003 Culinary Arts – Rank A
Thanks to this farce, Richard was at least safe from the usual boring high school bullying for a while; he could finally enjoy campus life in peace.
The aftermath: Tommy was "politely" escorted to the principal's office, his usually overworked parents summoned as well. No one knew what was said behind that door.
All everyone saw was Richard later being called in too. When he stepped out, he looked as cheerful as ever, while Tommy was seething, fists clenched, too angry to speak.
"Hey, man, what happened in there? Tommy looked like he'd swallowed a pile of crap." Richard was at his locker grabbing books for Spanish. He'd just learned the school used a rotating schedule—no fixed seats, total freedom. The girl talking to him had sat beside him in first period.
Richard grinned. "Nothing big. Principal and his parents agreed he owes me a formal apology. Tomorrow on the quad he'll apologize to the whole school."
"Haha, first guy to humiliate him. You're way cooler than I thought." The girl beamed, unfiltered, her tall frame and fresh beauty giving off a tomboy vibe.
"Then you'll have to get to know me better. Friends? Robin Buckley." Richard shut his locker and offered his hand.
"Love to, Richard," Robin said, eyes sparkling as her soft hand met his.
Side by side they headed to Spanish, chatting as they walked.
"Hey, Robin, Richard's not my real first name—Chade is. Richard's my middle name, last name's Li."
"Guess I'll be calling you Chade, then…"
[Bond formed with key character Robin – Plot Points +10]
…"See ya tomorrow, bro."
"Tomorrow, Chade."
They high-fived at the gate. Both were wage-slaves: Richard flat broke, Robin saving for a top-tier college.
From what Richard gathered, his new best friend worked at a bakery downtown—free crust scraps for breakfast every day.
Breakfast saved with Robin, dinner saved at Benny's. He only had to worry about lunch.
Food budget slashed!
Sweet!
Before his shift at Benny's Burgers, Richard swung by home, tossed his bag on the couch, then biked to the diner.
He clocked out around 8:30, munching fries and a burger while pushing his bike home.
"Shame I didn't meet any other plot characters besides Robin—could've farmed more points." After a hot shower he flopped onto bed and opened his status screen.
[Plot Points: 18]
"Since Culinary Arts is my cheapest stat, I'll max it first. Higher skill means better refinement chance, and maybe my first derived ability." He dumped points into Culinary Arts.
[Ding! Culinary Arts advanced to Rank C!]
[Ding! Culinary Arts advanced to Rank B!]
[Culinary Arts (Rank B) – Believe it: no one can refuse your food. Ordinary ingredients become restaurant-quality dishes in your hands.]
Two boosts, 3 points then 5.
Eyes closed, Richard felt his body retune to the new skill; recipes flooded his mind, a head-to-toe rush of transformation.
Still got points—one more.
[Ding! Culinary Arts advanced to Rank A!]
[Culinary Arts (Rank A) – Wow! Dishes so good they're practically magical!]
Seven more points gone. Power surged, senses sharpened, muscles rippled.
Strange recipes from culinary legends overloaded his brain—gourmet techniques that seemed almost supernatural... "Like something out of a cooking competition show—are these for real!?" He could actually execute those seemingly impossible dishes; his skill was nearing perfection!
Huff!
Richard jolted awake to sunlight and a blaring alarm.
Slapping the clock, he peeled off sweat-soaked clothes and hit the bathroom mirror—overnight he'd grown taller, stronger, every muscle sharply defined: arms, core, back.
"Makes sense," Richard chuckled. "Without a bit of strength, you can't be a master chef." Suddenly a faint rustle brushed his ear; his gaze turned razor-sharp and he snatched the soap from the sink, hurling it without hesitation.
Smack!
A cockroach the size of a thumb lay crushed beneath the slick bar of soap.
"Hearing sharpened, touch heightened." Richard washed the soap from his fingers, rinsed them under the tap, and found his hands hypersensitive to the ordinary water—his mind automatically gauged mineral content and temperature.
"Is this like having superhuman senses? Don't tell me I've unlocked enhanced taste, smell, and sight too?" Richard was elated.
After a quick wash he hurried to the kitchen, whipped up a random dish, tasted his own scrambled eggs with bacon, and nearly wept—it was that good. "Incredible," he sighed.
Sure enough, with Culinary Arts at grade A, all five senses had jumped toward human limits, maybe even surpassed them.
The tactile boost, however, was confined to his hands—probably because Culinary Arts prizes manual sensitivity above everything else.
"One A-grade skill changed me this much; what happens when every skill is maxed? And can you go beyond A?" Richard cycled toward school, grinning yet riddled with questions.
Answers would only come once he'd banked more plot points.
"Morning, Chade." Robin had beaten him to the lockers. She slammed hers shut, then reopened it to pull out a bag of bread crusts. "Brought what you asked for."
"Morning." Richard dropped his bag, fished out his books, accepted the bag, and smiled. "Thanks. Let's head out—first period is Mr. Clarke's science lab."
Robin hugged her books and stuck out her tongue. "No front row for me—being his demo assistant is torture."
In the lab, the teacher hadn't arrived. Richard spotted Tommy in the corner, face bruised and gloomy—clearly his parents had finished the job the school hadn't.
Tommy's gaze snapped to Richard, muscles tensing, but he only glowered for a few vicious seconds before looking away.
"He's glaring at you," Robin mouthed silently, brows raised.
Richard answered the same way: "Ignore him."
A long-haired guy with a swept-back mullet strolled in and sat beside Tommy. Noticing Tommy's death-stare at Richard's back, he smirked. "That him?"
Tommy gave a silent grunt and stabbed his eraser with a craft knife as though it were Richard's heart.
"Don't be stupid," the mullet-haired youth muttered. "You're already on probation. If anything happens to him now, you're the first suspect. Caught, and you're expelled."
"Easy for you, Steve," Tommy muttered, tongue playing with the faint iron taste left from his father's beating. "Rich parents make problems disappear."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve frowned, but let the jab slide; yesterday had been rough for Tommy, and today promised more humiliation.
Tommy flashed a hollow grin. "Relax. I won't do anything rash."
Steve patted his shoulder, still uneasy, then glanced at Richard laughing with Robin. Since when had this smooth-talker been at Hawkins High?
His musings ended when a sweet voice drifted over. A confident brunette girl and her redheaded best friend slid into the adjacent bench.
Steve bit his knuckle to hide a stupid grin; he'd recently developed a crush on that self-assured beauty named Nancy Wheeler.
Tommy's whispered vow went unheard: "Even if I beat you half to death, without proof, what can anyone do to me?"