Charlie was slumped on his couch, still brooding over the shower fiasco, when a knock at the door broke his train of thought.
"Charlie, come and tell us what you want for dinner!" his father called out.
"I'm coming, Dad!" Charlie groaned, dragging himself to his feet.
As he shuffled toward the stairs, Charlie frowned and muttered under his breath, addressing the persistent voice in his head.
"System, you said you would give me something delicious to eat. Was it a lie?"
A translucent screen materialized before him, listing ingredients and instructions:
---
Diet Dinner:
Dinner: Grilled chicken with steamed vegetables and a side of rice.
Ingredients:
1 chicken breast
Salt, pepper, garlic powder (or whatever spices are in the pantry)
1 cup of rice
Frozen mixed vegetables or any fresh ones you have
Instructions:
1. Season the chicken breast with spices.
2. Cook the rice (1 cup rice, 2 cups water, bring to boil, then simmer).
3. Steam or microwave the vegetables.
4. Grill or pan-fry the chicken until golden brown and cooked through.
---
Charlie stared at the screen, his face a blank mask of disbelief.
"... You want me to cook?! And only one chicken breast?!?!!!??! You want me to starve to death?!?"
"Correct. Write it down, go to the kitchen, and start preparing. You will be guided with a simulation to ensure proper execution."
Charlie's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "You're insane. Do you know how much I hate cooking?"
Another screen popped up, displaying the next task:
Task: Cook a balanced meal.
Reward: $50 if quality meets standards.
He paused, rubbing his chin as he considered. "Well… 50 dollars is 50 dollars… but if you give me 100, I'll think abou—"
"No negotiations. 50 dollars. If you fail to complete this task, disciplinary action will follow."
"This is so unfair!" Charlie grumbled, throwing his hands in the air. "First you make me exercise, now you're making me a chef? I hate cooking!"
A new quote appeared on the screen:
"Cooking is an art. The first step to mastering life is mastering the skillet."
Charlie stared at the screen, unamused. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to 'master life,' huh?"
He stomped up the stairs, muttering under his breath. "Stupid System, stupid cooking, stupid everything..."
Charlie went upstairs, and his mom immediately asked, "What do you want for dinner, and how much do you want to eat? Be clear this time—I don't want you whining later about it."
Charlie hesitated for a moment before responding, "I'll cook my own dinner."
His mother stared at him, dumbfounded. Finally, she took a closer look at him and noticed something unusual—his skin looked smoother, and he was cleaner.
"Wait… did you just shower?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. Her son just showered.
His father's reaction wasn't much different. "Charlie, are you okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed with genuine concern.
"Yes, I'm okay, Dad. Why wouldn't I be?" Charlie replied, his tone carrying a hint of irritation at their reactions.
Here's the corrected and refined version of your scene, keeping Charlie's clumsy but determined effort in the spotlight:
---
Charlie's mom began preparing dinner for herself and his father, and his dad soon joined her in the kitchen. As they worked side by side, their eyes kept darting toward Charlie.
They weren't subtle.
What's up with them looking at me like that? Charlie thought, glancing at his parents. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled concern—almost as if they were waiting for him to burn the house down.
Unbeknownst to them, a translucent simulation hovered before Charlie's eyes, visible only to him. It was like a virtual guide, showing each step with exaggerated clarity: how to cut the chicken, how to measure the water for the rice, even how to hold the knife properly.
Charlie grumbled under his breath but followed the instructions. He grabbed the chicken breast and clumsily started seasoning it, shaking the spices far too liberally at first. Salt and pepper dusted the counter more than the chicken, and he paused to wipe it clean.
"Ugh, stupid spices," he muttered.
Next, he moved on to the vegetables. The simulation showed him how to chop them, his hands awkwardly mimicking the movements. The knife wobbled dangerously close to his fingers a few times, but he managed to avoid any accidents.
Why is this so hard? he thought, sweating from the effort. Still, it was food, and that meant it was worth the struggle.
Meanwhile, his parents watched from the other side of the kitchen, their initial shock slowly fading. "He looks like he knows what he's doing," his mom whispered to his dad.
"Maybe," his dad replied, squinting. "But look at him. He's so clumsy. I can't believe he hasn't dropped anything yet."
"Well, he does love food," his mom said, crossing her arms. "Maybe he's just naturally good at cooking it."
Charlie could hear them whispering but chose to ignore it, focusing on the simulation. He grabbed the chicken breast again and placed it in the pan, the sizzle of the oil startling him enough to make him flinch. He adjusted the heat as instructed and then turned his attention to the rice.
Measuring the water felt like performing surgery, but he managed to get it right, though some spilled onto the counter. As he set the pot to boil, his father finally spoke up.
"Charlie, can you make a little extra for us?"
"Yes, Charlie," his mom chimed in, her voice filled with mock seriousness. "Make some for your parents. We can't miss this historic event. Our son—this lazy dog of a son—is cooking!"
Charlie shot them a glare, his face flushing. "You…" He was about to retort angrily but stopped abruptly as a notification popped up in the corner of his vision:
Subtask: Make some for your parents.
Reward: Double the original amount.
He sighed. "Fine. I'll make some for you too," he grumbled.
After finishing the food, Charlie waited, anticipating the familiar chime of the System. But nothing came. He frowned, glancing at the blank space where notifications usually popped up.
"Where's my reward?" he muttered under his breath.
Meanwhile, his parents cautiously took a bite of the food he'd plated for them. His mom's fork hovered over the chicken for a moment before she cut into it, tasting a small piece. Her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"This… isn't bad," she said, glancing at his father.
His dad, already chewing, nodded in agreement. "The seasoning's actually pretty good, and the chicken's cooked through." He took another bite, gesturing to the vegetables. "Even these are decent."
"Well, look at you, Charlie," his mom added with a small smile. "Turns out you can cook."
They added portions of Charlie's meal to the food they had already made for themselves—scrambled eggs with some buttered toast and a few slices of ham.
The combination wasn't ideal, but they seemed to enjoy it, taking bites of their own dinner alongside the grilled chicken and vegetables Charlie had prepared.
Charlie, on the other hand, dug into his plate with less enthusiasm. One chicken breast and a small side of vegetables sat in front of him—a pitifully small portion compared to what he usually ate.
His mom's smile faltered as she noticed his sparse plate. "Son… is that enough for you? Is it something we said?"
His dad frowned, clearly sharing her concern. "We've talked about your eating habits before, but you don't need to starve yourself," he added.
Charlie glanced between them, startled by their worried expressions.
His parents didn't like him being overweight—that much he knew—but they also didn't want him to go hungry.
Before he could answer, the System chimed.
Reward unlocked:
Double the original amount ($100).
Cooking Mastery Level 1 acquired.
"Someone strong knows his way with energy."
A grin spread across Charlie's face as he read the notifications. He finally got what he asked for—$100 and a new skill—just by making dinner. Sure, it was hard, but it was worth it.
"I'm okay," Charlie said, his grin turning to a genuine smile as he looked at his parents. "Really. I'm fine."
His mom and dad exchanged glances, clearly still concerned, but they didn't press further. They continued eating, and Charlie dug into his meal.
After dragging himself home, Charlie headed straight for the shower. The warm water was a welcome relief, washing away the layers of sweat and grime that clung to him after hours of exercise and training. He leaned against the tiles, letting the water soothe his aching muscles.
Drying off and throwing on a loose shirt and shorts, he shuffled to the kitchen. "Alright, System," he said, still toweling his hair. "What's for dinner today? Please, please, give me plenty of food. I'm starving here."
The System's response came swiftly.
"Today's Menu: Grilled chicken wraps with avocado, spinach, and a side of roasted sweet potatoes."
Charlie sighed. "Fine, I'll take it. Let's do this."
---
Cooking in Progress
Charlie gathered the ingredients, setting them out on the counter with the precision of a general preparing for battle. The glowing simulation appeared before him again, showing step-by-step instructions.
"Okay, chicken first," he muttered, picking up the raw chicken breast. He seasoned it with salt, pepper, and a dash of garlic powder, rubbing it in with clumsy but deliberate motions. Then, he heated a pan, the sizzle of the meat filling the kitchen as he placed it down.
As the chicken cooked, he moved to the sweet potatoes, peeling and chopping them with care. The simulation showed perfect slices; Charlie's were... close enough. Tossing them in olive oil and spices, he slid them into the oven.
"Wraps next," he muttered, pulling out tortillas, avocado, and spinach. He mashed the avocado with a fork, spreading it onto each wrap with surprising focus.
By the time everything came together, the kitchen was a controlled chaos of half-used utensils and spices. Charlie wiped his brow, looking proudly at his work.
---
Parental Surprise
The front door creaked open as his parents returned from work. Harold, his father, stepped into the house first, his tired expression shifting to one of confusion as he caught the faint aroma of cooking.
"Charlie?" he called out, stepping into the kitchen. There stood his son, once the laziest person he knew, cooking dinner again.
"Hi, Dad! Hi, Mom!" Charlie called out, glancing up from plating the food. "Take a seat. It'll be ready soon."
Harold exchanged a glance with his wife, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Uh… okay," he said cautiously, pulling out a chair at the table.
His wife, equally perplexed, joined him. The two of them sat in silence, watching their son move around the kitchen like someone who'd been doing this for years.
---
Dinner Time
The plates hit the table, and Charlie sat down with a grin. His parents hesitated before taking a bite, their expressions guarded. But as they tasted the chicken, their surprise was evident.
"This is… good," Harold said, blinking at his plate.
His wife nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Really good. Charlie, where did you learn to cook like this? This is the second day you cook!"
Charlie just shrugged, suppressing a smirk.
---
The System's Task
After cleaning up the kitchen and earning another $100, Charlie collapsed onto his bed, satisfied. The System chimed again, displaying a new notification:
Task Added: Make Dinner 25 Days in a Row.
Reward: Cooking Mastery Level 2.
Charlie's eyes widened as he read the reward details: better technique, improved flavor, and tastier meals overall.
"More tasty food?" he said, laughing to himself. "Yes! Bwahaha!"
His stomach grumbled softly, reminding him that dinner had been filling but still smaller than he liked. He sighed, patting his belly. "Guess I'll get used to it."
Then he slept, but it wasn't a normal dream...