The sun had long since vanished below the horizon. The moon now hung high—a silver sentinel bathing the world in pale light.
Deep into the night, Piers's eyes fluttered open.
"…Ooh, I was asleep," he mumbled, lashes still heavy with drowsiness.
On either side of him, his mother and father slept soundly, their steady breathing a soft rhythm in the quiet room.
"Can't be helped," he grumbled as his stomach let out a miserable growl.
"Right… I didn't eat dinner. I'm starving now."
With a small sigh, he slid out from beneath the blanket. Cool air brushed his skin as he slipped to the floor.
"Wait… where's Shyuu?"
He padded to the window and peeked outside. In the garden, bathed in moonlight, the little slime was curled up beside the pet house Dad built—content, glowing faintly.
Did he sneak out? …Nah. Probably Mom put him there.
He glanced back—his parents hadn't stirred. Xylia serene as ever, Rigas half-hanging off the bed like he was trying to flee a nightmare.
"Yaaawn…" he stretched, arms wide, jaw cracking with a long, satisfying yawn.
"Alright. Food first. Then… base time."
He reached for the door—then paused, eyes narrowing. Tiptoeing out, he stopped midway across the room.
"Oh, right… almost forgot."
Mana pulsed faintly as he focused. Skill: Memory Loop.
The spell washed over Xylia. She didn't stir, still serene in dreamland.
A satisfied nod followed.
"Okay. Good night, Mom. Dad," he whispered, a mischievous curl on his lips."I'll be back by morning."
Halfway to the kitchen, another thought hit him.
Hmm. Didn't Mom say she was testing new recipes today? Maybe she left some leftovers…
Curiosity—and hunger—drove him onward.
Climbing onto the tall chair was a mini-boss fight by itself—tiny body wobbling, arms gripping the edge like a determined mountaineer.
Finally, with one victorious plop:
"Phew… without mana, this body's useless."
His gaze dropped to the table.
There it was: a small pot of leftover curry… and the eternal mountain of plain bread.
Piers's face twitched—once, twice.
"…This again…? Seriously?
He stared at the bland curry and the sad bread.
Frustration bubbling up.
He tugged at his shirt.
"Everything in this world is amazing except the food! Why? Why is THIS the only part that sucks?"
His throat tightened as familiar flavors surfaced—yakisoba steaming in winter air, pillowy mochi on New Year mornings, crisp karaage that burned his fingers.
"…I really miss that stuff."
He breathed out slowly.
Enough.
"Creation time."
Mana threads spun from his fingers—
Matter Forging!
Poof.
With a flourish—tada!—a flawless, steaming bento box appeared. Rice, karaage, tamagoyaki, pickles. The works.
"Itadakimasu!" he grinned, eyes gleaming like twin stars. A thin line of drool slid down his chin as he clasped the chopsticks in both hands.
He dug in immediately.
Crunch—slurp—munch.
"Mm, yeah. This is the real deal."
His voice melted into bliss as he chewed, cheeks puffed with food.
His stomach finally appeased, he leaned back in his chair with a faint smirk.
"Hah, That hit the spot."
He let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"Well," he murmured
licking a stray grain of rice from his lip,
"It's nice to eat food from my past life again."
His gaze drifted toward the bedroom door.
Slowly, a sly grin curled across his face—a glint of drool threatening at the corner of his mouth.
But… it would taste even better if Mom made it herself.
The thought alone made his eyes sparkle with unholy inspiration.
If I could just plant my past-life memories—every recipe, every dish—into her dreams while she's sleeping… then breakfast, lunch, and dinner would be set for life!
A tiny, muffled giggle escaped his throat—half sinister mastermind, half hungry child.
Without another word, he hopped down from the chair and bolted back toward the stairs.
Halfway up—
"…Wait. Crap."
He froze, face blank.
"Tch. Of course.
I don't actually know any recipes.
A heavy silence.
This mind is a genius but my past self was a food idiot."
His tiny hand gripped the banister as his brain spun.
But there's gotta be a way…
He trudged back toward the dining room, still grumbling, and plopped himself onto the chair again. His legs dangled off the edge, swinging idly as he scowled at the leftover curry.
Think, Piers, think…
And then—like a spark in the dark—his mind snapped to the obvious.
"…Matter Forging."
His palm slapped the table. Mana flared.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Plates and bowls materialized in rapid fire—Okonomiyaki, ramen, takoyaki, gyūdon, hambāgu, karaage, kare raisu, pocky, katsu-don, and more, an entire festival of Japanese cuisine crowding every inch of wood.
The sight hit him like a truck. His flat expression crumbled, his eyes glazing over, cheeks heating as drool pooled shamelessly down his chin.
"…"Heh-heh-heh… perfect… absolutely perfect…"
He narrowed his eyes. "Alright. Next step."
Appraisal.
At once, the dishes shimmered with glowing windows of text—ingredient lists, cooking steps, exact ratios—all flooding into his mind like a living cookbook beamed straight into his skull.
Gyūdon (Beef Bowl)
Recipe: Thin-sliced beef simmered with soy sauce, mirin, sugar, and onions, served over steamed rice.
Ingredients: Beef, onion, soy sauce, mirin, sugar, dashi broth, rice.
Taste/Flavor: Rich, savory-sweet harmony. Comfort food that warms the soul.
Effect: Restores stamina greatly. Reduces fatigue accumulation by 25% for 3 hours.
Takoyaki
Recipe: Batter-based octopus dumplings cooked in round molds, topped with sauce, mayo, and bonito flakes.
Ingredients: Wheat flour, eggs, dashi stock, octopus, green onion, pickled ginger.
Taste/Flavor: Crispy outside, gooey inside; tangy, salty, and umami-rich.
Effect: Heals minor wounds. Grants temporary Agility +10% for 15 minutes.
Okonomiyaki (Savory Pancake)
Recipe: Flour-and-egg batter mixed with cabbage, pork belly, and toppings, grilled on a flat pan.
Ingredients: Cabbage, pork, flour, eggs, dashi, okonomiyaki sauce, mayo, bonito flakes.
Taste/Flavor: Savory, hearty, with layers of texture; slightly sweet sauce ties it together.
Effect: Restores heal instantly. Boosts stamina recovery speed for 2 hours.
His breath hitched, eyes gleaming with villainous delight.
"I'm a total genius," he whispered, voice trembling with anticipation.
"With this… I can turn Mom into the greatest chef in this world."
And then—back to the bedroom.
His eyes shut tight as he poured mana into Memory Loop, targeting Xylia's dreams directly. recipes of ramen, sushi, bento, and dozens of other dishes streamed into her mind like some god-tier cooking tutorial.
"Perfect. Now Mom can handle the hard work while I reap the benefits,"
he muttered with a smug little grin. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—all set for life.
"Alright. Next stop—the base."
He paused mid-step, looking down at his tiny sleepwear.
"…But first, wardrobe change."
A pulse of mana shimmered over him. Pajamas dissolved, replaced by a neat set of clothes—fit for adventure, stylish enough for a proper entrance.
Without wasting a second, he rushed to the floorboard under his bed, prying it open to grab the rolled-up map and a few other essentials.
Just in case.
He stuffed them snugly into the pocket of his shorts, gave it a light pat, then straightened with a satisfied nod.
"Mm. Much better. Let's go."
He darted out into the garden, cool night air brushing against his skin. His eyes immediately fell on Shyuu, who was curled beside the pet house, wobbling happily under the moonlight.
"Shyuu, what are you doing out here? You're supposed to be sleeping inside."
But as he bent down, his eyes narrowed. Beyond the barrier—just past the hedges—several silhouettes crouched like bad actors in a children's play, peeking in with zero subtlety.
"…Seriously?"
He straightened, deadpan.
"You dimwits! Stop ogling at Shyuu like perverts!
I can see you!"
The bushes rustled violently.
Rook scrambled out first, feathers puffed, posture stiff as a soldier. Then rapi klak and skree.