He stared at her as she stirred a pot of thin stew, humming to herself despite the fatigue in her green eyes. And for once, he didn’t make a joke.

Fortunately, the problem solved itself.

Elaine wasn’t just Elaine the Mother—she was Elaine the Cook. Jobs had a way of finding you, even if you weren’t looking.

It happened one morning. A knock echoed against the wooden door, and Elaine, wiping flour off her hands, went to answer it. Standing there was an older woman, wrapped in a heavy shawl, eyes sharp despite the wrinkles that framed them.

“Elaine,” the old woman greeted, her voice carrying both warmth and familiarity. “It’s been some time. I heard you’ve been staying home with the little one.”

Elaine smiled tiredly, adjusting Ludger in her arms. “Yes, I’ve been… focused on him. He doesn’t cause much trouble, but it’s still a lot to manage.”

The woman’s gaze softened as she peeked at Ludger, who—ever the actor—blinked up at her with innocent baby eyes. Inside, he was already filing away vocabulary words like a miser stacking coins.

The woman nodded before continuing. “Well, the tavern on the east street is in need of a cook again. Their last one finally retired, and I told them I knew just the person. Your food has always been a blessing, Elaine. They’d be glad to have you.”

Elaine’s eyes widened slightly. “The east street tavern? That’s… close enough. But I…” She glanced down at Ludger, brushing her thumb across his chubby cheek. “I can’t leave him alone.”

The old woman chuckled. “You wouldn’t have to. Bring him with you. The tavern’s not a battlefield, child. You can keep an eye on him while you work, and there are plenty of kind hands there if you ever need a moment’s rest. Besides, little ones grow stronger seeing their mothers at work.”

Elaine hesitated. Ludger felt it in the way her arms tightened slightly. For a second, he thought she might refuse.

Then she sighed, her lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “If it truly wouldn’t be a burden… then yes. I’ll take it. Thank you for thinking of me.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Wonderful! I’ll let them know to expect you tomorrow.” She patted Elaine’s arm before shuffling away, leaving the faint scent of herbs and smoke in her wake.

Elaine closed the door gently, leaning her forehead against it for a moment before looking down at Ludger. “Well, my little one,” she whispered, “it seems Mama is going back to work.”

Ludger, still bundled like a burrito, blinked up at her. Inside, his thoughts were far less sentimental.

“Finally,” he mused, smirking on the inside. “The cook returns to her post, and maybe—just maybe—the system will stop ignoring me. Time to find out if this whole ‘Job Master’ thing means what I think it does.”

And for the first time, he felt anticipation buzz sharper than boredom.

A few days later, Elaine’s new life—and by extension, Ludger’s—officially began. The tavern wasn’t grand, but it was lively: warm with the smell of roasted meat, onions, and ale, the air always carrying the hum of voices. To Ludger, it was like being dropped into the center of a fantasy drama set… except he was stuck in the role of “baby prop, stage left.”

Elaine carried him in on her hip, exchanged greetings with the owner, and after a short round of chatter, she set him down in a cushioned basket tucked safely in the corner of the kitchen. From there, he had a perfect view of the chaos.

“Stay here, my little one,” she whispered, brushing his forehead with a kiss. “Mama will be close.”

She wasn’t lying. Even as she tied her apron and introduced herself to the rest of the staff, her green eyes flicked back toward him every few minutes—just enough to confirm he hadn’t spontaneously combusted or crawled into a pot of stew.

Ludger wiggled in the basket, taking it all in. The banging of pots, the hiss of oil, the rhythm of knives on cutting boards. Elaine moved like she belonged, her blond hair tied back neatly, her sleeves rolled, already slipping into the role as if she’d never left it. People smiled at her, welcomed her, and within minutes she was stirring a pot like she’d always been there.

Ludger smirked inwardly. “So this is the workplace, huh? Smells good, looks chaotic. And me? I’m just sitting here like a decorative cabbage. At least she can work while keeping an eye on me… but the real question is: will the system notice?”

He shifted his gaze, half expecting the HUD to flicker with a new notification. Any moment now, surely something like—

(Apprentice of Elaine the Cook has gained experience!)

…but nothing. Just the same empty screen mocking him with ten-in-everything stats.

“Figures,” he grumbled to himself. “Six months in this world, and I’m still useless. In stories like this, the toddler years are supposed to be a golden window for breaking the system with cheat skills and magical nonsense. Me? I’m sitting in a basket watching my mom chop onions.”

Still, as Elaine glanced at him again—warm, tired smile lingering just long enough to reassure them both—he couldn’t be too bitter. Bored, yes. But bitter? Not yet.

“Alright, system,” he thought, eyes narrowing. “You win this round. But sooner or later, you’ll have to give me something. And when you do, I’m cashing in.”

Of course, the moment Ludger finished complaining—literally the moment—his vision flickered.

(New Skill Acquired: Knife Handling Lv 01)

(Increases proficiency with knives when chopping food. Reduces chance of self-inflicted injury when handling knives.)

Ludger froze. “Wait… what? Knife Handling? I haven’t touched a knife since… well, since I was old enough to be trusted not to stab myself with one. And now, as a baby burrito, I’m supposed to unlock a culinary skill?”

His tiny fists flexed in the blanket, breadstick arms trembling with equal parts indignation and awe.

“Seriously? Out of all possible starting skills—fireballs, mana bolts, shadow steps—the universe gives me knife safety training? What am I supposed to do, julienne my enemies?”

Then he realized it.

Elaine, across the kitchen, was doing exactly that—well, minus the enemies part. She had a cutting board in front of her, hands moving with smooth precision as she sliced through carrots, potatoes, and onions. Her rhythm was calm, efficient, and utterly ordinary. Nothing flashy, nothing magical. Just the steady chop of a cook at work.

And somehow, watching her triggered his skill.

“…Unbelievable,” Ludger muttered in his head, staring at the faint glow of the system message still hovering before him. “I’m not just reincarnated—I’m getting skills by proxy. The system is literally teaching me how not to cut my fingers while my mom makes stew.”

He sighed, long and deep, which came out as more of a squeaky exhale through his tiny nose.

“Well, great. Everyone else gets to slay dragons or discover ancient grimoires as babies. Me? I’m a six-month-old with OSHA training. Truly, destiny has chosen wisely.”

But even as he grumbled, Ludger felt the faint thrill of it—the first crack in the system’s indifference. A new skill. Proof that he wasn’t invisible. Proof that the game was finally on.

Naturally, Ludger assumed this was just the beginning. If the system wanted to hand out skills for free, then he was ready to collect the entire cookbook. He waited, eyes sharp as Elaine moved on from chopping to stirring, to kneading, to seasoning. Each motion, he braced for another flicker of text across his vision.

Nothing.

Not when she whisked eggs, not when she stoked the fire, not even when she taste-tested her own stew with the seriousness of a royal taster checking for poison.

“Really?” Ludger grumbled to himself. “One lousy skill, then radio silence? What about ‘Fire Stirring Lv 01’ or ‘Salt Precision Lv 02’? Don’t tell me this system only cares about knives.”

He huffed and pulled up his status screen to sulk at the familiar numbers. Except… something looked off.

Strength: 01

Dexterity: 02

Intelligence: 02

Vitality: 01

Wisdom: 02

Endurance: 01

Luck: 01

His eyes narrowed. “Hold on. That’s new.”

Dexterity, Wisdom, and Intelligence had all ticked up by +01 since the last time he checked. He flicked through the menus (well, mentally willed them open like a very serious baby Jedi) until something new appeared.

(Cook Class: Apprentice Bonus Active)

(Dexterity +01, Wisdom +01, Intelligence +01)

And below that, another screen branched out:

Cook Lv 01 – Skills

Knife Handling Lv 01 (12/100 EXP)

Ludger blinked, then laughed—well, squeaked, but it was the spiritual equivalent of laughter.

“Oh, I see how it is. No flashy spells for me, nope. I’m starting life with the prestigious powers of ‘Don’t Chop Your Fingers Off 101’ and a slight boost to brain and hand-eye coordination. Congratulations, Ludger—you’re a culinary prodigy with the raw stats of a B-grade sous chef.”

Still, his eyes lingered on the new panel longer than he meant to. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A foothold. Proof that skills had levels, that experience accumulated, and that his class—even if it was Cook—was alive.

“…Alright,” Ludger thought, smirking to himself. “So this is how it works. If the system wants me to start as a baby chef, then fine. I’ll play along. But just know—one day, I’ll trade Knife Handling for Dragon Handling.”

Little by little, the Knife Handling skill ticked upward. Every time Elaine chopped another pile of vegetables or diced meat with that steady rhythm, the numbers in his vision crept forward.

(Knife Handling Lv 01 — 37/100 EXP)

It was steady, reliable. And yet… that was it.

No matter how much the skill bar crawled along, his Job didn’t budge. His Class Master remained empty, his own level stubbornly stuck at one. Ludger himself wasn’t getting any experience at all.

“Fantastic,” he thought, sighing internally. “So I’m a glorified spectator. My mom’s the one working, my skill’s the one growing, and I’m just here providing emotional support from a basket. At this rate, the only thing I’ll level up is patience.”

While he brooded over that, the tavern life introduced him to another kind of torture: old ladies.

They popped into the kitchen constantly—some delivering herbs, others just looking for gossip. And every single one of them, without fail, made a detour to his basket.

“Oh, what a darling little face!” Pinch.

“Such round cheeks!” Pinch.

“He looks just like his mama!” Pinch.

Ludger endured it stoically at first. But by the tenth visit in a single day, his patience was threadbare.

“Seriously,” he grumbled, as another set of wrinkled fingers squished his cheeks together. “I’m not a stress ball. Stop treating me like tavern entertainment. At this rate, I’ll evolve into a hamster. Or worse, a dumpling.”

His tiny hands flailed uselessly at the invaders, which only made the women laugh harder. Elaine smiled too, though she always gave him a sympathetic glance between stirs of the stew.

Ludger sagged back against the blanket, cheeks red from the relentless assault.

“Fine,” he muttered in his head. “Keep pinching. But if this triggers a hidden skill called ‘Cheek Resistance Lv 01,’ I’ll never forgive this system.”

It took a full week of waiting, watching, and sulking in my basket before I finally understood how this system really worked.

The answer came the moment Knife Handling dinged up to level two.

(Knife Handling has leveled up!)

(Cook Job +10 Experience)

Ludger stared at the glowing text in disbelief. Then stared again just to make sure my baby eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“…So that’s how it is, huh?” I muttered internally. “Skills feed into Jobs. Jobs feed into me. It’s like an experience pyramid scheme, and I’m stuck at the top waiting for my cut.”

It was a bit roundabout, but logical enough. If Knife Handling leveling up gave the Cook Job experience, then when the Cook Job leveled up, I would probably get a little bonus of my own—ten points, maybe, the same way skills did. The math checked out. The logic checked out. The part where I, a six-month-old reincarnated genius, was gaining experience in culinary safety techniques still felt like a cosmic joke… but I’d take it.

“Alright then,” I thought, smirking inwardly. “So all I have to do is let my masters do the heavy lifting while I leech exp like a parasite. Works for me. If I’d known freeloading was a viable strategy, I’d have chosen it years ago.”

Still, there was something else to consider. The system had triggered just from me watching Elaine chop vegetables. That meant it wasn’t about me doing the task—it was about me observing.

Which raised an interesting possibility.

“If I can gain experience by watching them,” Ludger thought, eyes narrowing as another old cook wandered by to gossip, “then maybe I can gain just as much by listening when they teach me things. Language, knowledge, random trivia—it all might count.”

The more Ludger considered it, the more it made sense. This wasn’t just about jobs or skills—it was about masters. The system wanted him to learn from them, absorb what they knew, and grow by proxy. A lazy man’s dream… if the lazy man happened to be a baby who couldn’t crawl without getting cheered like an Olympic athlete.

Ludger sank deeper into my blanket, satisfied. The rules were finally showing themselves, and the game was on.

Naturally, Ludger had to confirm his theory.

So, he listened. Every time someone passed through the kitchen, he tuned in. Old ladies gossiping about their grandkids. Drunken customers slurring about taxes. Even the delivery boy rambling about his cart wheel squeaking. He sat there in his basket, straining his ears like some pint-sized philosopher, waiting for the sweet ding of experience.

Nothing.

Not a flicker of the HUD, not a scrap of EXP. Ludger even tried focusing extra hard—squinting his eyes like he was about to shoot laser beams—still nothing.

“Figures,” I muttered inwardly. “The system won’t reward me for learning actual things. But chop vegetables? Oh, suddenly I’m gaining wisdom. Great design choice.”

Ludger tried to rationalize it. Maybe it only worked when the Job Master taught me something directly. Or maybe it only applied to practical skills and not useless chatter. Or maybe—just maybe—the system was trolling him for its own amusement. None of the explanations felt solid, and after weeks of mental gymnastics, he gave up.

Time marched on, and before Ludger knew it another six months had slipped by.

Then, finally, something new happened.

(Knife Handling has reached Lv 11!)

(Cook Job has reached Lv 05!)

Ludger blinked as the menus shifted, glowing faintly before expanding with the familiar text.

(+1 to Dexterity, Intelligence, and Wisdom.)

(New Skill Unlocked: Basic Cooking Lv 01)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep