I highly recommend sleeping in a room without rats fornicating and fighting under it. Best sleep of my life. And since I was well rested after literal months of Not That, I really wasn't surprised when I woke up with a buff.

Today is a Good Day (buff). +5% global learning speed, +10% luck. Duration: 12 hours.

It was really quite a nice little buff, and one I hadn't actually had before. Which, honestly, said something about my lot in life.

Maybe a lot of things about it.

But I didn't want to think about that too deeply. Instead, I was thinking about the way I could utilize the buff.

Global learning speed, in System Speak, was experience. I was going to earn more of it just for actually having taken care of myself yesterday. I couldn't let it go to waste. But there were some key missing components. My stove, for one. It (along with a few other key necessities) wasn't delivered yet.

I could see two real ways of learning without my own set up. First of all, I could go out into the wilderness and set up a production chain. Kill a thing, process it, and then cook it over a campfire. There were a lot of failure points, but perhaps that increase to luck would keep it from being too much of a problem. Or, you know, it could be a catastrophic failure and I'd end up with burn scars and half of Mystic Falls pissed at me because I set the forest on fire.

Not necessarily a risk I wanted to take.

Ditto if I tried to set up a fire in here. Would not go great (actually, likely less great than in the wilderness) and I'd have no supplies.

My second (third?) option though wasn't much better.

There were eateries in town. I knew (and was sorta on a first-name basis) with the owner of the Olde Day's Inn, but I was pretty sure Lizbeth hated my guts. And also thought I was married to Mel. Who had swindled her out of some free food at least once. Using magic.

But even if I had to go to another place, I could smooth talk the proprietor (c'mon luck increase!) and get a contract gig cutting potatoes or something for them. It wouldn't be as satisfactory as working for myself, but I'd utilize the experience buff in a way that would actually help my goal, instead of just earning more towards being a fighter.

I woke up Mel and told her my idea, and for once she didn't call me eighteen variations of 'idiot'.

"Sounds like a good idea, Harps," she said before yawning wide. Mel rubbed at her eyes, and then looked up at me from under her typical halo of sleep-tangled hair. "Have you decided where you're going to go?"

"I was thinking it would be easier if Lizbeth would be the one to hire me, but I'm pretty sure I'm her least favorite person in Mystic Falls."

"That's only because you haven't seen how she treats her partner," Mel said with a wry grin. "Poor guy."

"Is his name Day?"

Mel nodded. "Yep. He's the owner and founder of the Olde Day's Inn. Your deductive skills are unmatched, Harper."

I ignored her sarcasm. "Would it be better to ask him about employment then?"

Mel shook her head, hard and fast. "I highly doubt that. I mean, first of all, you don't need yet another reason for Lizbeth to dislike you, right? But also, Day isn't involved in the, ah, day-to-day activities of running the place." She grinned. "It's actually one of the biggest things they fight about."

"How many days worth of food did you swindle out of them?"

"Mm... As I said, my magic has the side effect that you remember the next day. But you're still susceptible, upside. Downside, the effects are a bit, um, exponential."

"Great. Maybe I can pay for those days to mend the relationship."

"Or you could just turn up that Harper charm. Hell, if you could lie to a pixie lender's face and somehow still have all your skin attached, you could sweet talk a lonely old woman who hates her job and her partner."

I tried to imagine how that would go. With the luck buff, it actually might not be a bad idea. Worse case scenario, I'd butter the deal by offering to let my labor be payment for the food Mel swindled out of the woman. Best case scenario, I might actually get Lizbeth to like me.

Hopefully not too much.

With my charisma boosted, and the luck stat, I didn't want to accidentally take things too far.

I talked things over a bit more with Mel before heading out. She was pretty content to stay around the eatery and do some repairs here and there. There was also the cellar to explore, and she was better suited for it since she could get small and fly in and out without issue. Mel was convinced there was something worthy down there, but I wasn't. If that's how she wanted to spend her day, though, so be it. Just as long as she was also able to bring in any deliveries.

My walk into the heart of town was quiet and pleasant. It was still early enough that the beggars weren't awake, which meant I wasn't bombarded with a hundred outstretched hands seeking every coin I'd ever come within sneezing distance of. This also meant I didn't have to risk bumping into someone I knew and having an awkward small-talk convo punctuated by yawning.

Olde Day's Inn was surprisingly busy for the morning. I mean, there were only two people in the main room other than Lizbeth and I, but that was a serious increase from every other time I'd been inside.

Lizbeth scowled the second she saw me. "Thought I made it clear I don't want you here, level one chef."

"Well, not really?" I strode across the room as I talked, ignoring the stares from the only other four eyes in the room. "You fed me and mine and took our coin for it. Seems that means we're clientele."

"Can't you open your own eatery and stop coming to mine?"

"I'm trying."

"I doubt it."

Her callous tone made me smile. "I mean it. We're still getting things delivered. And, as you know, I'm still only level one."

"Hrmph." She pointed to a table. "Go sit, I'll bring you breakfast. As long as you pay."

"Can we chat after? I have a bit of a proposition."

Lizbeth looked me up and down like a slice of beef and then cackled with laughter. "Not interested in your 'bits' or your 'propositions', kid."

Wow. Ouch. Rejected by a crone old enough to be my mother's grandmother. "Not what I meant," I mumbled, even as I felt myself turning bright red. But Lizbeth made it perfectly clear she wasn't going to listen to another word I said, as she marched back into the kitchen, likely to fetch me some breakfast.

I took a seat at the table she'd pointed to. It was somehow more worn down than the others around it, and my chair swayed in a stiff breeze.

Within a few minutes, Lizbeth approached. Today's breakfast seemed to be a repeat of yesterday's, but instead of an over-cooked egg it had a sausage link that was shriveled and rubbery. I bit my tongue to keep from making any inappropriate jokes. Lizbeth put one bowl in front of me, and then took to the other chair at the table with a bowl of her own.

"You're buying this," she said as she jabbed at the bowl's contents with utensil.

"Sure. What are friends for?"

"Not friends," she snapped. "Especially not if you're propositioning me."

"For fuck's sake, not like that." I stabbed at my own breakfast, and the sausage basically crumbled to little chunks with barely any pressure. "I have a favor to ask you."

Lizbeth said nothing, and instead continued to dig at her meal. She did pause after a few mouthfuls and raised an eyebrow at me. "You gonna talk, level one?"

"The name is Harper."

"Don't care."

"Fair enough," I said and shook my head. "Look, I need to get some practice in. So I was hoping I could work for you for the day. I'll do whatever chef-related stuff you want. Even if it's just peeling potatoes for eight hours."

"Why?"

I wasn't sure if talking to Lizbeth was refreshing or annoying. She basically said exactly what came to her mind, and all in a highly aggressive tone. It was so unlike speaking with anyone else in town. "I have an experience points buff."

Lizbeth seemed to think about it for half a second before shaking her head. "Nope."

"What? Why the fuck not?"

"Not gonna train my replacement. You come into my town, set up shop, and then expect me to help. Next you'll want recipes. Or ingredients."

I looked at the slop in front of me. Like hell I was.

"I don't want any of that," I said, firmly. "Just give me a sack of potatoes and a paring knife. You don't even need to let me near the stove."

That gave her a longer pause. "You won't put me out of business?"

"Can't guarantee that, Lizbeth. You know that. But I can tell you I won't actively try. And we won't even have the same clientele. I'm looking to make stat food for adventurers."

"Difficult," she grunted, before digging into her breakfast again.

"That's what I've heard. And why I want to spend some time gaining skills while I have a buff."

"Eh... fine. You peel turnips."

"Don't have potatoes?"

"You aren't good enough for potatoes. Knife skills need to be at least three, otherwise you'll damage the potato."

Shit. "Alright, deal."

Lizbeth pointed at my bowl. "Finish first. You're going to need your strength." She grabbed her half-empty bowl from off the table and pushed away from her chair. "I'll go get things ready."

"Thanks, Lizbeth. I really appreciate it."

"Just don't cross me, level one," she said with a firm frown.

"Of course."

When Lizbeth went back into the kitchen, I did as she bade. The rest of the sausage-laced porridge vanished into my gullet, and honestly, I felt pretty good. Maybe it was just the buff, but I was feeling excited for the day and for my skill grind.

That lasted all of ten minutes after I got my paring knife and the bucket of turnips.

I'd never really inspected a turnip before. It was a little round root whose skin was mostly white, but it was streaked with a pinkish-purple as well. Once you removed the top layer, the flesh was predominantly the white color. It had a strong mustard-y smell when it was first pealed, but once I put them in a bowl with water, they really didn't smell like anything unless I shoved my nose up against them. Which I didn't do, for fear that Lizbeth would think I was trying to steal the turnip with my nose.

Peeling vegetables wasn't something I expected to be bad at.

Not to toot my own more, but I was a level twenty three fighter. Almost level twenty four, if the annoying encouraging prompt text from the night before could have been believed. My sword skill was almost maxed for my level. I knew how to cut a thing.

But apparently my skill in swords didn't apply to all sharp objects cutting into flesh.

I nicked myself twice in the first ten minutes. I also dug deep into the flesh of the turnip more than once, even though I was trying to be delicate.

It was pretty clear why Lizbeth didn't want me anywhere near vegetables she might actually need the whole thing of.

But at least my knife skills increased. And as they did, I got progressively better at peeling turnips. By the time I'd made it through the bucket at my feet, my knife skill was ten and I was so incredibly close to level two as a chef.

I brought the finished turnips to Lizbeth, and she wordlessly handed me a new bucket. This one actually had potatoes in it, and so I returned to my rickety table and burned through them.

Congratulations! You've earned enough experience in related skills to gain level two in the Chef class! What a great job you've done! Keep it up!

I nearly collapsed back against the chair, but thought better of it because I might end up suplexed by the rickety bit of furniture. So, instead I gently leaned back.

Progression felt nice.

Real nice.

If I could keep this up, at least while I was waiting for stuff to be delivered, I might actually gain a few levels in my class before I opened up shop. Sure, it wouldn't necessarily be in the actual cooking. But that would be a difficult sell, even to Lizbeth who seemed to at least appreciate that I was helping her out. But I'd be able to gain those levels as soon as things were delivered, and maybe I'd actually be halfway to level five before I needed to open the eatery.

Maybe this whole chef thing was going to work out after all.