On the very first day the System arrived, it coldly declared that I was the universe’s last hope. I was rubbing my hands together, ready to pilot a mecha, when it forced me onto a “Galactic Food Tycoon” development path instead. Forced to open a fried-rice stall in the slums, I kept questioning my life as I tossed rice in the wok. Then one day, a special customer took a bite and burst into tears. “This taste… it’s the long-lost imperial feast of the Galactic Empire, gone for ten thousand years!” In an instant, my shabby stall was surrounded by the top-of-the-line spacecraft of all sorts of interstellar bigwigs
