The next morning began like a slap.
Literally.
A palm struck my cheek hard enough to rattle a tooth. I blinked awake to the sour breath of a short, squat man in a black overcoat.
"Lazy mutt," he snapped. "You think dying gives you leave to oversleep again?"
Good morning to you too.
My system pinged quietly.
[New Task Assigned: Morning Fires]
Objective: Stoke all hearths in the lower kitchen wing before sunrise.
Reward: +1 Willpower / +Favor (Maela, Bran) / Unlock: Minor Perk Option
A perk?
Now we're talking.
I stumbled up, still aching from yesterday. The chain on my ankle scraped the floor as I shuffled out.
Outside, servants moved in a tired fog. Everyone had their rhythm. They didn't talk unless necessary. The firewood pile was wet from last night's rain. No flint. No tools. Only my frozen fingers and soggy kindling.
I stared at it.
Challenge accepted.
The cold bit deep into my hands as I began. The first attempt sparked nothing. The second sent a puff of smoke up into my eyes. I coughed, eyes stinging. Someone passed behind me, muttering about slow hands. I ignored it. I had a job to do—and a stat point to earn.
By the time I got the fourth hearth to catch, my hands were black with soot and ash, and my wrists had new blisters. Each breath felt like it scraped against raw lungs.
"What's taking so long?" Bran's voice echoed like a storm coming down the hall. He approached with Maela right behind him.
"Half the stew pots still aren't hot. You'll ruin everything."
I turned, calmly, holding up the flame I'd coaxed alive with sheer spite.
"Takes longer when the wood's soaked," I said, smiling sweetly. "But I didn't die twice. Yet."
Maela let out a sudden puff of laughter. Bran did not.
He marched forward and slammed the iron ladle onto the edge of a barrel. The clang made three nearby servants flinch.
"You get cocky, and you lose fingers. Understand that, Reed."
Understood. I'll save my sass for when you're not holding cutlery.
My system chimed.
[Task Complete: Morning Fires]
[Reward Acquired: +1 Willpower / +Favor (Maela +1) / Bran +0]
[Willpower increased to 6.]
[New Perk Unlocked: Choose One Below]
A new menu opened:
→ Minor Perk: Flame-Touched (Cooking fires you tend burn longer)
→ Minor Perk: Fast Learner (Tasks complete 5% faster)
→ Minor Perk: Pain Tolerance I (Minor resistance to physical strain)
Hah. I know exactly what I need.
I mentally selected Fast Learner.
[Perk Acquired: Fast Learner I]
The moment it activated, I felt a strange lightness in my arms. Not strength—just... familiarity. Muscle memory, almost.
Maela watched me out of the corner of her eye as she stirred a cauldron.
"You've got strange luck, boy. Most don't bounce back like you."
"Luck's just preparation meeting opportunity," I muttered as I stacked another log.
Or maybe it's that I was a construction worker with insomnia and too many webnovels.
She gave me a strange look, like she understood the tone but not the words.
The rest of the morning passed in sweat and soot. I caught on to small things quickly now—how to tilt the pot so it didn't scald, how to balance the heat to keep broth from boiling over. I even snuck a few spoonfuls when no one was watching. They weren't tasty. Just edible.
A boy named Pell, barely older than sixteen, tried to show off by throwing wood onto the fire with one hand. I raised an eyebrow. Maela didn't.
"Try that again and you'll be cooking with your teeth," she snapped.
He went pale. I smirked.
Later that day, one of the older kitchen boys—Drew, broad-shouldered with the IQ of boiled oats—grumbled that I was showing off. "Peelin' fast don't mean nothin'," he muttered. "Bet you couldn't do it blindfolded."
So of course, I accepted.
I tied a rag around my eyes and began peeling at full speed. The others gathered around, whispering.
"Ten... eleven... twelve..." I called out every few seconds.
When I pulled off the blindfold, my pile was twice theirs. Drew's face soured like spoiled milk.
Maela, watching from behind the bread counter, tossed me an extra crust of rye.
"Show-off," she muttered.
"Survival cooking," I replied with a grin.
As I cleaned up, the system pinged unexpectedly.
[Side Task Generated: Compliment a Rat]
Reward: +0.1 Charisma / 1 Copper
I blinked. "You've got to be kidding."
A small rat was nibbling crumbs near the sacks.
"Nice coat," I muttered. "Very... glossy."
I sighed.
This system is clearly drunk.
Around midday, I stopped near the water basin and stared into the still surface. Something tugged at the back of my mind.
It was my birthday. Or it would've been. March 5th. I would've turned twenty-six.
I found a flat crust from the oven's edge, cracked but warm, and offered it to Tarn.
"Old recipe," I said.
He took it without question. "Happy memory?"
"Something like that"
Late in the afternoon, after hauling a barrel up two flights without complaint, Bran sneered and waved a hand.
"Take off his ankle chain for the day. Let's see if he bolts."
I didn't bolt. I walked.
I walked up and down the same hallway five times, just for the joy of it.
It's like losing ten pounds of depression.
By sunset, the chain was back on. But the memory? Still there.
By early evening, Tarn pulled me aside again.
"You're moving different," he said. "Like you remember how to use your hands again."
I gave a tired smile. "I used to fix buildings. This isn't far off. Just a different kind of fire."
He chuckled, low and dry. "Then fix yourself. You won't last long if you keep drawing attention."
He glanced sideways.
"Bran's already watching you. He doesn't like sparks in the ashes. Especially not in the likes of us."
He was right.
But every step I took now—every root peeled, every fire lit—it made me sharper. Stronger. Closer to freedom.
And I wasn't planning on staying a nobody for long.
Let's see what tomorrow gives me.