Chapter 87: Big in Japan
âMuch better to get a full-fledged Class for free than invest in the training or resources to make them after the fact. As long as thereâs enough of them appearing naturally, anyway.â
It was a familiar mindset, one that had come to dominate the western school of capitalist discourse. Cost cuttings and efficiency were forever the order of the day, and good enough was the mantra for every aspect of product design and manufacture. This relentless obsession towards achieving more profit had built the most prosperous society in human history, and yet there was undeniably something lost in the process, that ephemeral quality that I had only just begun to acknowledge as the soul.
Once, on a trip to Japan, I had the fortune to partake in fugu: delicate shavings of pufferfish sashimi that were simply to die for. Quite literally, as their organs contained one of the deadliest natural toxins known to man, and a single shoddy cut in their preparation could make the dish a dinerâs last meal. It was truly delicious, featuring a firm texture paired with a sweet and savoury taste that Iâd yet to find replicated in any other fish, all for a punchy three hundred pounds sterling before drinks and VAT. After the meal, as we were the last table before closing, I had the privilege of chatting to the head chef and manager of the restaurant as he prepared to close the kitchen for the night.
He started as a kitchen boy in that very same restaurant, only fifteen years old as he washed the dishes to relieve the burden on his seniors. It was two whole years before he handled his first blowfish, another three years to complete his apprenticeship, and several months more of practice before he finally passed the gruelling licensing exam to become a certified fugu chef, earning the right to serve this most dangerous dish to paying customers. Three decades of diligent service after that, without a single case of poisoning, to inherit that same restaurant upon his teacherâs retirement. It was his shop now, serving anywhere between ten to fifty paying customers a day, with only two tables at a time booked in advance, a profoundly intimate experience beyond even what most Michelin starred establishments could offer.
I remember marvelling at this, all the hours and years that had gone into his career, all to serve the very best fish he could. By another London metric, this entire business model was wildly inefficient, decadent, and a clear example of conspicuous consumption writ large. So why did I look back on it so fondly, with a grainy photograph of myself and the head chef taking pride of place on my desk even decades later? What was the joy I felt, taking bite sized pieces of a masterpiece on my plate? I thought I finally understood it a bit better, in that moment of epiphany, so many years and a reincarnation later.
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[50 XP gained from your meditation upon the nature of materialism.]
âAre you back with us?â Kyle stage-whispered, having seen me rouse myself.
Somehow, Iâd managed to sink to the floor during my little breakdown, curling up in a ball on the cold stone floor as my mind went on a tour of my distant memories. I made sure to vanish the grime on my clothes as I rose back to my feet; it was important to always put my best foot forward, especially in front of my managerâs manager in a sense.
âSorry, I was having a Class moment. Greed can be dangerous, I think.â
At least my mind was unmuddled, and my explanations came easily as always; my compulsion to tell the truth barely even registered, for I had spent many decades already talking in technical truths.
âCoin is precious, and rightfully valued, but taking it too far has sent many a fool to their grave,â Kyle spouted, seeming to buy my explanation. âThat youâre even aware of it shows youâve got a good head on your shoulders; youâll get far in life as a Merchant, Iâm sure.â
I never did remove my Blackened Bracelet, but Kyle had clearly seen my attire and behaviour and drawn his own conclusions, even if he was surely revisiting them in light of recent events.
âWhat about the most valuable classes? The very top of the line; can those be swapped into at all?â
I decided to change the topic nonetheless, because there was no benefit in revealing my secrets, not when Ameliaâs were available to share.
âAt that level, information is hard to come by, even for me. Itâs rarely ever written down or shared through the System, instead being passed by word of mouth from master to successor. Perhaps the simplest and best known is the King; to hold this Class, one must attain recognition as a ruler in the eyes of the System. The exact criteria are unknown to me, but involve at minimum the obedience of a kingdomâs worth of people, the formal institutions of government, the military and so on. In return, they can lay down Edicts that upend the world across entire regions at a time, something otherwise exclusive to divinity. Of course, they also earn a massive target on their backs, and no King has ever died peacefully of old age in their bed, so itâs a mixed blessing.
Anything beyond that, Iâd rather not say. It might get you all killed, if the wrong people were to overhear. Enough of that, at any rate; werenât you eager to find your lost pet? My Adjudicator has removed the curse cast upon you, so why donât you give him a call?â
Amelia sounded like she was done with the conversation, so I didnât hesitate to get back on track myself.
[Pumpkin - Level 4 Cat
Placing a call, please stand by.]
Pumpkin was still alive, and had even gained a level in the meantime, so I was happy enough to make the attempt.
[Call connected.]
âIt worked this time!â I exclaimed, happy to see that this wasnât all for nothing, helpful Class insights aside.
âWill? Is that you? Iâm a bit busy right now.â Pumpkin huffed, panting for breath between every word.
Over the line, I could hear the sound of clashing blades, profanity, and gunpowder, which definitely did not set my heart at ease.
âWhere are you? Whatâs going on over there?â I asked, trying to hone in on the voices but finding none of the familiar to me.
âWell, you seeâ¦â