Ryan returned to the village from the Altar of Blood, still gripping the heat of battle in his limbs, only to realize something strange—many players already had their class-specific weapons.
He narrowed his eyes.
This wasn't supposed to happen until later in the day, at least not until afternoon. It seemed that whatever he'd triggered when opening the dungeon had accelerated the timeline. The ripple effects were already showing.
But he didn't rush to submit the quest. As soon as he re-entered the village, something else caught his attention.
A smell.
That scent—rich, savory, overwhelming—grabbed him by the nose and pulled straight toward the house. Even in the game, he could recognize it in a heartbeat. That had to be the girls. They were back from grocery shopping.
His stomach growled. Loudly.
Ryan couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten anything that actually tasted good.
Ever since the Orb of Wishes had thrown him back in time, he had spent twenty long years literally paralyzed, forced to watch his younger self from a distance.
And when he finally merged with his past self again, it had been during the family's absolute low point. They were barely scraping by, surviving off the cheapest, blandest food imaginable. It had been years since they'd had a proper meal—forget meat, even the smell of it had been absent from their home for far too long.
He parked his paladin character right beside Warden Nard, didn't even bother claiming the quest rewards, and instantly logged off.
He needed to see what was cooking. Now.
—
Inside the kitchen, Molly and Mia were in the middle of an all-out battle with a massive slab of pork belly. The stovetop was lit, and a large ceramic pot was bubbling with promise, releasing waves of mouthwatering aroma.
Ryan stepped in, took one deep inhale, and practically melted. The scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Seeing him enter, both girls lit up.
"Ryan! Look, we bought a huge piece of pork today!" Mia chirped.
"Hands off!" Molly scolded sharply, swatting Mia with the spatula. "You've got grease all over your hands! Don't smear it on his shirt!"
Mia stuck out her tongue and backed off, pouting exaggeratedly.
"You're in charge from now on," Ryan said with a grin. "I'll make the money, you make the meals."
Mia gave him a side-eye, but the corner of her mouth curled into a smile. "Well, I guess I can handle that. Just go play your game," She muttered, rolling her eyes and giving him a gentle shove out of the kitchen.
She didn't mean it, of course.
Molly skipped out after him not even two seconds later, leaving her sister behind to man the stove. Her expression twisted into a mock scowl as she got kicked out of the "cooking zone."
Ryan leaned against the wall, watching the two of them with faint amusement. The scent of home clung to everything—the sizzling pot, the bubbling broth, the faint bickering of sisters.
Molly and Mia, of course weren't his biological siblings. In the original timeline, they'd been taken in by his parents, but everyone knew what the real plan was. It wasn't just about charity.
It was an old-fashioned kind of thinking.
His mom and dad believed—truly believed—that if you raised girls right from a young age, nurtured them like family, they'd eventually become the best match for their son.
And honestly, Ryan wasn't sure whether to laugh or sigh at that.
The whole "childhood betrothal" idea wasn't just some abstract notion whispered behind closed doors—it had been planted firmly in Mia and Molly's minds from the very beginning. Raised with that expectation, the more mature Mia had, over the years, come to genuinely think of herself as Ryan's wife.
Ryan had always been a soft touch when it came to them. Growing up, he took it as his personal mission to protect both girls from anything unpleasant. That hadn't changed. Even now, Molly remained an embodiment of innocence—still sweet, still too pure, like a teenage girl who hadn't yet been touched by the harsher corners of the world.
Unaware of the unspoken tension between her sister and Ryan, she happily followed him out to the living room, chattering as she went.
They ended up talking for ages. It was only after nearly half an hour that Molly finally responded to her sister's calls and ran off to the kitchen to help with dinner.
Left alone in the living room, Ryan finally exhaled and scratched his head. He made his way back to his small bedroom, stripped down to his boxers, and lay back on the mattress. Slipping on the virtual headset, he didn't dive straight into the game. First, he opened the community forum.
He clicked into his paid video channel—and immediately grinned.
Over 110,000 views.
The number was climbing fast. Comments were flooding in nonstop.
Some of the responses were... passionate.
Plenty of users were furious that he'd charged even a single penny. Some thought the price was too low and feared it'd devalue other future content. Others mocked him for having the audacity to put a price tag on such a short clip—especially when that price was a single cent.
But ironically, all the noise only made the video explode even more. The outrage had gone viral. Now, more and more players were clicking in to see what the fuss was about.
He flipped over to another hot thread.
It was a free battle report posted by someone who had captured footage of a major guild from the Orc faction—the Ironblood Covenant—getting absolutely steamrolled during their boss fight with Guardian Alby.
It wasn't just a loss. It was a massacre.
The footage was going viral too, mostly because it was funny as hell. But not everyone was laughing.
Some of the sharper players noticed something odd in the clip. That hulking, savage boar that crushed the Ironblood elites wasn't just a random monster—it was terrifying. And the way it moved… brutal, efficient, relentless.
They began to wonder, was this guy really just some lone wanderer?
Or could it be that Featherlight didn't even earn that Dungeon Scroll by defeating the Guardian?
Ryan could almost hear the gears turning across the forum. It wouldn't be long before someone connected the dots. That realization gave him a strange sense of thrill.
Right on cue, he posted a new topic:
"Featherlight's Step-by-Step Guide to Killing the Guardian!"
The post was climbing fast—likes, shares, comments pouring in.
And just like that, the fire spread again.