The year is 2007 of the Avalorian Imperial Calendar, and I am seven years old. I'm lying in my bed, extremely annoyed.
The source of my annoyance is currently sitting on my chest, applying a steady, crushing pressure that makes breathing an exercise in sheer determination. Every morning, Kaelus my unhatched draconic companion, whom I usually just called Eggy would float up to my chest, land on it, and then slowly increase his weight. This thing might look like an oversized, sapphire-blue chicken egg, but it could easily reach thirty kilograms when it wanted to make a point. After a thorough analysis, Tes concluded he was checking if I was still alive, a behavior reminiscent of some particularly possessive cats from my old world.
"Kaelus, I'm up. Please get off," I grunted, my voice strained. This unhatched dragon was going to kill me in my sleep one day.
Just as he lightened his weight, I heard the rhythmic clicking of heels on the stone corridor outside my room. Oh no. The other menace to my morning peace was approaching.
My door burst open. "Good morning, cream pie! Mama has brought you breakfast!" she announced, carrying a tray laden with enough food to feed a small army.
My mother's love was a wonderful, terrifying thing. Her approach to nutrition, however, was a culinary tragedy. Spices existed in this world, but they were used with all the subtlety of a catapult. She began spoon-feeding me pancakes that tasted like pure sugar had been formed into a cake shape and then doused with more sugar for good measure. As I chewed, a thought struck me with the force of revelation. I wish she had another target for this overwhelming affection. They had been trying for another child for three years to no avail.
My thoughts were interrupted by Tes. "Affirmative, user has accumulated sufficient blessings."
"Elaborate," I asked internally, trying not to choke.
"Master, as part of my primary function as a moderator AI, I passively accumulate 'balancing energy' from the world. This energy can be expended to correct minor deviations from stability or to enact probability alterations. I currently have enough stored to apply a 'blessing' to your mother's biological viability."
"Wait. If I use one, my mother can have another child?"
"Affirmative. A blessing of this magnitude alters probability and biological viability on a fundamental level. Do you wish to initiate the blessing?"
I remembered overhearing my mother late one night, her voice full of longing as she spoke to my father. That settled it. "Yes," I decided. "But make it subtle. No light shows."
"Affirmative. Blessing applied with maximum discretion. Blessings applied."
Now, for the more immediate problem. Kaelus bobbed next to the bed, and his ovoid shape suddenly gave me an idea. If this world doesn't have ramen, I can just invent it.
Time to deploy my ultimate weapon. I looked up at my mother, making my eyes as wide and sparkly as possible. "Please, Mama. Can I be allowed in the kitchen?"
She clutched her chest as if struck by an arrow. The critical hit left her defenses in ruins. After a moment of visible internal struggle, she finally relented. "Okay," she sighed. "But only if Mommy is with you. And Patricia. And probably Bob."
Soon, our entire entourage me, my mother, Patricia, Bob, and one levitating dragon egg marched toward the castle kitchen. The head chef, a portly man with a flour-dusted apron, looked terrified at having royalty in his domain.
"Your Grace, Your Highness," he trembled. "Was there something wrong with the morning meal?"
"No," I said with a reassuring smile. "I'm here to play. I want to make something new."
"Tes, showtime," I thought as I approached a preparation counter.
What followed was a display of culinary magic. Under Tes's precise control, my small hands began moving with impossible speed and confidence. Flour levitated, water and eggs combining in perfect proportions. The dough kneaded itself, stretching and folding in patterns that would take a master years to perfect before slicing itself into thin, uniform strands of noodles.
"Leo! When did you learn such advanced magic?" my mother gasped.
"What do you mean, Mother? I'm just playing," I said, maintaining my innocent facade while Tes toned down the overt telekinesis. My mother quickly ordered the stunned kitchen staff to silence.
The real magic was the broth. Proper tonkotsu ramen required hours of slow cooking. With Tes's abilities, we could achieve the same result through controlled time manipulation. She levitated a large pot, filled it with bones and vegetables, and began the cooking process. To outside observers, it simply looked like I had incredible control over flame magic, but a subtle shimmer around the pot was Tes, accelerating the temporal flow, developing rich, complex flavors in minutes.
The showstopper, however, was the eggs. I gestured toward a bowl of chicken eggs, and they began floating toward a pot of boiling water. Kaelus, who had been hovering curiously nearby, suddenly perked up with what I could only describe as alarm. As the first chicken egg dropped into the water, Kaelus froze. Then, in a dramatic display of existential horror, he slowly began backing away. The movement was so comically cautious that even the stone-faced Patricia cracked a smile. He retreated to the far corner of the kitchen, taking shelter behind a large sack of flour as if hiding from the terrible fate of his distant poultry relatives. Through our bond, I could feel waves of "I don't want to be boiled!" emanating from him.
The final assembly was a work of art. The perfect noodles, the rich broth, the soft-boiled eggs with their jammy yolks. The kitchen filled with an aroma unlike anything this castle had ever known. My mother, ever the protector, insisted on trying the first bowl. She took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened. She took another. Then she devoured the entire bowl with aggressive enthusiasm.
"What is this?!" she exclaimed, looking at the empty bowl as if it had betrayed her. "I have never tasted something so complex! So satisfying! Chef, get me another!"
With that royal endorsement, the staff and guards dug in. Expressions of skepticism gave way to amazement, then to something approaching religious fervor. Even Kaelus, despite his earlier trauma, floated closer, his curiosity finally overcoming his fear. It was a culinary revolution, started by a seven-year-old in a castle kitchen. And for the first time in a long while, the laughter in the room felt real, washing away the last of the fear that had lingered since the attack.