to help you. You’re too pure of a soul for this world and too good of a man. I only worried others would take advantage of your kindness . . . and so I customized the cultivation method I gave you. If another practices it, death is all that awaits them.”
Don’t worry about it. Mom said Dad lied every five words when they first met just to stay alive too. Charisma is a skill not properly appreciated in a world of murder hobos.
“It is good someone understands my gentle son,” Maggie said, beaming with pride to the point Lars couldn’t tell if his lie had actually worked or if she just really loved her son and was happy that her son was happy.
“And your daughter, I take it,” Jill said as she stood up, giving a near-ninety-degree bow to Lars. “Master, I have made you a meal that I hope you will enjoy. The kimchi is very healthy and will aid you in prolonging your life. The vegetables I have chosen for the omelet will assist your digestion, and the tofu will provide flavor without making you tired. Please enjoy.”
