“Oh my, how wonderful!”
“Could there possibly be food that looks this delicious?”
“The aroma is so good, I feel like grabbing a fork and digging in right now!”
“They must have used only the freshest ingredients!”
Of course, all their voices were oddly flat, with no natural inflection, and their reactions were so mechanical it was painfully clear they were just acting.
‘There really are a lot of issues here.’
With interactions this forced, even players completely mesmerized by the game’s cutting-edge virtual reality would lose immersion, just like I did.
And once the maids’ exaggerated praises faded, a heavy silence took their place, dragging the mood down sharply.
It felt like the calm before a storm—like something ominous was lurking just ahead.
But honestly, that wasn’t my problem.
‘Let’s see.’
I turned my gaze to the dish that had just been uncovered.
‘Oh.’
Their reactions might’ve been awkward, but they weren’t wrong—the meat gave off an incredibly mouthwatering aroma and gleamed with a glossy sheen.
The skin was perfectly roasted, crackling with crispiness, and just imagining how juicy the inside must be had my excitement building.
But just as I reached for the fork, a blinking notification popped up in front of me.
[WARNING! You are strongly advised to follow the safety guidelines.]
‘Still… just one bite…’
[WARNING! You are strongly advised to follow the safety guidelines.]
The persistent warning trailed my gaze, blinking furiously each time I moved my head, until I finally sighed and reluctantly closed my mouth.
Turning down something that looked that delicious—what kind of nightmare was this?
But deep down, I understood the game company’s obsession with control.
If parts of the game were still unfinished, they probably didn’t want players wandering off-script and triggering bugs or unstable content.
Clack.
I set the fork down and spoke firmly.
“Head Chef.”
At the sound of my voice, the entire dining room instantly fell silent.
It was eerily quiet, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
The head chef slightly bowed his head toward me and answered politely.
“Yes, what is it?”
“This meat—what kind of meat is it?”
I gestured toward the steaming dish with my eyes.
“Ah, my apologies. I forgot to tell you what kind of meat it is!”
He responded in an exaggerated tone, then suddenly stepped back and answered in a strangely robotic voice.
“It is ■■ ■■■ ‘s meat.”
As expected, they hadn’t programmed that part.
While the game offered incredibly realistic sensations—touch, sleep, even hunger—taste was a different matter altogether.
Naturally, for foods I’d never experienced in real life, my brain had no data to simulate the flavor.
Just as I turned my head back to the plate, still mulling it over.
‘Huh?’
Only after the steam had fully cleared did I finally see it.
Coiled on the plate like strands of spaghetti was something black… hair.
“T-T-This…”
A wave of instinctive disgust surged through me, sending chills down my spine.
‘That’s definitely hair.’
And not just a stray strand or two—it was a whole clump, with roots still attached.
I’d cleaned the floor of my old studio apartment more times than I could count. I knew exactly what hair like that looked like.
My appetite, which had just started to return, vanished instantly. A deep frown formed before I could stop it.
“Sigh.”
Realistically, no sane chef would put hair into a dish on purpose, so it had to be a system bug.
Maybe… since the game uses low-level AI, it mistakenly identified the white plate as a face and decided to ‘attach’ hair to it?
I’d heard that some game companies used AI to cut animation costs, but this was a virtual reality game—something far beyond basic animation.
And now, seeing firsthand how those cost-cutting measures had crept in… it completely killed the mood.
‘Should I lower my rating for this game?’
The inconsistency was baffling. Some parts were so flawlessly crafted they gave me chills, while others were so sloppy that it felt like a joke. Just as I was caught in that confusion.
“Aren’t you going to taste it?”
The head chef asked, his voice suddenly cold and chilling.
When I looked at him, he was staring straight at me, completely motionless.
The excitement he’d shown while describing the dish was gone without a trace.
[Affection Level -3]
[If a major character’s affinity drops below a certain threshold, you may lose access to important information.
Try using various in-game features and items to build relationships with NPCs.]
Just like that, the affection level dropped—as if a ghost had snatched it away.
Wait… so, affection level could drop below zero…
“Uh, well, um…”
I couldn’t even hide the panic. It was written all over my face.
This? The hair? You want me to eat this?
As I hesitated, frozen by my dilemma, the head chef spoke again—his voice no longer sharp, but eerily subdued.
No… more like quietly disappointed.
“Why are you not tasting it? Are you feeling unwell, perhaps?”
That attitude confirmed what I had suspected.
‘Right. Even though this is just a game system, the AI playing the NPCs might genuinely feel disappointed.’
If this was an AI bug, then to the head chef, this probably just looked like perfectly fine spaghetti.
Still… I couldn’t bring myself to even pretend to eat this visual disaster (in a very different sense).
‘I really didn’t want to use this method…’
Glancing sideways at the warning message still blinking persistently at the edge of my vision, I reluctantly picked up a fork and speared a piece of the food.
More precisely, I speared the hair.
Even as I looked at it again and felt its texture, I was absolutely certain.
“Excuse me, but what does this look like to you?”
“…Pardon?”
“Please, look carefully.”
I gently shook the clump of hair dangling from my fork, letting it sway back and forth for emphasis.
At that, the head chef visibly panicked, fidgeting nervously.
“Sp-Spaghetti…?”
“No, seriously. Take a proper look. Does this really look like spaghetti to you? Honestly?”
I gave the hair another small shake. Every time the strands swayed, his shoulders twitched.
“It’s hair. You can’t deny it.”
“T-That can’t be…”
Of course, he was in denial.
From the head chef’s perspective, he had probably prepared what he believed was a perfectly normal plate of spaghetti, only for me to suddenly claim it was hair, leaving him no choice but to freeze in disbelief.
But in the end, AI was AI.
Artificial intelligence couldn’t determine objective facts, only predict the most plausible answer based on the flow of conversation.
Even if something was objectively false, if the user insisted enough, the AI would eventually concede.
They were, in a way, the perfect victims of gaslighting.
“Look carefully—no, seriously, just look closely. You’ll see that this is hair. There’s no such thing as jet-black spaghetti that’s this thin and feels like a scrub brush. Right?”
“I-I don’t think so…”
“It’s hair.”
“Ugh!”
Gripping his head in distress, the head chef finally nodded when I once again waved the clump of hair right in front of his face.
“Y-You might be… right…”
Against the merciless power of human gaslighting, artificial intelligence was utterly defenseless.
“I mean, you’re not seriously expecting me to eat this, right? I’m your guest, after all. There’s no way the prestigious Belmont Ducal House would do something like that. Right? Right?”
“Uh, uhhh… uh-uh-uhhh…”
Like a broken wind-up toy, the head chef’s neck creaked unnaturally as he stammered.
It seemed he finally registered the error. His eyes lit up, and he suddenly raised his voice in an exaggerated tone.
“Good heavens!”
“?”
“There must have been a mistake during the cooking process! I can’t thank you enough for pointing it out!”
[Affection Level +3]
Just as I confirmed that the lost affinity had been fully restored, the head chef bowed deeply and continued.
“If you’ll kindly forgive this, I shall prepare a perfect dish for you right away!”
At his words, the maids—who just moments ago had been showering the dish with praise—sprang into action as if they had been waiting for this cue, moving quickly to clear the plates.
I was busy savoring the sweet taste of victory when I quickly snapped back to my senses and spoke up.
“Ah, no thanks! I think I’m not feeling well. I should probably get going now.”
“B-But!”
The head chef tried to stop me, but by then, I had already untied the napkin around my neck with practiced ease.
“Ha-ha! Thanks for your hard work!”
With that, I gracefully made my exit from the dining room.
I could feel his dejected gaze on my back… Wait, how can I feel his gaze when he doesn’t even have a face?
Anyway. There was no way I was eating that.
I’m sorry, Head Chef!
Just in case he came after me, I quickly scurried back to my room.
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