Chapter 18

“You said you knew magic just a moment ago, but when I ask you to teach me, you claim you don’t know. Do you know it or not?”

―I do know about magic but not how to use it.

Hmm. What does that mean?

“So, you’re saying you know magic exists but don’t know how to use it?”

The Magic Dictionary’s pages rustled.

―Is that so? I’m not quite sure.

Urgh… I see.

The conversation ended and I ate a hamburger. I’m not sure if this Magic Dictionary is teasing me or just purely stupid, but it’s clearly useless right now. However, the way it critiqued the Fireball earlier seemed somewhat mocking, so I think it was probably teasing me.

It feels like I made a wrong job transition. All the skills are somehow crappy. I should have just gone with Necromancer. Oh right, I was made to change jobs against my will.

Is the system that grants skills like ‘Magic Dictionary’ or ‘Magic Records’ in their right mind? Or is this some sophisticated meddling aimed to hinder me? Hmm…

Am I thinking too much because I’m hungry? I should stop indulging in useless thoughts and continue eating.

While eating the hamburger, Doyugeon confirmed with the Magic Dictionary that the information he experienced matched his skills.

It seems that there wasn’t much difference between the knowledge before and after using the Magic Dictionary. Although the skills answer when used, you can also sense them, so maybe there’s no need to ask the Magic Dictionary questions about the skills.

―Do you have no more questions, Master? Feel free to ask anything.

“Is ‘Master’ really the appropriate address?”

―Would it bother you?

“The title itself doesn’t matter. However, how about showing an attitude that fits the title?”

―Is that so? I don’t know what attitude fits it.

Yes, or something like that.

“I know. Deactivation of the Magic Dictionary for Apprentice Mage.”

―Whaaat?!

[The Magic Dictionary for Apprentice Mage—OFF]

With a terminal moan, the Magic Dictionary fell. I tapped the magic book a couple of times but there was no reaction. Is it dead?

“Hey… Did I offend it?”

“Not really. Rather, have you finished eating?”

He showed me the almost empty bag of french fries. There were a few left.

“You’re clearly offended. I figured it out when you started eating the hamburger silently.”

He continued his argument.

“Poor Magic Dictionary. Because of meeting the wrong owner, now it’s deactivated and left to tremble in loneliness. If I were a hidden class, I would have treated it better.”

“Your emotional attachment is excessive. It’s like a turned-off computer.”

“Can you be certain?”

“Just hurry up and eat.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll eat the leftover fries.”

“Help yourself.”

I handed over the remaining fries I was going to eat. While waiting for him to finish, I opened the magic book and wrote down about my Job skills.

Overall Evaluation: Useless things that can be substituted by memory and a clumsy person’s unauthorized occupation of someone else’s research notes.

After finishing the meal and logging out to dispose of the garbage, I thought it would be a good time to log out and part ways, but having reached level 10, I decided to try killing an orc.

I flew leisurely along a dirt path that crossed the forest. Doyugeon walked beside me, scanning the forest, then asked,

“Where’s the orc?”

“If we walk a bit further, it should soon come into view. Right?”

An orc that had been loitering quite a distance ahead suddenly changed direction and came straight onto the dirt path. What?

It was roughly two meters tall, shirtless but muscular, so it didn’t seem lackluster. As I heard from online forums and offline gatherings, there were no weapons, so they just use their bare hands?

Shouldn’t the orc look a bit weaker?

“Looks like the orc noticed us quicker than Doyugeon.”

“That’s certainly true.”

The orc bent down and picked up a boulder that was too large for him to wrap his arms around. Hmm? The distance is dozens of meters, but is he going to throw it at this distance? Is it some kind of battle ritual?

The orc prepared his stance then threw the boulder. Uuh?! I dodged to the side as it flew past. Missing by just a step, the boulder crashed into the ground, kicking up dirt. Why is the accuracy so bad? I almost died.

“I’ll take care of it!”

Doyugeon shouted that, but he had already run far ahead wielding his sword. If you were just going to take care of it, why ask?

The orc took a few steps towards the forest and punched a smaller tree with his fist. Once the tree fell, the orc skillfully hoisted it and carried it overhead. Excuse me?

The orc swung the tree at Doyugeon. Doyugeon slid under the tree and kept running forward while swinging his sword. The sword slashed across the orc’s neck, and golden dust scattered.

But that was all. Was the orc’s hide too tough or was there some kind of fantasy element? The orc dropped the tree and landed a punch. The sword that blocked the punch broke in half.

Doyugeon’s posture wavered from the shock and he shouted,

“One-handed Sword Enhancement!”

The young man forced himself to leap, spun his body, and slashed, cutting off the orc’s head with the broken sword. The half-broken sword glittered amidst the golden dust.

Intense.

Doyugeon, who tried to land after falling onto the dead orc, stumbled and fell because he didn’t step on the tree properly.

“Kyaak!”

Everything else was good, but the finishing move was…

I approached him.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course! Forget that, how was I just now? Didn’t that moment of coolness surpass everything as I overcame a crisis and seized an opportunity? Gya!”

Saying that yourself completely ruins any coolness that was there. I really debated whether I should objectively enlighten him or let him forget this embarrassing incident while staying unaware, which might be more fitting for youth.

“If I must say, you looked less cool and more absurdly cute.”

I checked if he was injured anywhere. As expected, there was a wound on his cheek that was bleeding. It looked like it got slashed by fragments when the sword broke.

I arranged my magic and used a healing spell. The cut healed closed and disappeared. Nice, nice. This is exactly why I learned healing magic. It feels rewarding.

I took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his cheek. Or rather, tried, but he turned away.

“What’s the matter? Why are you dodging?”

“Huh? Ah, I’ll do it myself.”

Doyugeon snatched the handkerchief and wiped himself. Continuing to speak,

“Physically weak bookworms have difficulty even lifting their arms, right? Even more so with a height difference of 16 centimeters. Hahaha.”

“Very impressive.”

After wiping his face, he handed me the handkerchief. I circled around him again to check if there were any other wounds.

“Are there any other wounds?”

“Shouldn’t be. Anyway, since we’ll log out soon, there’s no need to heal further, right?”

“That’s true, but it’s good practice to use healing magic. It’s for the future too, you know. By the way, wasn’t that hunting just now too dangerous? It felt like you were gambling your life. The sword broke too.”

He picked up the sword that had fallen apart when he tripped. It was in two halves. While a broken sword can be fixed by knowledgeable people, since Doyugeon doesn’t like such things, the spare I have is the only one he can immediately use, unless we switch to a different type of sword I don’t normally use.

“The broken sword is quite a big hit.”

He laughed a bit awkwardly and continued,

“Therefore, from next time onwards, I plan to be more cautious in my fighting style.”

“Good. Glad to hear that.”

He’s made the same resolution a few times before, but I just let it slide. He’s a teenager after all.

*

What should I do first to prepare a lunchbox? Naturally, I must start by reading. By studying a cookbook to understand the theory and context, I can reduce trial and error. The important thing isn’t perfect mastery, but reducing trial and error.

However, a minor issue arose. As I expected before reading it, the cookbook wasn’t interesting. Why should I even know that the brown substance on roasted meat isn’t caramel? Granted, understanding the chemical reaction can help me cook delicious meat, but I don’t find it interesting. Honestly, at home, I could just hire a chef to eat well or just eat out.

If it were interesting, I would have read it already in my past or present lives, so there would be no need to search for cookbooks now. Given that my mother recommended it, saying it was fun and useful, it seems like a good book for those who enjoy cooking, but it’s dull for me.

“Mom. These aren’t interesting.”

“Are they? Then what should we do?”

After some thought, my mom brought me a cookbook filled with recipes instead of theories. Shouldn’t such a book have been given first?

After cross-referencing recipes for a few days, I decided to try making tamagoyaki, which serves as the garnish for the lunchbox.

I entered the kitchen and took out a carrot and green onion. Just as I was about to take out the eggs, my mom entered the kitchen.

“What’s our daughter doing?”

“I’m going to make tamagoyaki.”

“Oho. Tamagoyaki? Our daughter?”

My mom burst out laughing. Why is she laughing like this since last time? Even if it’s not obvious, in my previous life, I could manage basic cooking even while living alone. Granted, I relied more on delivery and dining out due to the hassle of grocery shopping and dishwashing, but still…

Ignoring her laughter, I placed the peeled carrot on the chopping board. I first intended to shred and then finely chop it. The diced carrots and green onions in the tamagoyaki might look nice, but eating it is better with smaller bits. If they’re too big, the ingredients and the egg separate, leading to a situation of misplaced emphasis.

I cut the carrot. My knife handling felt clumsy and slow, possibly due to my previous-life experience being reset, but it’s fine. It’s expected at the start.

But with my mom watching closely on the side, even obvious things felt embarrassing. I stopped the knife.

“Mom, can you step outside the kitchen?”

“I’m just worried our daughter might cut her hand.”

Even though her smile betrayed otherwise.

Ignoring her again, I resumed chopping the carrot. About halfway through, fatigue set in. With this left, I still needed to shred the green onion, prepare the eggs, cook them, and then make the tamagoyaki… When will it all be done?

An idea popped into my head, so I stopped the knife. Do I really need to cut them with a knife? All the cookbooks showed pictures of cutting with a knife, but reading isn’t about blindly following book content.

Reading is about understanding the essence—grasping the logic and observing the author’s thought patterns to uncover the essence. The key isn’t the content, but the essence that the author uses in their writing.

The essence of cutting the carrot isn’t about using a knife but ensuring the carrot is cut into edible sizes. Therefore, the method doesn’t strictly require a knife.

I left the knife and rummaged through the kitchen to retrieve the blender. Just as I partially took it out, my mom laughed from the side.

What? Can’t I use the blender? Feeling a bit self-conscious, I glanced at her and she waved her hand.

“No, no, using the blender is fine. If it’s fine, then it’s fine.”

“I’m not making carrot puree. I’ll just blend it a bit.”

Mom nodded her head. Although slightly skeptical, she approved. Let’s blend then.

After slicing the carrot roughly, I started blending it slowly, checking the consistency in between to prevent over-blending.

Once the carrots were done, I roughly cut the green onion. Honestly, my experience hasn’t led me to have much trial and error with cutting green onions.

I cracked the eggs into a bowl, added sugar and salt for seasoning, then mixed in the carrot and green onion. Good. Now it’s the final stage.

I poured the egg mixture into a square pan, rolled it, greased it again, and repeated the process. Now, I’ll flip it over and let it cook until it turns golden—done.

I placed the tamagoyaki on the chopping board and waited for it to cool. Once it was adequately cooled, I cut it into pieces and just needed to taste.

“Wow, I’m so proud you managed to make tamagoyaki.”

My mom came from behind to embrace me.

“Mom, what do you think I am?”

The lavish praise makes me feel awkward. Is tamagoyaki really that big a deal?

“Uh… A spirited but cute young lady?”

Is that a positive or negative evaluation?

While I was pondering, the videophone rang. We have a guest. After my mom left the kitchen and shortly opened the door, who was it?

“Hi. I’m here!”

It was Yumina.

“Coming without an appointment, what’s the occasion?”

“You always say that. Oh, it’s tamagoyaki, isn’t it? It’s resting, right?”

“It’s not exactly resting, but more or less, yes.”

Yumina, inspecting the tamagoyaki, shifted her gaze to me.

“Could it be that our beloved young lady knows how to cook?”

A look of cultural shock crossed her face.

“How on earth is my image formed?”

I don’t understand why both my mom and her act this way.

Yumina chuckled.

“I’m just surprised in a good way.”

I don’t really trust her since I feel she doesn’t like me much.

The tamagoyaki seemed about cooled, so I picked up the knife and slowly cut it.

“Usually, I don’t cook much. These days, I’ve been eating a lot of delivery food, so I thought I’d try making a lunchbox this time. I figured, considering Doyugeon normally eats delivery food, it would be nice if he at least has a lunchbox to eat when he logs in.”

“Hmm… That’s quite thoughtful.”

Looking at the side of the cut tamagoyaki, I suddenly realized something. The carrots weren’t uniform and it didn’t look pretty. Now I understand why my mom initially laughed when I brought out the blender but then said it was fine to use it.

I picked up a piece of tamagoyaki and fed it to Yumina.

“How is it?”

“It’s delicious.”

Is this really good for my first attempt? Maybe I naturally have a talent for cooking. I took a piece and ate it.

Umm… It’s neither particularly soft nor is the seasoning spot on. It’s a mediocre, middling taste—hard to call it delicious but too harsh to call it awful.

“Is this really delicious?”

“Is it not?”

If I have to be honest, it’s not good.

“It’s not good.”

“Is that so?”

Yumina picked up another piece, ate it, and tilted her head as she continued.

“It does seem so.”

Regrettably, the effortfully-made tamagoyaki is a failed piece. Beginners start this way, I suppose, but I’m not really motivated now.

“Maybe I’ll quit trying to make my own lunchbox and order from a professional company instead?”

“Isn’t that still delivery food?”

“That’s true. Ah, yes. Then it’s better just to hire a chef.”

Although I avoided considering a chef because I thought Doyugeon might find it burdensome, let me ask an appropriate, budget-friendly lunchbox service that focuses on healthy, low-sodium options.

I threw out the tasteless tamagoyaki and left the kitchen.

“I’m going to practice magic next. What will you do?”

“I’ll watch.”

“Alright, if you want.”

After all, encountering an Orc that threw boulders made me feel the need for defensive magic. I plan to create some this time.

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