Mia's Visit
The presence of the concealed weapon in his mental storage provided a sense of security that Arthur hadn't felt since waking up in this body.
The world of Fast & Furious was about to get much more dangerous, but he was no longer just a bystander.
"Gurgle!"
His stomach let out a sharp, demanding protest. The physical toll of the day was finally catching up to him.
Arthur realized he hadn't eaten since the "reincarnation." He stood up to survey the kitchen.
The apartment was a typical bachelor pad. Beside the entrance, a small galley kitchen was partitioned off by a laminate cabinet.
A refrigerator with patches of rust stood in the corner, humming loudly.
Arthur opened it, only to feel a pang of disappointment.
Inside were a few cuts of steak, some onions, a can of tomatoes, chickpeas, and a half-empty package of cheese slices.
There was also a loaf of white toast bread that looked a few days old.
The previous Arthur had clearly adopted a standard Western diet—meat, bread, and simple staples.
Fortunately, the current Arthur knew his way around a stove.
In his past life, living alone had forced him to become a decent amateur cook.
He wasn't a chef, but he could make a meal taste like more than the sum of its parts.
He pulled out the steak, an onion, and the tomatoes.
As he picked up a kitchen knife and began to slice the onion into thin strips, the voice returned.
"Ding, detected host has begun cooking. [Culinary] skill has been automatically generated."
"Current [Culinary] skill level is Lv0. 100 Experience Points are required to level up."
"Experience points will be evaluated based on cooking duration, technique, and the final quality of the dish."
Arthur paused, a wide smile breaking across his face.
Driving, Lockpicking, Firearms, and now Cooking. Everything really is a skill.
His mind raced with the possibilities. If he could learn anything and have the system perfect it, he could eventually become a polymath—a man of unlimited talent.
He turned back to the cutting board with renewed energy.
He heated a pan with a knob of butter, the fat sizzling and popping as it hit the hot metal.
He tossed in the onions, letting them soften and caramelize until they turned a deep, fragrant gold.
Next came the beef, which he seared in chunks until a brown crust formed.
He added the tomatoes and chickpeas, letting the mixture simmer into a thick, rustic stew.
The only seasonings available were salt and coarse black pepper, but the aroma wafting through the small apartment was heavenly.
As the stew bubbled away, Arthur felt his anticipation grow.
He was just about to plate his meal when a sharp, rhythmic knock sounded at his door.
He froze, his hand tightening on the handle of the pot.
This neighborhood wasn't exactly the safest part of LA, and his interaction with Vince earlier that day had him on high alert.
He moved silently to the door, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Who is it?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.
He didn't wait for an answer before mentally preparing to pull the M1911 from his private space.
A girl's voice, soft and melodic, came from the other side.
"Arthur? It's Mia."
"I heard about what happened at the shop. I wanted to see if you were okay."