The FOOD sucks!

The room is dark, save for the faint slivers of moonlight filtering through the curtains. The house is silent, the only sound being the occasional rustling of trees outside. It's midnight, and yet, here I am—wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

I shift under the thick, luxurious blankets. The bed is absurdly comfortable, and yet, sleep refuses to come. My mind is still racing from everything that happened today.

The system, Seraphina, the damn fire sword incident… and the fact that I nearly flashed a QUEEN because of some overenthusiastic maids.

I sigh, rolling onto my side. "I'm so bored."

Genesis flickers to life in my vision.

[Would you like a sleep aid?]

I narrow my eyes. "What, like some magical melatonin?"

[Negative. I can list various methods to induce sleep, such as deep breathing exercises, muscle relaxation, and—]

"Yeah, no thanks." I groan, sitting up. "If I can't sleep, I might as well do something useful."

That's when an idea sparks. Creation Magic.

I glance down at my hands.

I levelled it up so much earlier—why not put it to use?

Closing my eyes, I focus. Instead of something flashy like a sword, I picture something small, familiar, useful—a notebook. A simple one, like the ones I used back in my world.

I envision the cover, smooth and flexible, with a slight texture beneath my fingertips. The pages, crisp and lined, ready to be filled with thoughts, sketches, or plans. The binding, sturdy enough to hold everything together.

A soft blue glow flickers in the air before me, tiny arcane bricks forming piece by piece. In seconds, the notebook materializes in my lap.

I let out a slow breath. "Huh, that worked?"

Flipping it open, I run my fingers across the pages.

Perfect.

But what's a notebook without something to write with?

I focus again, picturing a simple pen—a smooth barrel, an easy grip, ink that flows seamlessly. Another flicker of blue light, and the pen appears between my fingers.

I twirl it experimentally. "Alright, now we're getting somewhere."

With nothing else to do, I start writing, testing the ink, scribbling notes, even doodling a few things from memory. For the first time since waking up here, I feel… normal.

- THE NEXT DAY -

Mina stood before her, hands clasped as she gave her report. "The maids have knocked several times, my queen, but there's been no response."

Seraphina sighed, putting her quill down. "He's either still asleep or ignoring them."

After a pause, she shook her head. "I'll check."

She pushed open the door quietly, her footsteps light against the wooden floor. She hadn't heard anything suspicious, but something told her to check on him.

The moment she stepped inside, she froze.

The floor was covered in sheets of parchment—no, not parchment. The texture, the cut, even the way they were stacked felt unnatural to her, almost too uniform. The ink sprawled across them in complex diagrams, sketches of things she had never seen before. Strange symbols, unfamiliar mechanisms, ideas that made no sense in her world.

Her sharp blue eyes landed on the object in his hand—a small, bound book with thin, delicate pages. She picked it up from his hand and feel this weird contraption.

A slender, ink-filled stick moved effortlessly between her fingers, leaving perfect, dark lines on the paper with unnatural precision.

Her brows furrowed. What in the world…?

There was something unsettling about the items. Not in a dangerous way, but in how foreign they felt—how utterly out of place they were in this world. The book, the writing tool… they carried a sense of advanced craftsmanship beyond what even the royal scholars could produce.

And yet, here he was, casually creating with them like it was second nature.

Seraphina exhaled, stepping further inside. "What… is all this?"

Behind her, the maids, who had been peeking curiously from the hallway, gasped at the sight before them.

The entire room was a chaotic battlefield of scattered papers, dozens upon dozens of sheets sprawled across the floor. Complex diagrams, strange symbols, and sketches detailed with almost frightening precision covered every surface. If a medieval scholar walked in, they'd either pass out or have an existential crisis.

But the real absurdity is Christian himself.

He is asleep—or, rather, in a position that vaguely resembled sleep. His upper body was sprawled face-down on the ground, while his legs remained perched on the bed like he had collapsed mid-thought.

Seraphina ran a hand down her face. What the hell am I looking at?

In Christian's dream, a deafening drumbeat blasted through his head.

Christian shot up instantly, eyes wide, his body moving on pure survival instinct—his stance immediately shifting into something resembling a karate-ready pose, fists raised and legs positioned for a fight.

Seraphina instinctively took a step back, watching in bafflement as he wildly scanned the room like he was about to punch a ghost.

Then, his brain caught up.

The mess—papers scattered everywhere like a scholar's worst nightmare.

Seraphina standing in the doorway, looking utterly dumbfounded.

The maids behind her, staring like he had sprouted a second head.

The system's glowing text, flickering nonchalantly in front of him, giving a lazy [Shrug].

He blink. Then blink again.

"…What the actual hell?"

The room remained silent as everyone stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Seraphina crosses her arms. "Yeah, no, really—what is all this, Christian?"

His eyes darted between the mess he made and the audience he had unintentionally gathered.

"Uh… I can explain?"

Instead of elaborating immediately, he turn to Seraphina, lowering his voice.

"Do the maids know? About the kids?"

She exhale through her nose, her gaze steady. "Yes. They don't serve the kingdom. They serve this house."

With that reassurance, he took a deep breath.

If they were all in on this secret, then might as well make things more efficient.

He focused, pulling energy through his fingertips.

Thirty notebooks. Thirty pens.

Blue light flickered across the room as objects materialized in neat stacks on the table. The air vibrated with residual magic, and then—

Gasps filled the room.

The maids stared in awe, their eyes wide with excitement.

"He made these from nothing!" one whispered in disbelief.

Another tentatively picked up a notebook, flipping through the crisp, lined pages with reverence.

"This… this is incredible! No more messy ink stains!" she exclaimed.

Seraphina, equally astonished, grabbed a pen and twirled it between her fingers, testing the balance. She open a notebook and pressed the tip of the pen to the page. The ink flowed effortlessly—smooth, controlled, and immediate. No dipping, no blotting, no waiting for it to dry.

"This is… vastly different from quill and parchment" she murmured, her voice tinged with admiration. 

"It's faster. More precise. No wasted ink."

The maids nodded eagerly, each testing the writing tools, their excitement growing. "This could change writing!"

Christian stood at the center of it all, smug as hell, arms crossed over his chest, his posture exuding absolute satisfaction. His lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk as she basked in their amazement.

Genesis, ever the dramatic system, flickered into his vision with a celebratory fanfare.

[Achievement Unlocked: Revolutionary Scribe!]

[You've successfully introduced a world-changing innovation! Would you like a title to go with that?]

He snorted. Damn right I would.

[Creation Magic Level Up! → Level 11]

[New Sub-Ability Unlocked!]

[Sub-Ability: Mass Production]

[You can now create multiple identical items at once with a reduced mana cost. The more you create in one go, the more efficient the process becomes. Be mindful—creating too many at once may still result in exhaustion.]

His eyes widened as he read the description. Oh? Now this is neat.

Seraphina, still flipping through the notebook, looked up and cleared her throat.

"Christian, join me for breakfast in the dining hall."

With a stretch and a yawn, he nodded, following her out. As they walked through the hallways, his eyes wandered over the grand estate, but nothing prepared him for the sheer scale of the dining hall.

The dining table is enormous, stretching across the lavish room, made of deep mahogany with intricate carvings along the edges. The polished surface reflected the soft morning light that streamed through towering stained-glass windows.

Every child from the orphanage, including Adam, was already seated, chatting quietly as they waited for the meal to begin. Behind them, maids and butlers stood firm, disciplined and poised, awaiting orders.

Christian's gaze drifted to the food before them—freshly baked bread, golden and steaming, crisped to perfection. Platters of roasted meats, seasoned with aromatic herbs. Bowls of rich, creamy soup, their scents tantalizing. Fresh fruit, vibrant in colour, arranged in a decorative spread.

Near each plate, goblets of polished silver reflected the morning light, filled with what looked like fresh juice or wine, depending on age. The entire setting screamed luxury, yet the atmosphere remained warm and welcoming.

As he eyed the spread before him, a thought crossed his mind. 

Usually, in the novels, manga, or manhwa, the food always tastes amazing to the protagonist, right?

[Correct] Genesis replied in its usual monotone.

Grinning in anticipation, Christian eagerly took a bite of the roasted meat, expecting an explosion of flavour.

His jaw slowed. Then stopped.

Why the hell was this so bland?!

He tried the bread next—it looked warm and fluffy but tasted like air with a hint of flour. 

The soup? It smelled rich but had all the depth of water with a couple of herbs thrown in.

His excitement rapidly turned into betrayal. He furrowed his brows and stabbed the meat with his fork like it had personally offended him.

We're in a fantasy world, right? So why does this taste so… plain?

The maids and butlers stiffened, exchanging uncertain glances. One of the butlers hesitantly stepped forward.

"Mr Christian, is there an issue with the food?"

He set his utensils down with a thud. "Okay, tell me exactly how you cook this. What ingredients do you use?"

The butler, clearly unsure how to respond, glanced at one of the maids, who hesitantly stepped forward. "Well, we prepare the bread using the finest ground flour, water, and a bit of salt. Once kneaded, it is baked in a stone oven until golden brown."

Christian's eye twitched. No yeast? No butter? No sugar?

"And the soup?" he pressed.

"We boil bones for several hours to create a hearty broth, then add boiled vegetables and a touch of salt for flavour" the maid explained proudly.

Christian resisted the urge to groan. No herbs? No spices? No depth of flavour?!

"What about the meat?" he asked, now dreading the answer.

"The meat is seasoned with salt and cooked over an open flame until it is fully done. Sometimes, we brush it with a bit of animal fat for extra richness."

Christian clutched his forehead.

So that's why everything tastes like disappointment! No real seasoning, no complexity—just the absolute bare minimum!

Genesis flickered into view, its text appearing with an exaggerated [Sigh], followed by a lazy [Shrug].

[You are in another world. A world without modern technology, where seasoning and cooking techniques have not evolved the way you are used to. Also, you haven't even stepped outside the house yet, so maybe you shouldn't complain about free food.]

Christian scowled. Excuse me for having standards, Genesis. My taste buds are suffering.

His stomach grumbled, but the thought of eating another bland meal made him want to cry.

Nope. Absolutely not.

Fine, if they don't have real seasonings, I'll make them myself!

Focusing his Creation Magic, he imagined spices—salt infused with herbs, pepper, finely ground garlic powder, onion powder, and even butter. One by one, glowing arcane bricks snapped into existence, forming neat jars of modern cooking essentials on the table.

The maids and butlers gasped, staring in disbelief.

Christian smirked. "Alright. Now let's fix this tragedy of a meal."