The applause was a hollow, rhythmic thudding that Liam felt in his teeth more than his ears. It hadn't even fully settled when the voice on the microphone cut through the auditorium's artificial chill.
"Second place. Liam..." A pause, just long enough to be a snub. "—Yoo."
Liam stepped forward. Not a muscle in his face betrayed his thoughts. To them, the hardness in his crimson eyes was the stunned desolation of defeat. Inside, though, his mind raced—tight, cold, strategic. He'd missed precisely three National Exam questions. Each is a silent act of rebellion. Any higher, and his father would chain him to the Ministry of Finance. Any lower, and military school would swallow him whole.
Second place was the "Dead Zone." It was the place where expectations went to die, and for Liam, it was the only place he could breathe.
As he walked across the stage, his 6'6" frame made the principal look like a child. Liam moved with a predatory grace, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the front row. People moved aside without realising why. They saw the silver-white hair and the red irises—the undeniable hallmarks of the Yoo family and they felt a primal urge to clear a path.
The principal shook his hand, muttering something about "great potential." Liam nodded, the lie sliding off him like rain. He didn't want potential. He wanted out.
Behind him, the room ignited.
"First place, Elizabeth Kim."
The applause shifted. It wasn't polite anymore; it was hungry. Elizabeth walked up, pink hair, confident stride, a perfect fit for the pedestal they'd built for her. Liam watched her from the corner of his eye. He didn't hate her. He respected her. She was a "Top Tier" player in the game of life. She played the Meta. She optimised her social standing. She was a machine of perfection.
And Liam was the glitch in the system.
The hit was clean. Practised and silent.
Liam's head snapped to the side, the copper tang of blood blooming against his tongue. They were in the corridor now, away from the cameras. His mother stood five feet away, her eyes fixed on the "Exit" sign as if she were waiting for a train. She didn't move. She never did.
"Second," his father spat, voice poisonous, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. His fist yanked Liam's collar tight, suffocating him under the tailored suit. "Do you even understand what shame you've brought us? We're nothing now—barely a rumor. You wasted your nights on worthless cooking, groveling over filth, while Elizabeth Kim soared past you in everything. You humiliated us, you humiliated me."
Liam stared down. The taste of metal lingered on his tongue. Why fight back? It never mattered—his words never changed anything. Silence was the only shield he had left.
"You're not even worthy of air unless you can surpass her," his father growled, his grip cold as steel. "Look at her."
Liam's gaze was forced toward the glass doors. Elizabeth was laughing, surrounded by flowers and cameras.
"She is a fortress," his father whispered. "She is a wall that no one can climb. And you? You're just a target."
Liam's jaw tightened. A target. The words settled in his mind, shifting and twisting until they turned into something else. A wall. His father wanted him to be a weapon, but Liam had spent enough time in kitchens to know that weapons break.
The Yoo household was a tomb of wrapped plastic and silence. Liam took his dinner. the same chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli he'd eaten for three years, and retreated to his room. He locked the door. The click of the bolt was the only "level up" sound he cared about.
He pulled a sleek, black VR headset from its hidden cardboard box. He had paid for it in sweat. Six months of late-night shifts busing tables, clearing plates, and shadowing chefs in back-alley bistros where no one cared about his last name.
He slid the visor on.
"Welcome to Aero Online," a calm, feminine voice spoke. "The first fully immersive virtual environment. All sensory systems are active. Please proceed with character initialisation."
The world dissolved. Liam stood in a void of white light. A menu flickered into existence.
[Select Class]
The options scrolled past: War Mage, Shadow Striker, Berserker. Everyone on the pre-release forums was obsessed with DPS (Damage Per Second). They wanted to be the ones who saw the big numbers. They wanted to be Elizabeth Kim—the stars of the show.
Liam's finger hovered over [Vanguard].
The community called it a "Mascot Class." Vanguards were slow. They had no flashy kills. They were the ones who stood in the front and took the hits so the "real" players could win. But Liam saw the hidden mechanics.
30 Seconds of Invincibility, he thought. Double HP scaling. Double Defence caps. In a world where death is a constant threat, the one who can't be moved is the one who controls the flow of the battle. He wasn't picking it to be a hero. He was picking it because a Vanguard was the ultimate survivalist. He clicked.
[Select Life Skills]
[Cooking (Level 1)]
[Live Streaming (Level 1)]
Liam added the streaming skill as an afterthought. He'd use a voice changer and a POV camera. He'd be a ghost in the machine, earning enough gold to buy the rare ingredients the real world denied him.
[Character Creation: Randomise?]
"Confirm," Liam said.
In the real world, his 6'6" frame was a beacon for disappointment. He wanted to be small. He wanted to be something that no one would ever expect to see standing at the front of a raid.
The world shifted. Liam's centre of gravity dropped. His balance felt lighter, his perspective lower. He looked down at his hands—they were tiny, his wrists thin and pale. He caught his reflection in the shimmering system panel.
He was a girl. A small, silver-haired girl with the same red eyes he'd always had. He looked like a doll, a mascot.
A low, husky chuckle escaped his throat. It was his real-life voice, deep, resonant, and entirely wrong for the body he was in.
Camouflage, Liam thought, his red eyes glinting. No one looks for a monster in a dollhouse.
[Enter Name: Little Liam]
He hit [ENTER].
The white void shattered. Liam stepped onto the cobblestones of a bustling medieval-style plaza. The air hit him first—it smelled of lavender, horse manure, and fresh rain. It was more real than the sterile air of his father's house.
"Status," he whispered.
A translucent blue panel appeared in front of him.
[Status Window]
Name: Little Liam
Level: 1
Class: Vanguard
Title: None
[Attributes]
HP: 150 / 150 (Vanguard Bonus Applied)
Stamina: 100 / 100
Mana: 50 / 50
[Base Stats]
Defence: 20 / 100 (+5)
Attack: 15 / 100
Speed: 15 / 100
Intelligence: 10 / 100
Luck: 10 / 100
[Class Skills]
[Bull Rush (Level 1)]: Charge a target with your shield. Causes 3s stun. 20s CD.
[Invincible (Level 1)]: Total immunity to all damage for 30 seconds. 30m CD.
[Life Skills]
[Live Streaming (Level 1)]
[Cooking (Level 1)] * NOTE:Legendary Skill Unlocked: [Absorption]
Effect: Consuming monster parts grants unique Recipes.
User Multiplier: All buffs are increased by 10,000x for 24 hours.
Ally Multiplier: All buffs are increased by 100x for 12 hours.
Liam read the [Absorption] note once. Then he read it again.
10,000x? He stood frozen in the plaza. Around him, other players were screaming with joy, swinging their wooden starter swords. He saw a group of Mages bragging about a passive skill that gave them +2% Mana Regeneration.
Liam did the math. A basic 'Strength' buff from a Tier 1 meal usually gave +1 to a stat. With his multiplier, that would be +10,000.
His base Defense was 20. If he ate a basic defence-boosting meal, he wouldn't just be "tanky." He would be an indestructible glitch.
They haven't balanced the Life Skills yet, Liam realised, a cold, sharp thrill running down his spine. The developers think cooking is just a 'flavour' profession. They think it's a minor support role for the 'real' players.
He looked at his tiny, girl-like hands. He looked at the tattered leather apron that hung off his small frame. To the world, he was "Little Liam," a harmless, silver-haired girl who wanted to play chef.
I guess I'm not playing the same game as everyone else, he thought.
Suddenly, the world around him froze. The colours bled into grey, and the plaza's noise died. A golden flame flickered into existence a foot from his face. It didn't look like a system prompt. It looked ancient.
["The Hearth Goddess Hestia, one of the Twelve Olympians, gazes upon you. She smiles and offers her blessing. Use it well, child of fate."]
Warmth, thick and sweet like honey, flooded his chest. It was the first time in his life he felt "full."
[System Notification: Divine Subscriber Found!]
[User 'Hestia' has subscribed to your stream!]
[Goddess Hestia has donated: 1x 'Ever-Burning Blue Flame'.][Goddess Hestia: "I'm hungry, little wolf. Show me something the Heavens have never tasted."]
The world snapped back to life. Liam stood there, his red eyes glowing faintly within the shadow of his silver hair. He didn't know why a Goddess had chosen a streaming chef, and frankly, he didn't care. In his world, a patron was a patron, whether they were a regular at a bistro or a literal Olympian.
He didn't rush for the gates like the thousands of other players screaming about "First Blood" and "Early Grinding." Instead, he looked at his tiny, pale hands, then back at the flickering notification of his [Absorption] skill.
10,000x.
The number felt like a ticking time bomb. If the devs found out, they'd bury this character in a heartbeat. He needed to be careful. He needed to be... "normal."
"Status," he murmured, his husky voice a jarring contrast to his small frame.
He stared at the 30 unassigned points. Most Vanguards would dump everything into HP or Defence. But Liam knew that a wall that couldn't hit back was just a punching bag. He needed balance. He needed to be a wall that could harvest.
[Defence: 20 -> 35][Attack: 15 -> 30]
He watched the numbers jump, a cold sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. Just act normal, he told himself, and suppressed a cough to cover it.
No reason to stand out…yet.
He looked around the medieval-style plaza. The light was perfect, the air smelled of woodsmoke, and a few feet away, a crooked stall sat wedged between the main flow of players. An NPC stood there, methodically arranging herb bundles, ignored by the crowd of "heroes" sprinting toward the exits.
Liam adjusted his oversized starter gear, the iron clanking against his small frame. He didn't look like a threat. He looked like a child who had wandered into the wrong game.
You wanted me to be a wall, Father? Liam thought, his gaze fixating on the herb stall. Fine. I'll be a wall. But I'm going to be the only one in this world who knows what's actually cooking.
"Status closed," he whispered.
He didn't head for the monsters. He headed for the man behind the counter. He needed a kitchen, and he needed it now.