The year was 2138. Inside a luxury hotel within the Tokyo Arcology, a grand event was underway. It was a high-stakes culinary battle featuring "fresh" ingredients—a luxury beyond imagination in this age. Standing in the center of it all was Yuji Kawasaki, a chef from the slums.
By all accounts, he shouldn't have been there. A man from the bottom of the social ladder serving food to the elite? Impossible. This was nothing more than a cruel game for the wealthy, a whim that had placed Yuji in this five-star kitchen. Compared to his opponent, his ingredients were trash, his oil was rancid, and his knife was a chipped, rusted relic. Despite his vast knowledge, he was tasked with a dish he had never actually prepared—a crushing handicap. Furthermore, while the other participants had dozens of assistants, Yuji stood alone. Yet, he had managed to serve one hundred portions.
"The winner... Tsukasa Todo!"
Hearing the man in the black tuxedo make the announcement, Yuji let out a long, heavy sigh. He had known this was coming. There was no way a gutter-born chef like him was ever going to be allowed to defeat a high-tier elite like Todo. He didn't complain; he simply turned to leave the grand ballroom, accepting the predetermined outcome.
"Wait! You! Do you have nothing to say for yourself!?"
"What do you want? I'm the loser. What is there to say?"
Yuji turned back toward the winner, Todo. Back in the Arcology, Yuji had spent his life scraping by, buying scraps the wealthy threw away just to create something that resembled a meal. His food was a far cry from his ideals, made from literal garbage in tiny portions, yet the people in the slums always smiled and told him it was delicious. He knew he couldn't beat someone like Todo—a man who had access to limitless gourmet ingredients and a support staff more skilled than most head chefs.
"You're calling me the winner?! Don't mock me! You know the truth! I lost! I'm the one who knows it best! Just look! Look at the leftovers!"
"Shut it. The judges said you won, so just take the win."
Two long tables stood in the hall. On Yuji's table, not a single plate had a scrap of food left. On Todo's, the vast majority of the dishes remained untouched.
"You won! In flavor, in technique... I didn't beat you in a single category! Are you telling me to just pick up the victory you threw away!?"
Good grief, Yuji thought. The elite sure have a lot of pride. To the organizers, Yuji was just a sideshow. A circus act. No matter how magnificent his cooking was, he was destined to lose so the audience could laugh at him. They needed to see a "trash" human fail at a "noble" art like cooking.
"There's no winning or losing in cooking," Yuji said flatly. "You just make food with the person eating it in mind. I only came because I was called. I don't care about the results. Though, I have to admit... seeing those rich bastards realize they were inhaling a 'slum-dweller's' food after they praised it to the high heavens? That was worth the trip."
The judges were clearly fuming, feeling humiliated that Yuji's food had been the favorite. But from Yuji's perspective, they were the ones who had hindered Todo. If Todo had been allowed to cook normally without his "help," it would have been a much closer fight.
"You did well," Yuji added. "It's hard to cook when you're forced to manage a team of specialists from completely different cuisines."
The ingredients didn't match. The knife work was inconsistent. The seasoning was a mess. Todo's "support" had been nothing but sabotage.
"Remember this, you rich pricks," Yuji laughed, looking at the crowd. "Next time, don't try to force a French chef to work with Japanese and Chinese specialists. Even masters have styles that clash."
He snapped a single photo of the ballroom as a souvenir and walked out of the hotel. He didn't have time to linger—there was one last event he had to attend today.
"Will I make it in time...?"
He rushed home, set up his neural dive machine, and booted his PC. Today was the final day of the DMMO-RPG Yggdrasil, the game that had defined an era. The cooking competition was supposed to have ended yesterday, but the wealthy organizers had pushed it back to suit their schedules.
Well, at least I've got a good story to tell the guys.
Yuji was a member of the heteromorphic guild, Ainz Ooal Gown. His avatar was a strange, round, orange creature that looked soft to the touch—a member of the "Cookman" race. He had named himself Chef Kawasaki. It was a specialized race that traded combat prowess for powerful cooking enchantments. Naturally, it wasn't a popular choice, but for Yuji, it was perfect. He chose it for one reason: to recreate dishes in a game that he could never afford to make in the real world.
He hadn't cared about combat, but after being targeted by "Player Killers" for being a heteromorph, he had been saved by Momonga and invited into the guild. Momonga, a man who cherished roleplaying, wanted to build a proper cafeteria in their base and invited Yuji to be their official chef.
I wonder if Ulbert is still on?
Yuji wanted to show off the photo. He wanted to show his friends how he made those elite fools acknowledge his skills. Ulbert would probably howl with laughter, and Momonga would surely give him a warm welcome. With those thoughts in mind, Yuji logged into Yggdrasil.
"Nobody's here... Did I miss them?"
He stood there as Chef Kawasaki—a round giant in a toque and a white chef's coat. He looked around the empty Round Table chamber with disappointment. The time was 11:58 PM. Everyone must have logged out already.
Wait.
"The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown is gone."
The Guild Weapon was missing. There was no way Momonga would leave without it.
"The Throne Room!"
It was the final day. Momonga had to be there, holding the weapon they had all worked so hard for. Confident, Yuji sprinted out of the chamber. The fact that the Pleiades—the battle maids—weren't at their usual posts only confirmed his suspicion.
Dammit, I'm too slow!
As a Cookman, his HP was high, but his attack, defense, and speed were abysmal. He was a chef, not a warrior. To make matters worse, his legs were incredibly short. Even though he was "running," he was barely moving faster than a walk, accompanied by a pathetic, rhythmic squeak-squeak sound from his feet.
"Make it! Just let me make it in time!"
Realizing he wouldn't reach the doors by walking, he activated the Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown to teleport. The moment the transition began, a violent shockwave slammed into him. He lost his footing and tumbled forward.
"Oof! What the—!?"
When he lifted his head, he wasn't in the Throne Room. He was in a lush, vibrant forest. He spat out a mouthful of grass. It tasted bitter.
"Bitter...? Wait."
Senses like taste and smell were strictly regulated in DMMOs by law. You weren't supposed to feel anything. Thinking it was his imagination, he plucked another blade of grass and chewed. He smelled the scent of earth; he tasted the raw, astringent bitterness of the greens.
"Pah! This is... I can actually taste it!?"
Did the game update for the final day? No, that was impossible. He tried to pull up his console, but nothing happened. No GM call, no menu.
"Okay, okay. Calm down. In times like these..."
He reached into the bag hanging from his shoulder and pulled out a frying pan and a kitchen knife. These were his exclusive Cookman gear. While they offered zero combat stats, they doubled the effects of any buffs or status-boosts provided by his food.
"Can I...?"
He focused on the image of his item box and reached into thin air. His hand disappeared into a black ripple, and when he pulled it back out, he was holding a massive slab of dragon fillet. He couldn't remember which dragon it had come from, only that Touch Me had been the one to hunt it.
"I have no idea what's going on... but for now, I'm making lunch."
When in doubt, cook. That was Yuji's philosophy. As long as he was at the stove, he could think clearly. The mystery of where he was, why he couldn't log out, and why he could smell the air was important, but...
"Ingredients like this... you could never find these in the real world."
As a chef, standing before such a magnificent ingredient and not cooking was a sin. Even if this was a dream, he would make the best of it. He ignited a flame with a simple Fire spell, seasoned the dragon meat with salt and pepper, and began to contemplate his situation. This wasn't the real world, and it wasn't a Yggdrasilupdate.
Is this... a transfer to another world?
The thought was absurd, but he kept working. He tossed a chunk of dragon fat into the heated pan. As the fat rendered, he carefully placed the 500g fillet onto the surface. The sizzle was music to his ears. It felt too real to be a dream. But if this was real, why was he in a forest instead of the Great Tomb of Nazarick?
He watched the meat intently. You never flip a steak back and forth. You flip it once, and only when the juices begin to bead on the surface. Only then do you decide the level of doneness—rare, medium, or well-done.
Dragon meat is something else. This isn't like cooking beef.
The fat wasn't surfacing yet. He had never cooked real beef in the old world, but he had studied the theory. Beef would have been ready to flip by now. While waiting, he began slicing vegetables for a side dish, speaking over his shoulder without looking back.
"Hey, you over there. If you're hungry, why don't you join me?"
He had felt the gaze on him for a while, and the loud growl of a stomach was impossible to ignore.
"I didn't know monsters could cook," a voice replied.
A woman draped in a robe stepped out from between the trees. She had a wide, mischievous grin that reminded him of a predatory cat.
"If you're planning on making me the meal, I'm going to have to resist," she said, resting a hand on the hilt of an estoc.
Yuji laughed at the absurdity. He was Level 100, but because of his racial penalties, a Level 50 human could probably beat him in a straight fight. He had no intention of fighting.
"Don't be stupid. Humans taste terrible. Besides, I'm weak. I've got no interest in fighting you. I just want to make delicious food. I want to see people smile when they eat. As for why I invited you... well, food tastes like ash when you eat alone."
The woman laughed, calling him a "strange monster" as she sat down across from him. For a moment, her robe shifted, revealing what looked like a black bikini-style armor. She looked less like a warrior and more like a dark queen.
A real fantasy world, huh? Well, whatever.
What people wore was their business. As long as he could cook, Yuji was satisfied. He wasn't particularly interested in where he was. His only real concern was...
Is Momonga here too?
If he had been brought here, maybe his friend was out there somewhere. With that thought in mind, Yuji reached into his item box and pulled out a bottle of wine made from "Apples of Wisdom." It was perfect for an aperitif—and even better for flambéing a dragon steak.