Chương 5: A Way Back Into the Kitchen

The next morning, Chris was woken by his ringtone. He struggled upright on the couch, his neck aching badly from the awkward sleeping position. Sunlight came through the gaps in the blinds and threw bright bars across the floor. He glanced at the caller ID. His ex-coworker, Dave.

"Hey, Chris." The voice on the other end sounded a little hesitant.

"Hey, Dave." Chris's voice came out rough.

"I… I saw the teaser for the show." Dave paused.

"You doing okay, man?"

"Still alive." Chris tugged the corner of his mouth into something that didn't quite make a smile.

"Listen, I know nothing I say right now helps. But don't take what those idiots online said to heart, they don't know a damn thing about cooking." Dave's voice was earnest.

"That smoked pork belly you made — I still remember the taste of it. You've got the real thing." A wave of warmth crossed Chris's chest. When the whole world had thrown you out, a single sentence like that mattered more than anything.

"Thanks, Dave."

"Don't mention it. Listen — what's your plan now? You quit your job, so this…"

"Haven't figured it out." Chris told him the truth. He glanced toward the kitchen, where the potatoes from last night's practice still sat.

"So, here's the thing — my department's hiring a data analyst right now, mostly backend algorithm optimization. I know that used to be your work, and your chops are solid. Pay's good. You want to think about it? I can push your résumé through," Dave said. Back to IT? The thought flickered across his mind. It meant steady income. He could clear the credit cards, stop dreading the landlord's emails. He could go back to keeping cooking as a hobby, making dinners for friends on weekends, the way it used to be.

It looked like the most rational, safest road there was. But— Gareth Vane's furious face surfaced in his mind, and that line: Get out of my kitchen. Could he really make peace with it? Slink back with his tail between his legs, admit he wasn't good enough, admit he'd just been a daydreaming fool?

"Chris? You still there?"

"Yeah." Chris came back to himself.

"Dave, I really appreciate it. But… let me think about it, okay? I need some time."

"No problem, man. Hit me up anytime." He hung up and tossed the phone aside. He stood, walked to the window, and looked down at the street, people coming and going. Everyone moving fast, hustling for a living. He'd once been one of them — packed onto the train every day, eight hours at a screen typing code, anxious over quarterly KPIs and year-end bonuses. He'd quit that job to come do Burning Kitchen, precisely to escape that life.

Now reality had slapped him hard across the face and told him the road of the dream was crueler still. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. The phone buzzed again. A text from the landlord this time, the wording even less polite than the email, pressing him to pay next month's rent as soon as possible. A pulse throbbed at Chris's temple. Pressure. This was the pressure of reality.

Not short and explosive like Vane's roar — a slow boil, like the frog in warming water, eating away at your will without pause. He had to make money. Now. And just then, that familiar electronic chime sounded in his head. [Main Quest published: Return to Burning Kitchen] [Description: Win the next revival challenge to regain competitor status.] [Reward: Arena Points ×100, unlock new function "Dish Simulation."] [Failure penalty: System enters dormancy until the host once again meets activation conditions.] Chris froze. A revival challenge? He grabbed the phone at once and started searching online. He burned through every keyword: " Burning Kitchen revival round," " Burning Kitchen loser return," " Burning Kitchen wild card." Nothing. The official site, social media, fan forums — not a word about any revival round. Was the system playing him? Chris frowned, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him.

A hundred Arena Points and that impressive-sounding new function were tempting, sure, but if there was no competition at all, it was all empty talk. He paced the room twice, agitated, then decided to call Dave. Dave's girlfriend worked at an entertainment-media outlet — maybe she'd have some inside word.

"It's me again," Chris said, cutting straight to it.

"I want to ask you something. Your girlfriend — does she know if Burning Kitchen has anything planned coming up? Like, will there be a round bringing eliminated contestants back?"

"A revival round?" Dave hesitated.

"Haven't heard anything. Don't reality shows kill you off for good after one elimination? Hang on, let me ask her." The muffled sound of Dave and his girlfriend talking came through. Chris's heart climbed into his throat. A few minutes later, Dave's voice returned, edged with excitement.

"Hey, man, your luck's turning! She says she heard from a friend who works on the production crew — the director's team is in meetings about exactly this!" Chris's breath caught.

"Seriously?"

"Dead serious! She says that clip of Vane chewing you out blew up online. Tons of people are talking about you right now. The production team figures that if they bring back a contestant who got 'humiliated' out in round one, it'd be incredibly dramatic. Ratings would explode." Ratings… drama… Chris understood. In the production team's eyes, he wasn't a chef. He was a character, a tool for manufacturing buzz and conflict. His elimination was a spike; his return would be a bigger one. It didn't feel good.

Like a chess piece moved around by other hands. But at the same time, an enormous opportunity had been laid out in front of him.

"Are they definitely going to do it?" Chris pressed.

"Nine times out of ten. She says when something pulls ratings up like this, the producer has no reason to say no. Probably an official announcement soon. But… she says revival spots are few, the competition'll be fierce. And usually they only give them to contestants with buzz, or ones who really are strong." Chris hung up and let out a long breath. His chance had come. This wasn't a quest the system had fabricated out of thin air. It was a real possibility.

Sure, right now he was just a "viral punchline" in other people's eyes. That was fine. As long as it got him back into that kitchen, he had a way to shut every one of them up. He glanced at his savings balance. $237. 54. Time was short. He had to lift his ability to a whole new level before this money ran out. He opened the fridge. It was empty, just a few potatoes and half a stick of butter. He grabbed his wallet and keys and walked out of the apartment. He was going to the supermarket.

Not for frozen meals or bread — to buy the one thing he needed most right now. Ammunition. In the produce section he found the cheapest loose potatoes, heaped up in big sacks. He didn't hesitate. He hoisted the largest sack and threw it into his cart. Then butter — the most basic unsalted butter. A few heads of garlic, a bag of onions, the cheapest salt and black pepper. At checkout, the cashier looked at the lopsided pile in his cart and made a strange face.

"Sir, are you… throwing a party?"

"No," Chris said, watching the potatoes ride the belt.

"I'm preparing for battle." The cashier shrugged and didn't ask anything more. Total: $48. 31. He looked at the under-two-hundred dollars left in his wallet and felt no flicker of panic. This money was his last bet. These potatoes were the only weapon he had to get back to the battlefield. Back at the apartment, he dragged the big sack into the kitchen and dumped it on the floor. Dozens of potatoes of every size rolled out across the tiles. He looked at the pile, one thought in his head. Training starts now.