The tension in the room was thick as Evan faced the three burly thugs. They loomed like statues carved from bad decisions and protein powder, their dark suits stretching over their broad shoulders.
The tallest of the group, clearly the leader, sneered. "What's this about food? You think a slice of pizza's gonna make us go away?"
Evan tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach. "Not just any pizza," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "You'll leave here so impressed, you'll never want to mess with me again."
The thug raised an eyebrow. "You've got guts, kid. Fine. Cook us something. But if it's garbage, you'll regret it."
Evan darted into the kitchen, heart pounding.
"System, what's the plan here? I'm going to get pulverized if this doesn't work!"
"Quest Objective: Intimidate the thugs through culinary excellence. Recommendation: Create a dish with maximum spice for psychological impact."
Evan's eyes narrowed. "Spicy, huh? Let's see how tough they are."
Evan worked with a determination he didn't know he had. He grabbed fresh chili peppers, garlic, and a mix of spices that could make a dragon weep. The system guided his hand as he diced the chilies with surgical precision, the newly unlocked Enhanced Knife Skills making the task effortless.
Steam billowed as he tossed the ingredients into a sizzling pan. He added pasta, coating it in a fiery red sauce that shimmered like molten lava. Finally, he garnished the dish with fresh parsley and a drizzle of olive oil, its golden hue glowing under the kitchen lights.
The aroma was intoxicating—and terrifying.
"Dish Complete: Inferno Diablo Pasta."
Evan carried the plates out to the waiting thugs, his confidence bolstered by the system's encouraging chime.
The men exchanged skeptical looks as Evan placed the steaming plates in front of them. The leader sniffed the dish and immediately coughed, his eyes watering. "What the hell did you put in this?"
"Just some local spices," Evan said with a sly smile. "Try it. I dare you."
The first thug hesitated, then forked a bite into his mouth. His face turned red almost instantly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The other two thugs laughed until they took bites of their own.
It was chaos.
The men gasped for air, gulping down water, their faces a kaleidoscope of agony. "This… is… brutal!" one of them wheezed.
But despite the fiery assault on their taste buds, they couldn't stop eating. The leader wiped his mouth and groaned, "It's so spicy… but it's so good!"
Evan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Still think I need protection? Or does it look like I can handle myself?"
The leader shot him a glare, but there was respect in his eyes. He slammed his fork down and stood. "You've got guts, kid. And, apparently, a death wish for anyone who eats here. We'll let you off this time. But don't get too cocky."
The three men stumbled out, clutching their stomachs and mumbling about finding milk.
As the door closed behind them, the system chimed.
"Quest Complete! Reward: +50 System Points and Enhanced Reflexes Unlocked."
Evan felt a strange sensation in his body, like a rush of energy flowing through his veins. He flexed his fingers experimentally, noticing his movements felt sharper, quicker.
"Enhanced reflexes, huh?" Evan muttered. "Maybe I should've tried catching one of their punches for bonus points."
The system responded:
"Note: Reckless actions may result in unnecessary injuries. Proceed wisely."
Evan laughed. "You're a real buzzkill, you know that?"
Word spread quickly about the incident. By the next morning, locals were talking about the young chef who scared off the mafia with nothing but a plate of pasta. Curious neighbors began trickling into the restaurant, eager to see if the rumors were true.
One by one, Evan impressed them with dishes that felt like magic. A simple caprese salad tasted like a masterpiece. A humble tiramisu brought tears to a retired teacher's eyes.
As the restaurant grew busier, the system continued to push Evan with new quests.
"Quest: Serve ten customers in one day. Reward: Basic Time Management Skill."
"Quest: Invent a new dessert. Reward: +30 System Points."
Evan accepted them all, throwing himself into the work with surprising enthusiasm.
But as the restaurant flourished, trouble brewed behind the scenes.
In a shadowy backroom somewhere in Naples, the mafia boss, Don Carlo, leaned back in his leather chair. He tapped his cigar against an ashtray and narrowed his eyes at the man standing before him.
"So, you're telling me," Don Carlo said slowly, "that my men were defeated by a plate of spicy pasta?"
The thug, still pale and sweating, nodded. "Y-yes, boss. But it wasn't just any pasta! It was like he had a secret weapon!"
Don Carlo puffed on his cigar, a thin smile curling his lips. "Interesting. Let's see what this 'weapon' is. Pay him another visit, but this time…" His voice turned cold. "Make sure he understands who he's dealing with."