Player Chapter 32. You are Sadistic!
Modern layout. Stainless steel counters. Cabinets fully stocked with spices thanks to Rank E unlock.
He stood there for a second.
Exhaled.
"Okay."
Food experiment time.
He remembered how to make it.
Osmanthus Oolong Milk Tea.
Except here…
Amber Veil Leaves instead of oolong.
Golden Flowers instead of osmanthus.
Honey for sweetness.
Fresh milk.
He placed everything neatly on the counter and pulled out the cup he borrowed earlier and washed it thoroughly. Set it aside carefully.
"Ice, I can handle," he muttered.
He extended his palm slightly.
[Ice Manifestation]
Small cubes formed cleanly in a bowl.
The tricky part wasn't ice.
It was roasting and drying.
Amber Veil Leaves needed light roasting to bring out depth.
Golden Flowers needed gentle heat to release aroma without burning.
He flexed his fingers.
[Fire Mana Manipulation (Low Intensity)]
A faint controlled flame hovered above his palm.
He carefully spread the leaves on a flat pan.
Slow heat.
Not too much.
He adjusted temperature instinctively.
This wasn't combat.
This was finesse.
He dried the Golden Flowers gently, rotating them so they didn't scorch.
The first attempt.
Too much heat.
The aroma turned bitter.
He tasted it.
"Nope."
[Result: Burnt.]
Second attempt.
Too weak.
Flavor flat.
Milk overpowered everything.
He grimaced.
"Still wrong."
[Result: Imbalanced.]
"Stop narrating my failures."
Third attempt.
He adjusted timing.
Shorter roast.
Lower heat.
Longer steep.
He combined brewed leaf extract with flower infusion.
Added honey carefully.
Poured milk slowly.
Swirled.
Ice cubes dropped in gently.
He lifted the cup.
Steam curled faintly upward, even with ice, aroma balanced.
He took a small sip.
Silence.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
It wasn't exact.
The flower note was slightly softer.
The leaf bitterness slightly deeper.
But… It was close.
Very close.
A warmth crept into his chest that had nothing to do with temperature.
[Congratulations! You have successfully crafted: Osmanthus Oolong Milk Tea.]
He froze.
"…You're kidding."
[New Skill Acquired: Cooking]
His eyes widened slightly.
A new panel appeared.
[Cooking (Passive/Active Hybrid Skil)l]
[Enhances flavor precision through mana control. Allows ingredient substitution with improved outcome. Increases buff effect of consumables created by user. Chance to create bonus effect when crafting high-emotion dishes.]
He stared at the last line.
"High-emotion dishes?"
[Emotion enhances outcome.]
He stared at the cup in his hand.
"Interesting."
He took another sip.
It tasted… nostalgic.
Different world.
Different ingredients.
Same warmth.
"Nice," he murmured quietly.
He poured some into the cup and some into a sealed flask and placed them into his inventory carefully.
He cleaned the kitchen meticulously. Washed tools. Wiped counters. Put everything back. He glanced around the Pocket Dimension once more and nodded to himself.
"Okay."
Then his expression shifted slightly.
Right.
Now the Fake vampire.
He stepped out of the Pocket Dimension and back into his temple room.
Stone walls. Medieval simplicity. Slight temperature difference.
He adjusted his tunic and exited quietly.
The corridors were dim. Most acolytes already asleep.
He walked calmly toward the chamber where the fake vampire was being held.
Not because he was suspicious.
Just…
Common sense.
He reached the guarded room and gave a small nod to the posted acolyte.
"Checking the witness."
The acolyte hesitated, then stepped aside.
Riven stepped inside.
The fake vampire sat bound within Elena's barrier.
Still alive.
Still tense.
He looked up when Riven entered.
"…You."
"Me."
Riven leaned against the wall casually.
"You alive?" His sarcastic tone was clear.
Ralen frowned. "Unfortunately."
"Good."
Silence stretched between them.
Riven studied him carefully.
"You eaten?"
Ralen glared. "The prince fed me."
"See? I provide full service."
Ralen didn't respond.
Riven walked closer.
Not threatening.
Not dramatic.
Just observant.
"You're safer here than anywhere else right now," Riven said casually.
Ralen's eyes flickered slightly.
Riven caught that. "There are people who'd rather you dead," he continued lightly. "But you're more useful breathing."
Ralen swallowed slightly.
Riven smirked.
"Don't think too much."
He stepped closer, studying the fake vampire properly this time. Not the act. Not the powder. Not the fake fangs. The actual body underneath.
Bruises still faint under the skin. Shallow cuts from earlier. Signs of exhaustion. Malnourishment, maybe. And the way his shoulders slumped slightly despite trying to sit upright.
Yeah.
One stupid strike.
One stray blade.
One "oops" from a corrupt guard.
Dead.
That would be inconvenient.
Very inconvenient.
Riven clicked his tongue softly.
"You look like you could die from sneezing too hard."
Ralen's eyes narrowed. "I am fine."
"You're not."
"I am."
"You're barely above tutorial NPC durability."
Ralen blinked.
"What?"
"Never mind."
Riven reached into his inventory and pulled out one of his Basic HP potions.
Ralen's eyes flicked to it.
Suspicious.
"What do you want?" Ralen asked.
"Healing you."
Ralen stiffened.
"I don't need—"
"Yes, you do," Riven cut him off calmly. "I need you to survive. I don't want you stumbling in the hallway tomorrow and dying dramatically. That would ruin the pacing."
Ralen stared at him like he was insane.
Riven uncorked the potion.
"C'mon. Open up."
Ralen winced and leaned back as far as the bindings allowed.
"I'm not drinking that!"
Riven blinked slowly.
"Why?"
"You're smiling."
Riven paused.
He looked down at his own face.
Oh.
He was.
He deadpanned immediately.
Then, without warning, he stepped forward, grabbed Ralen's face, and pinched his cheeks together.
Ralen made a muffled noise.
Riven grinned like a certified lunatic.
"I said drink it."
He forced Ralen's mouth open and poured the potion in.
Ralen coughed, choked slightly, tried to spit it out, failed miserably, and ended up swallowing most of it.
[Basic HP Potion Used on Target]
A faint glow ran through Ralen's body.
The bruising lightened.
The shallow cuts sealed.
His breathing evened out.
Ralen blinked.
Then blinked again.
His hands flexed weakly against the bindings.
"…You—"
Riven released his face and stepped back casually.
Ralen rasped, "You are sadistic!"
Riven stared at him.
"I didn't whip you."
Ralen opened his mouth.
"I healed you."
Ralen closed it.
"And you call me sadistic?"
Riven spread his hands slightly. "It's called efficiency."
"Pinching my face is not efficient!"
"It was faster than arguing."
Ralen spluttered.
Riven leaned against the wall again, folding his arms.
"You're alive. You're healthier. You're less likely to collapse. That's a win."
Ralen stared at him with pure disbelief.
"You're not normal."
"Correct."
Silence stretched between them.
Ralen finally muttered, "…Why?"
Riven raised a brow. "Why what?"
"Why heal me?"
Riven considered that.
Then shrugged.
"Because I don't like losing assets."
"I'm not an asset."
"You are."
"I'm a prisoner."
"You're a talking one."
Ralen stared at him.
Riven continued casually, "Also, if someone tries to kill you and succeeds, I'll have to redo the whole investigation arc. That's annoying."
Ralen blinked slowly.
"…Arc?"
"Nothing."
Riven pushed off the wall and walked closer again, but this time without grabbing him.
"Look," he said more quietly. "You're safer alive. For you. For me. For her."
Ralen's eyes flickered.
"The Saint?" he asked carefully.
Riven didn't answer directly.
Instead, he said, "Maybe."
Ralen stared at him for a long moment. "You're not a knight. You're not temple-trained. You're not even officially affiliated with anyone." Then why are you involved?"
Riven shrugged. "I was bored."
Ralen's expression twisted. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting tonight."
Ralen leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly.
"…You're strange."
Riven smiled faintly. "I know." Then he left.