She, once an ordinary office worker, had spent the previous night binge-watching dramas. This indulgence rendered her daytime productivity dismal, resulting in a severe reprimand from her supervisor. Left to toil overtime alone, she hastily consumed a bento, only to choke with no one around to save her. Thus, she met an untimely demise.
Yet, the story had just begun. She regained consciousness, standing before an extraordinarily handsome man who introduced himself as the god overseeing the gates to all worlds. His words flowed like a river, but his striking visage and chiseled abs were too captivating, causing her to miss most of his explanation. She only caught snippets about an "opportunity" and a "mission" that required her presence in another world.
Suddenly, a radiant light enveloped her, and an overwhelming force propelled her into another time and space. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself crying, her tiny hands waving helplessly before her.
What? She had to start from infancy? Regret flooded her as she realized she hadn't listened to the god's explanation. She had hoped to immediately hone her survival skills in this new world, but now she couldn't even manage to turn over.
There was no point dwelling on it. The pressing concern was her gnawing hunger and the urgent need for milk. But why was such an adorable baby left unattended in a cradle? Where was her mother?
It took eight years for her to fully grasp the situation: this was a world where the Demonic God descended, filled with bizarre anomalies. Potatoes conducted electricity, tomatoes screamed (hearing which would turn one to stone), and eggs could never be whipped into stiff peaks.
The realm she found herself in was under the protection of the God of Cuisine, with a strong national policy encouraging mages to work in the culinary field in the attempt to avert a nationwide famine crisis.
Yet, this could not forestall the looming threat of the Demonic God's prophesied doomsday. The populace had to offer a specific dish dictated by the God of Cuisine in order to amass enough divine power to fend off the impending world’s end. This year's chosen dish was the soufflé.
On the day of her turning exactly one month old, her mother, an ordinary cook in a remote village, perhaps due to some miraculous reason tied to childbirth, suddenly managed to whip the eggs into stiff peaks. The entire family and the whole village, realizing its significance, hastily placed her mother, who was still beating the eggs, onto a carriage. Before daybreak, they arrived at the Holy City, where the finest culinary mages crafted the sacred soufflé and saved the world –well, temporarily.
Her mother and father remained in the Temple of the God of Cuisine in Holy City, serving as the divine egg-beater and assistant, while her and her brother were left in the village, raised by their elderly grandparents.
Her brother was determined to become a culinary mage who served the humanity well, just like their mother. He often dragged his young sister along, venturing up mountains and into the woods in search of cooking ingredients.
His dream was to create the prophesied raw Demonic God’s egg with soy sauce on rice and offer it to the God of Cuisine. It was said that this would cause the Demonic God's power to vanish, restoring peace to the world. But no one knew what a Demonic God’s egg was (Grandfather speculated it referred to the two things between the legs, earning him a smack on the head from Grandmother each time he mentioned it). In this remote and desolate frontier, almost at the edge of the God of Cuisine’s protection, everything was affected by miasma. There weren’t even any ordinary wild fowls, let alone eggs.
She walked behind her brother, her heart heavy with the worries. After all, the whole family and village incessantly spoke of him—being the son of extraordinarily gifted egg-beater mage, destined for greatness, bound to bring pride to the village and honour to their family. The pressure placed on her brother at just ten years old was immense, and she found herself caught up in his acts of living up to it.
Lost in thought, she tugged at her brother's sleeve.
"Let’s go back. It is terribly eerie here," she said, glancing around at the twisted vines hanging from the gnarled trees shrouded in thin fog.
Her brother gently patted her head, offering a reassuring smile that seemed to say, "Don't worry; leave everything to me."
At that moment, a massive shadow suddenly emerged from the swamp before them. She let out a startled scream and fell to the ground. Her brother immediately shielded her, eyes wide with apprehension as he gazed into the murky depths.
The colossal creature descended from the sky, and if it were a wild fowl, they would be in serious trouble—after all, this place was devoid of ordinary wild fowls, only those monstrous, miasma-tainted varieties with numerous sharp teeth. Yet, as the fog parted, the shadow became eerily familiar. A blank face appeared, reminiscent of a blunt arrow shape, the kind that was all too common.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
If she wasn’t mistaken, it was just the tilapia her grandmother often cooked in her past life. Except, it was simply far too large—no, it could be described as extraordinarily massive. But after witnessing what were essentially feathered dinosaurs known as wild fowls, the orca-sized tilapia didn’t seem so intimidating.
The unfortunate tilapia, entangled in the vines, twisted its body desperately trying to break free.
"Don't be afraid; it's just a swamp fish," her brother said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "It probably jumped out of the water and got stuck." He truly wanted to find wild fowl eggs to practice making his egg rice dish. "Let’s keep moving."
"Wait." She was reluctant to continue, especially with the fear of being pursued by miasma-tainted wild fowls. Her gaze fixed on the giant tilapia as she racked her brain, trying to think of a way to convince her brother to head home.
Then she noticed the fish's mouth opening and closing. "I feel like eating some fish eggs."
"Fish eggs? Where?" His eyes lit up with hope.
She pointed to the fish. "In its mouth. Look."
So, the siblings cautiously made their way around the swamp to the side of the fish. Under her brother's magic, they carefully retrieved several shiny, dark yellow eggs from the fish's mouth, each one resembling a slippery little gem.
Her brother contentedly tucked the eggs into a cloth bag. "Let’s find a spot for a picnic!" he suggested cheerfully.
No. Absolutely not! This was the swamp! Not only were there wild fowls, but frogs too! She felt like bursting into tears. Yet, years of training as a corporate slave had conditioned her to mask her true emotions.
"Then, what should we eat?" she asked hesitantly, aware that her stomach was starting to growl.
"How about a fish egg dish? Like egg over rice."
"Remember Grandma said that the Fire God was eaten by the Demonic God, so we can’t just start a fire outside a stove or without a proper fireplace, let along frying eggs."
"Raw egg rice wouldn’t be too bad either."
"And there’s no rice in the wild. Besides, the rice Mother sent from the Holy City last month was all finished. Grandma just asked Grandpa to dig up some potatoes yesterday." Indeed, from today onward, electrifying potato fries will reappear on the dining table.
"Then how about we just swallow them whole?"
"Let’s just go home..."
"Or we could heed the God of Cuisine's guidance," her brother said, pulling out the family heirloom Holy Cookbook from his backpack. He recited a few prayers, then drew a shape -- of something she would consider a chef’s hat in her past life -- across his chest. With his eyes closed, he solemnly opened the book.
She gazed in terror at the page.
It was mayonnaise! Thank goodness; at least the God of Cuisine was watching over them, ensuring it wasn’t something beyond her brother's skill, like lemon cheesecake.
He retrieved a bowl, spoon, and seasonings—sugar, vinegar, oil, and salt—along with the only normal crop in this world: lemons. True to the son of the egg-beater mage, he whipped the fish eggs into a remarkably smooth mayonnaise in no time. Once lemon juice was added, the stink of the fish completely vanished.
They found a drier spot to sit on the ground. Her brother unveiled their lunch-to-be: ham and garlic herb bread, then generously slathered with the creamy mayonnaise. The taste of the ham sandwich was elevated to new heights—how moist and refreshing.
Sometimes, it seemed, it was worth it to trust her brother after all.
Having feasted and quenched their thirst, the anxiety of the wilderness melted away. She nestled comfortably against a tree stump, gradually slipping into a dreamlike state.
This place felt like a dream because before her stood that impossibly handsome god, his chiselled abs glistening in the light.
"What are you still doing here?" the god asked, his tone sharp enough to make her almost shout, "I'm sorry, sir!"
"The Demonic God will die in eight years; you’re running out of time."
"If the Demonic God dies, does that mean peace for the world?"
"I explained this in detail eight years ago. Before the Demonic God dies, it will give birth to the next, and you must assist the hero to put an end to it before the new Demonic God hatches." She might have been given an explanation, but she hadn’t really been listening—all because of those abs!
"Well. Who is the hero?"
"Your brother!" the god exclaimed, his voice laced with indignation. "Since you seem so incapable, I shall lend you a hand. In this world tainted by miasma, I bestow upon you the power of purification." With a graceful wave of his hand, he invoked his magic.
"What does this purification power entail?" she wondered. Was it akin to wielding the radiant light of a holy sword to vanquish foes, making the miasma vanish in a flash? That sounded rather splendid—surely, just like what she used to read in novels, plots of reincarnation should come with such grand abilities. It was a far cry from last year, when she turned seven and was taken to the nearby local Temple for the God of Cuisine's blessing, only to discover her magical potential was next to non-existent. The eyes of her family and village had dulled in that moment, and her existence began to feel increasingly insubstantial. Only her brother remained by her side.
It was worth noting that her brother, blessed by the God of Cuisine and endowed with limitless magical potential. Well, he was destined to be a hero after all.
"I have infused you with the remnants of divine powers from all the gods who used to exist in this world, except for the God of Cuisine. Given your current capacity for divine power, when the miasma is absorbed into your body, you will be able to activate it, manifesting as a seven-coloured purifying light emanating from your body. To put it in simpler terms, imagine yourself as a sponge, cleansing this world."
Had she been sipping tea at that moment, she would have surely sputtered it across the room. Indeed, after serving as the office tea-fetcher and dishwasher for far too long, now she was to become a rainbow sponge of cleansing!
"I—I think this power might not suit me very well," she protested in the most unambiguous manner she could muster.
"You have eight years," the god replied, dismissing any argument. "Moreover, the hero must undergo rigorous training in the Holy City to learn how to extract apple juice by hand when he turns sixteen. Should this not occur, you shall await the world’s destruction alongside him."
With that, she jolted awake, glancing at her ten-year-old brother's sleeping face. She resolved then and there: she must cultivate her brother into a reliable man, a hero of this world.