Chương 3: Something Woke Up

Ding. Chris shut off the tap with a snap. Water dripped from his chin and struck the ceramic basin. He stared into the mirror, pupils tightening — the reflection showed nothing wrong, but that sound had come, beyond any doubt, from inside his own skull.

"Host emotional threshold detected: critical point exceeded." A line of half-transparent, pale-blue text floated into the center of his vision, like subtitles thrown into the air by a projector. Chris stepped back, his spine hitting the bathroom door.

"System binding in progress… identity confirmed: Chris White, culinary competitor."

"What is this?" His voice came out dry and cracked in the small room. No answer. The text went on pulsing of its own accord: [Culinary Champion System v1. 0 — initialization complete] [Core module: Data Eye] [Current Arena Points: 0] [Host Culinary Rating: C+ (62/100)] Chris reached out to touch the line of text. His fingers passed through the light-panel and met nothing.

"This is… a hallucination?" He turned to look out the door. The apartment's living-room light was off; only the dim amber from the streetlamp outside leaked in. Everything was normal, except for this panel of information hanging in front of him that did not belong to the real world. [Starter quest published. View now?] Chris stared at the line for five seconds. He turned, walked out of the bathroom, crossed to the kitchen, and pulled open the refrigerator.

The instant the fridge light came on, the half-transparent panel still hovered in the upper-left of his vision, refusing to shift away when his eyes moved. He shut the fridge. Opened it again. The panel was still there.

"Fine." Chris leaned against the fridge door and folded his arms.

"View quest." The panel unfolded: The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. [Starter Quest: Observer] [Objective: Use Data Eye on any one person] [Reward: Arena Points ×10] [Data Eye uses remaining: 3/3 — refreshes daily] Chris stood in the dark kitchen, staring at this glowing panel, his mind racing. If this was a hallucination born of a breakdown, it was a remarkably organized one. And if it wasn't a hallucination — He went to the window and drew back a corner of the curtain.

In the corridor of the apartment building across the way, a uniformed security guard leaned against the wall scrolling his phone, his face lit blue by the screen.

"Data Eye," Chris said, low. His vision lurched. A layer of pale-blue data flowed up over the guard, like a character info-box in a video game: [Subject: apartment security guard (non-culinary personnel)] [Emotional state: drowsy (78%) + bored (15%) + faintly hungry (7%)] [Fatigue: 81/100] [Focus: 12%] Chris's fingers closed tight around the curtain. This data — emotion, fatigue, focus — if it were aimed at a competition floor, at the judges, at his rivals… His pulse quickened.

[Data Eye uses remaining: 2/3] A new prompt popped up in the lower-right corner of the panel: [System note: Data Eye can analyze chef ability stats, dish completion, judges' taste preferences, and emotional fluctuation. Advanced functions require Arena Points to unlock.] Chris let go of the curtain and turned back into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet above the stove and took out a potato — bought yesterday, not yet used. He set it on the cutting board and picked up the knife.

"Data Eye." This time he aimed it at his own hand. [Host Culinary Data Panel] [Knife Work: B- (68/100)] [Heat Control: C (58/100) — weakness; targeted training advised] [Seasoning: B (72/100)] [Plating: B+ (76/100)] [Ingredient Sense: C+ (64/100)] [Stress Tolerance: D+ (52/100) — critical weakness] Heat Control. Grade C. Fifty-eight. Chris stared at the number, the corner of his mouth slowly tightening. This was it — this fifty-eight — that had cost him everything in front of Vane.

And Stress Tolerance, fifty-two, explained why he'd made the wrong call at the final gate. [Data Eye uses remaining: 1/3] [System note: Daily uses are limited. Allocate wisely. Information gathering during key competitions requires advance planning.] Chris set the knife down and braced both hands on the edge of the counter. Culinary Rating C+. Heat Control C. Stress Tolerance D+. This was his real level — not Vane's prejudice, not bad luck. His raw ability wasn't enough. Data didn't lie.

But the data told him something else, too. His Knife Work was B-, his Seasoning B, his Plating B+. Those scores meant he wasn't without talent. His weak points were simply lethal. [Starter quest complete!] [Arena Points ×10 acquired] [Skill Shop unlocked — currently available: Basic Heat-Perception Training Manual, costs 5 Arena Points] Chris pushed himself upright. Outside, the sky had already turned from pure black to deep blue; Los Angeles slept through three in the morning.

His phone lay on the living-room couch, packed full of mockery and bills. Tomorrow — no, when he woke later today — all of it would still be there. But now he held something new. Chris opened the Skill Shop and redeemed the Heat-Perception Training Manual. A stream of information poured straight into his mind — not a skill conjured from nothing, but a systematic method: visual cues for judging temperature, auditory cues, a cross-verification technique for timing checkpoints. He needed to practice.

Practice a great deal. Chris picked up the potato again and turned toward the oven.