Chapter 86: It’s Magic!

The walk back to the scullery was a wet, squelching parade of misery.

Ren led the way, her messy red hair plastered to her skull and her red puffer coat dripping swamp water onto the pristine stone floors. Syris walked beside her, radiating a level of irritation that was almost palpable. His heavy robes were soaked, clinging to his skin, and his hair—usually a sleek curtain of midnight black—hung in wet, sad clumps around his face, framing his amethyst eyes which narrowed with every squelch of his bare feet.

“I feel like a drowned rat,” Syris hissed, shaking his sleeve.

Kael prowled down the corridor, looking less like a King and more like a Calvin Klein model. Syris had provided a loincloth, but evidently, snake beastmen were generally… slimmer.

The strip of leather was struggling. It was fighting a losing battle against Kael’s massive, tan thighs and his formidable hips. His white hair was matted down, water dripping from the ends onto his broad shoulders, where his natural dark stripes stood out starkly against his tanned skin.

Every time he took a step, the leather creaked in protest, threatening to snap and unleash the “Tiger King” upon the world once more.

“Tight,” Kael grumbled, his long, striped tail twitching agitatedly behind him. “Itch.”

“Don’t touch it!” Ren snapped over her shoulder, her green eyes flashing a warning. “If that snaps, we are back to square one!”

She turned her mind back to the problem at hand: The Menu.

’Okay, Chef. Patient is a 300-pound tiger with Bitter-Root toxicity, exhaustion, and mild malnutrition. He needs a liver flush.’

She ran through her mental recipe index. In her world, she would make a turmeric and ginger broth, maybe a beet salad, or a heavy dose of activated charcoal.

But here?

Syris’ garden was expansive, sure, but she didn’t know half the plants. One wrong mushroom could turn “Detox Soup” into “Instant Death Stew.” She couldn’t risk foraging for antioxidants she couldn’t identify.

“I need ginger,” Ren muttered, her voice barely a whisper. “I need garlic. I need… a miracle.”

She paused.

’Wait. The Update.’

She had been so distracted by the “Harem Manager” feature that she had barely looked at the Shop Expansion.

Ren pulled up the shop interface in her vision. It hovered translucently. She scanned the list.

[Shop: The Homemaker’s Arsenal]

Sriracha Sauce (Bottle): 50 XP

Soy Sauce (Gallon): 100 XP

Bag of Basmati Rice: 200 XP

Detox Herb Bundle (Ginger, Turmeric, Lemon): 150 XP

Stainless Steel Stock Pot (20L): 300 XP

Soap (Bar – Lavender Scent): 10 XP

Ren stopped walking.

She stared at the last item.

Soap. 10 XP.

Ten. XP.

“Are you kidding me?!” Ren screamed at the air.

Syris jumped, his claws instantly extending as he dropped into a defensive crouch, his amethyst eyes darting around for a threat. “What? What is it?”

“No!” Ren yelled at the empty air, ignoring Syris’ panic. “It sells soap! It has sold soap this whole time! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Ding!

[System Response: You didn’t ask.]

Ren let out a strangled noise of rage. “I hate you. I hate you so much,” she muttered furiously under her breath.

She quickly navigated the menu, buying the soap, the Detox Herb Bundle, the Stainless Steel Stock Pot, a High-Carbon Chef’s Knife, and a Bag of Rice.

[Transaction Complete. Cost: 560 XP. Remaining Balance: 1,890 XP. Items stored in Inventory.]

“Hmph,” Ren grunted, marching forward again. “At least I have ginger now.”

Syris slowly retracted his claws, straightening up and eyeing her warily. “You are shouting at spirits?”

“Just the annoying ones,” Ren muttered.

They reached the scullery archway. Ren braced herself for the smell of blood, but as she stepped inside, she gasped.

It was spotless.

The stone floors had been scrubbed until they shone. The prep tables and air were devoid of any biological residue.

The Coral snake and the Albino snake were standing by the hearth, looking exhausted but terrifiedly proud.

“Mistress!” The Coral snake bowed low. “We scrubbed! We scrubbed everything!”

“It’s beautiful,” Ren said, genuinely impressed. “You guys are amazing. Five stars. Michelin quality sanitation.”

The two girls beamed, their tails wiggling with happiness.

Then, Kael walked in.

The light in the room shifted. The air grew heavy.

Kael stopped at the threshold. He sniffed the air.

His eyes, glowing a deep, dangerous crimson locked onto the two trembling snake girls.

“Meat,” Kael rumbled.

He took a step forward. His claws extended.

“SCREEEE!”

They scattered like bowling pins. The Albino snake tried to climb the chimney. The Coral snake dove under the sink.

“Kael! No!” Ren shouted.

She pulled her heavy cast-iron skillet from her inventory. She banged it loudly against the stone counter. CLANG!

“Bad kitty! Friends! Not food!”

Kael flinched at the noise, his ears flattening against his head. He looked at the cowering snakes, then turned his glowing red gaze to Ren, looking disappointed. “No eat?”

“No eat!” Ren pointed to the far corner of the room, near the woodpile. “Corner! Go sit in the corner! You are in timeout until the soup is ready.”

Kael whined. He slunk over to the corner, his striped tail dragging on the floor, and sat down on a pile of firewood, sulking.

“Syris,” Ren ordered. “Watch him. If he tries to eat the staff, hit him with a broom.”

Syris looked at the pouting tiger. He looked at Ren.

“I am a King,” Syris reminded her, his voice tight. “I do not babysit.”

“You do if you want dinner,” Ren said, not even looking at him.

She walked to the main prep table. The Coral and Albino snakes peeked out from their hiding spots, trembling.

“Okay, girls, come out,” Ren said gently. “It’s safe. Now, I need a fire. A big one.”

She took a deep breath. It was time for the magic show.

Thud.

A massive, gleaming, stainless steel stockpot materialized instantly under her hands.

The room went silent.

Clatter.

A shiny, razor-sharp chef’s knife appeared next to it.

Thump.

A bundle of bright yellow turmeric roots, strange knobby ginger, and fresh lemons appeared.

Thud.

A heavy bag of white rice dropped onto the table.

The two snake girls gasped in unison. The Coral snake’s eyes were so wide they looked like dinner plates.

“M-Mistress?” the Albino snake squeaked, pointing a shaking finger at the shining metal pot. “Where… where did that come from? It appeared from the nothingness!”

Even Syris abandoned his post by the woodpile. He drifted closer, his black hair dripping onto his shoulder, his amethyst eyes locked on the stainless steel. In the Beast World, metal was rare—mostly iron or bronze. This was silver, mirrored, and flawless.

“Ren,” Syris said slowly, reaching out to touch the cool metal of the pot with a pale finger. “What is this sorcery?”

Ren froze. She couldn’t exactly explain that she was a transmigrated reality TV Michelin chef with a digital grocery store in her head.

She stood up straighter, flipping her damp red hair back and putting on her most mysterious face.

“It is… Ancestral Chef Magic,” Ren lied smoothly. “A technique passed down in my family. We can summon the Tools of Flavor from the Spirit Realm.”

She looked at Syris. “It consumes a lot of energy. That’s why I need you to behave.”

Syris looked at her with a newfound mix of suspicion and awe. “The Spirit Realm has… these things?”

“Yes and much more,” Ren confirmed.

She clapped her hands together, breaking the spell.

“Alright! Show’s over! We have a sick tiger to cure and hungry bellies to fill. Fire! Water! Chopping! Let’s move!”

She grabbed the knife. The weight of the modern handle felt like home.

“Time to make dinner.”

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