Ruden stood in front of his shop, arms crossed, watching as the dust settled from the carriage that had taken Kael away. He had always known Kael was different, but now he was officially something else—something important. As much as he wanted to be happy for his friend, he couldn’t help but feel a little bitter. Kael had been his only real competition in the village, and now that he was gone…

  Wait a minute.

  Ruden’s eyes widened. That means I’m the strongest hunter left. I basically took down Sanguinor too! A smug grin stretched across his face. He could already imagine the respect he’d get, the free food, the admiration from the villagers—

  Then reality hit him like a runaway ox cart.

  People were already lining up outside his shop.

  “Hey, Ruden! You’re the guy who helped take down Sanguinor, right?” someone called out.

  “I heard you make the best roasted beast in town!” another shouted.

  “I want to eat the food of a hero!”

  Ruden’s grin stiffened. His pride swelled, but at the same time, he realized something terrible—Fame means work!

  He barely got a moment to rest before the flood of customers swarmed his shop. From sunrise to midnight, he cooked, grilled, served, and repeated. No time to experiment, no time to enjoy himself, just constant demand. By the end of the day, his arms ached, and his back felt like it had been trampled by warhorses.

  This is too much. I need a break.

  So, when news of the upcoming cooking competition spread through the village, he seized the opportunity.

  The Cooking Competition Begins

  The village square was packed. Colorful banners hung from the rooftops, and the smell of fresh ingredients filled the air. The competition had one simple rule: contestants had thirty minutes to hunt, cook, and serve a dish that would impress the judges.

  As Ruden scanned his competitors, his gaze landed on the current village chef—a man whose very appearance screamed "gluttony." His white chef's coat was stained beyond salvation, and his rectangular face seemed to stretch from years of overeating. This was the so-called Taste Master, a title given less for his cooking and more for his ability to "appreciate" food.

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  Ruden couldn't help but laugh aloud. This guy’s my opponent? Easy win.

  The village chef turned to glare at him. "Something funny, boy?"

  Ruden waved his hand. "No, no! Just… appreciating the competition."

  The other contestants gave him wary glances. He had already made an enemy before the competition even started.

  The countdown began.

  Three… two… one…

  "Start!"

  Immediately, chaos erupted. Contestants dashed toward the forest, hoping to catch the best game for their dish.

  Ruden, however, froze.

  Wait… We have to catch our own ingredients?

  His eyes darted around. One contestant had already prepared beforehand, pulling out a Melon Bird, known for its soft, easy-to-cook meat. Others rushed off to hire hunters.

  Panic set in. He had assumed ingredients would be provided.

  Think, Ruden, think!

  Then, a realization struck him—his shop still had meat left over from yesterday!

  He sprinted back to his shop, threw open the storage room, and grabbed the first thing he saw—several pig heads.

  Triumphantly, he dashed back toward the square—until he stopped mid-stride.

  Wait… I need the bodies, not the heads.

  He groaned, turned around, and ran back again. By the time he finally returned with the right ingredients, most contestants had already started cooking.

  Only one other contestant had finished his hunting process early—the same guy who had prepared beforehand. His dish was already halfway done.

  So it’s between me and him, huh?

  Ruden took a deep breath and focused. If he wanted to win, he couldn't just cook any meal. He had to make the meal.

  Memories of his childhood flooded back—the first time he had ever tasted truly delicious pork. That flavor had driven him to become a chef. That taste had become his standard of perfection.

  He wasn't just cooking now. He was recreating a dream.

  With expert precision, his knife glided through the meat, cutting it into perfect slices. He seasoned it instinctively, his hands moving faster than his thoughts. The fire flared as he seared the pork, locking in the juices. The rich aroma filled the air, making even the spectators drool.

  Minutes passed in a blur, and before he knew it, time was up.

  The contestants lined up their dishes before the judges. The Taste Master stepped forward first, inspecting the dishes one by one.

  First was the pre-prepared contestant’s Melon Bird Steak—tender, flavorful, and well-cooked. The village chef nodded in approval.

  Then, he reached Ruden’s dish.

  The moment he took a bite, his eyes widened slightly. He chewed slowly, as if savoring every moment.

  Ruden smirked. I got him.

  But then…

  The chef set his fork down and cleared his throat. "The Melon Bird Steak wins."

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  Ruden's smirk faded. "What?"

  The village chef crossed his arms. "Your meal was good, but the other contestant was better. That’s my decision."

  Ruden clenched his fists. He could tell—the village chef had been biased from the start.

  Then, the village chief stepped forward. "Let me try."

  The village chef hesitated. "There's no need—"

  The chief silenced him with a glare and took a bite of Ruden’s pork. Immediately, his expression changed. He nodded slowly, then turned to the crowd.

  "The real winner is Ruden."

  A cheer erupted from the spectators.

  The village chef paled. "But—!"

  "My vote counts as two," the chief reminded him.

  Ruden threw his hands up in victory, already turning to the other contestants with a smug grin. "Haha! I told you all! I'm the best chef in town now!"

  But before he could finish celebrating, the chief clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  "Yes, and that's why your new title is Village Chef’s Assistant."

  Ruden froze. "...Wait. What?"

  The village chef, who had been fuming moments ago, suddenly grinned.

  "You still need to learn, boy. If you're gonna take my place one day, you’d better be ready for some real work."

  Realization dawned on Ruden.

  He had just secured himself a full-time job under the very man he had mocked.

  The village chef's smile widened. "Better wake u

  p early tomorrow. We start at dawn."

  For the first time that day, Ruden's face fell.

  He had just won the battle—only to lose the war.