Chapter 25: Good Things Are Just Traps With Better Lighting

After a few minutes of cleaning up the crime scene (which mostly involved Ethan scrubbing his own blood off the kitchen tile while sighing about the unfairness of existence), the feast finally began.

Ethan had whipped up another massive batch of Bimbap, and the moment he set the bowls down, the atmosphere changed. It wasn't eating. No, eating is what normal people do. What was happening in this apartment was a coordinated tactical assault on food.

Zane, Kaela, and Lindis were inhaling the meal at a speed that would make a vacuum cleaner feel inadequate. They weren't even chewing; they were basically teleporting the food from the bowl to their stomachs.

“Oh my god,” Kaela gasped, her voice muffled by a massive mouthful of beef and spinach. “This is... gulp... unbelievable! The spice profile is a masterpiece! The heat hits you first, then the sweetness of the marinade kicks in, and the sesame oil just... it’s like a hug for my taste buds!”

Lindis was in a state of total sensory overload. She looked like her brain had been reset to factory settings. “I... I... can’t even think of what to say!” she whimpered, her eyes sparkling as she shoved another spoonful of gold-standard rice into her mouth. “It tastes like... like happiness and victory!”

Zane let out a loud, satisfied groan, leaning back. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I’m glad we actually listened to your little sister. If we hadn’t, I think I would’ve had a mental breakdown from the tragedy of never tasting this.”

Mia sat back, chuckling with the smug expression of a dealer who had just sold a goldmine. “Didn’t I tell you? My brother has an S-Rank talent for cooking. And believe it or not, this isn't even his full capability! He’s still half-dead from his cold, so he’s basically cooking on Power Saver mode.”

Ethan, leaning against the counter and looking like he wanted to dissolve into the floor, let out a long, suffering groan. “I want to feel proud. I really do. But at this point, I’m convinced my sickness is going to double tomorrow just from the stress of feeding you people. I can feel my immune system packing its bags and leaving.”

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Lindis exclaimed, suddenly snapping out of her food coma. She reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a sleek package of pharmaceutical-grade supplements. “We bought some medicine for you! It’s the high-end stuff—the most effective brand recommended for your symptoms. You just need to take it twice a day after eating!”

“Oh... thanks, everyone,” he muttered, looking away, his ears turning a light shade of pink. He was genuinely embarrassed, which for Ethan usually meant he looked like a confused potato.

Zane noticed immediately. “Wait, are you embarrassed? Look at you, blushing! Don't worry about it, kid. If you want to repay our kindness, just... keep cooking more of this. Please. I’ll literally pay you in gold bars if you keep this coming.”

Kaela nodded vigorously. “I completely agree. Show us more of your repertoire. Feed us until we can't move.”

Lindis leaned in, her curiosity returning. “Why are you so good at cooking, anyway? Where did this come from?”

Ethan’s expression softened, his sarcastic edge blurring for a moment. “Ever since I was a kid, I just... wanted to cook. But it was hard. Everything is complicated when you're broke. Ingredients cost money, equipment costs money... I spent years just trying to learn the basics with whatever we had. It was a lot of trial and error. Mostly error.”

And then, as if to prove his point, Ethan walked back to the table and placed down two more dishes with a flourish that felt almost theatrical.

CLACK.

First, a plate of Samgyeopsal—thick, succulent slabs of pork belly, grilled to a golden-brown perfection. The edges were crisp and caramelized, while the centers remained juicy and tender, glistening under the light. It was served with a side of pungent, fermented kimchi and a dipping sauce of sesame oil and salt that smelled like an invitation to heaven.

Then, a steaming pot of Tteokbokki. The chewy, cylindrical rice cakes were drenched in a thick, vibrant crimson sauce that looked like molten lava but smelled like a sweet-and-spicy dream. Pieces of fish cake and boiled eggs were nestled in the sauce, which was bubbling gently, releasing a pungent, appetizing aroma that filled every single corner of the tiny apartment.

The three hunters froze. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Zane whispered, his eyes locking onto the pork belly. “I’m just going to start eating.”

Ethan had finally joined the fray, chewing on a piece of perfectly grilled pork belly with a look of profound indifference. He sat there, surrounded by three of the most talented rankers in the region, who were currently acting like starved hyenas in a gourmet meat shop.

As he chewed, he lazily raised his chopsticks, pointing a piece of glistening pork toward the group like a very delicious accusing finger.

“So,” Ethan drawled, his voice sounding like he was speaking through a mouthful of clouds. “While you guys are busy treating my dining table like a competitive eating contest... did any of you actually bother to explain what happened three days ago? You know, the whole the giant, suffocating grey blanket of doom disappeared from the sky thing?”

Kaela paused, a piece of tteokbokki halfway to her mouth. “Nope,” she said simply. “I mean, the internet absolutely exploded within a day. It’s just a chaotic storm of theories right now. Some people think it’s a miracle, some think it’s a precursor to an apocalypse, and one guy on a forum is convinced it’s because the world’s mana-filter just got a software update.”

Zane leaned in, his face suddenly serious—or as serious as a man can look when he has a smudge of spicy red sauce on his cheek. “Yeah, I’ll tell you right now: IT IS WEIRD! Like, ‘glitch-in-the-matrix’ weird. The atmosphere just... shifted. One minute we're living in a gloomy charcoal drawing, the next we're in a 4K HDR travel brochure.”

Ethan stared at Zane, his eyes narrowing. “Right. And I’m sure your only goal in this conversation is to discuss the meteorological anomalies of the region, and not to distract me with ‘weirdness’ so you can unsuspiciously sneak another piece of my premium pork belly while I’m not looking.”

Zane froze, his hand hovering an inch from the pork. He blinked, then let out a loud, shameless laugh. “Ah! You caught me! A true warrior knows that the best loot is the loot you steal from your comrades!”

Lindis, who was currently trying to figure out if she could fit an entire rice cake in her mouth at once, looked up with a confused blink. “I don’t get it. What’s the big problem? The sky is clearer, the sun actually exists, and I don't feel like I'm living inside a giant grey sock anymore. Isn't that a good thing?”

Ethan sighed, a sound of deep, existential suffering. “Lindis, honey, in this world, good things are usually just traps with better lighting. That gloom didn't just appear for the aesthetic; it existed from the very moment the Gates opened. It was part of the system. For it to just... poof... disappear without a mana spike or a warning? That’s not a good thing. That’s a we are probably about to be eaten by something bigger thing.”

Kaela nodded, her expression turning slightly more serious. “That’s the part that really gets me. The weirdest part of all: that gloom only existed here. In Korea.”

“Eh? Seriously? I thought it was a global phenomenon. You know, like a worldwide smog-pocalypse?”

“Nope,” Kaela replied, leaning back. “Other countries never had the gloom. From the US to Europe, the skies have been clear this whole time. Only Korea was draped in that suffocating grey veil for years. We were essentially living in the world’s largest, most depressing fog machine while everyone else was enjoying the sunshine.”

Ethan stopped chewing. He stared at her, a piece of rice slowly sliding off his chopstick. “Eh? Seriously? I thought it was a global thing? You’re telling me the rest of the world has been enjoying 4K sunshine this whole time while we were living in a giant, grey Tupperware container?”

“Exactly,” Kaela confirmed. “No gloom in the US, no gloom in Europe, nothing. It was a localized atmospheric nightmare specifically designed for the Korean peninsula. Which makes the fact that it just vanished... fundamentally suspicious.”

He let out a long, dramatic groan and slid further down his chair until he was almost horizontal. “Great. Fantastic. Just my luck. I can’t even have a normal, depressing apocalypse. My life is literally a specialized version of misery. I’m going back to sleep. Wake me up when the sky starts raining fire or something—at least that would be consistent.”

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Real talk though: Is Ethan a lazy E-Rank hunter, or is he secretly an S-Rank Chef trapped in the wrong genre? 😂

Let me know your thoughts on the chapter in the comments!✨