Leveling Up By Surviving Alone - L.U.B.S.A Chapter 23

Should he grill the fish, or make a spicy fish stew? Neither option really appealed to him, so maybe he should try something else. As that thought occurred to him, Ji Yeonwoo suddenly realized something strange.

*Wait… have I always been able to eat this much?*

“I’m not some mukbang YouTuber…”

Looking back, he’d already eaten half the jumbo flounder, plus three more fish turned into sashimi. By weight alone, that had to be over seven kilograms. Not only had he managed to eat all of that, he hadn’t gotten tired of it—every bite still tasted delicious and satisfying. And now, here he was, planning his next meal. It was almost as if he were possessed by some kind of gluttonous spirit.

This clearly wasn’t his usual self. The only likely explanation was obvious:

“Must be thanks to **Unwavering Appetite** and **Tireless Digestion**.”

There was no other answer. At this very moment, his appetite made it possible to keep eating without getting sick of the food, and his digestion felt so strong that he could comfortably pack away everything he’d just devoured—and more. This seemed to be part of the abilities he’d gained after spending seven days in the Rift, eating and sleeping well.

“Is that a good thing?”

He couldn’t see the downside.

“What if my daily requirement gets too big and I end up starving when I can’t meet it?”

He shook his head right after saying that. Having a skill often comes with a built-in understanding of how it works. Ji Yeonwoo sensed that if he genuinely wanted or needed to eat more, he could. But if not, he could easily stop. His stomach could *expand* but wasn’t permanently larger.

Thanks to that, he could thoroughly enjoy these ingredients—cooking and consuming them without any need to hold back for fear of getting sick of them. He didn’t have to limit himself, because the more he cooked, the better his chances of learning new skills.

It was the same kind of problem his father had always faced: *What should I cook so people will say it was a feast worth talking about?* Granted, he’d been dealing with that question since his father went missing, but lately he’d been taking it more seriously.

After much contemplation, he asked himself:

“What would make for a dish so good, word of it would spread?”

He let countless ideas run through his mind: something innovative, something that could use up all these fish at once, something that would be deeply satisfying. After a long while of brainstorming, Ji Yeonwoo snapped his fingers.

“That’s it.”

He had a recipe in mind that would allow him to prepare and enjoy all these ingredients at once. Checking the supplies, he saw he’d need fish (obviously), plenty of oil, a bit of starch or flour, and so on. There was no shortage of fish, and he still had a fair amount of oil left from making those fried kelp chips. He also had enough potato starch—maybe not a lot, but sufficient for one cooking session.

“Now I just need the most important ‘ingredient’…”

He didn’t have it yet, but he knew where to find it: *a piece of rock.* Around the cliff area, there were tons of stones. However, nothing he found quite fit his needs. He was looking for a large stone with a broad, rough surface. When it was big, it was smooth; when it was rough, it was small. None of them were ideal.

After searching for a while, Ji Yeonwoo came to a sudden stop. Right in front of him was a gigantic black rock—so big, you could say it was the size of a small house—full of holes, like Swiss cheese.

It was basalt, formed by cooled lava.

“How did I not notice this before?”

It wasn’t that it was hidden; he’d just never had any reason to pay attention. You only see what you’re looking for, and he’d assumed all these cliff rocks were the same.

In any case, he’d found a large chunk of basalt. He converted his **Multi-Tool Knife** into a saw and started cutting out the portions he wanted.

**Shhk, shhk…** Little by little, he carved away the rock’s surface. It went smoothly at first but then slowed to a halt—the saw blade had worn down. But each time that happened, he changed the Multi-Tool into another shape, then back into a saw. The refreshed blade kept slicing through the basalt. After replacing the “blade” twice, he ended up with two good-sized pieces.

“Let’s do good work together.”

Patting his new “friend,” the basalt slab, Ji Yeonwoo returned home. He’d obtained two rectangular pieces of basalt, each thick enough to serve as a kind of chopping board.

Placing fish fillets between them, he pressed and rolled the two slabs together, grinding the fish down. Essentially, he was mimicking the function of a mortar and pestle, or a millstone. It worked better than using any other rocks he’d tried—he could see the fish meat getting finely mashed, making him grin in satisfaction.

“Hope this turns out tasty.”

His plan was to make **fish cakes** for a broth—**eomuk tang**. It’s a dish that blends multiple ingredients, has a pleasantly chewy texture, and never gets boring. Even after you finish all the fish cakes, the remaining broth is so rich that gulping it down warms you all the way to your stomach. Eomuk tang had always been one of Ji Yeonwoo’s favorite dishes.

Of course, he usually just bought fish cakes pre-made because that was more convenient. But in his childhood, whenever his father came back from fishing, his mother would always make her own fish cakes.

His dad was good at fishing, and his mom was generous to a fault, so huge batches of fish turned into huge batches of fish cakes, which often ended up on their table. And still, Ji Yeonwoo never got sick of them. Maybe because the recipe changed from time to time, with different seafood added—sometimes flounder, sometimes sea bream, sometimes squid, octopus, shrimp, you name it. Mixed fish cakes always tasted different, and they never had the same texture twice.

His little sister, though, used to complain on occasion:

> “Ugh, seriously, Mom! Fish cake soup, fish cake stir-fry, fish cake ramen, fish cake pancakes, fish cake egg roll, fish cake rice! I’m so sick of fish cakes! Can’t I just not eat them anymore?!”

Whenever she did that, their mother would say *“Alright, fine,”* and make something else. She’d often hand the sister a **hot bar**—essentially a fish cake on a stick with maybe some sausage mixed in—and that would shut her up. Ji Yeonwoo didn’t mind; not only did he love fish cakes, but he was happy to have a chance to eat the “special treat” known as a hot bar.

He now realized that a hot bar was really just fish cake batter with something like sausage mixed in, but back then it had seemed like a totally different flavor.

“I miss Mom’s fish cakes…!”

He did know Mrs. Kim’s recipe by heart, though. Properly ground fish meat with the right ratio of starch and a bit of salt. Dice up some bamboo shoots about one millimeter thick and mix them in. Finally, add a blend of perilla oil and sesame oil—that was the “kick” in Mrs. Kim’s recipe.

When you combine perilla oil and sesame oil in just the right ratio, it creates a savory, enticing aroma that triggered all sorts of memories here in the Rift. Even Kim Kkokko’s curiosity was piqued by the tantalizing smell wafting around.

**…Kko-kkok?**

*What is this ape-like human making this time?* Kim Kkokko had seen him transform all sorts of foods, but this transformation looked especially intriguing. Why go to the trouble of grinding it up, when it would get all mashed in the mouth anyway?

But then the ape-human scooped some of that thick mixture and dropped it into a pot of boiling liquid.

**Plop!**

The gloopy batter entered the liquid. One would expect it to dissolve and drift away, but Kim Kkokko’s prediction was off. Instead of dispersing, it clumped together and grew firm. When Ji Yeonwoo fished it back out, a savory smell hit Kim Kkokko’s beak.

It moved closer, took a cautious nibble with its beak.

**Kko… kkok?**

Chewing thoroughly—almost fighting its reflex to swallow—the chicken discovered a deep, comforting flavor. The more it chewed, the more the rich taste and pleasantly springy texture emerged. And there were bits of bamboo shoots inside, which Kim Kkokko loved most. Awed, it gazed at Ji Yeonwoo with new respect.

Seeing that look, Ji Yeonwoo grinned from ear to ear.

“Tastes good, huh?”

**Kkok!**

He scooped up two more and handed them over to Kim Kkokko.

“No more after that, okay? Got it?”

**Kkok!**

Kim Kkokko devoured the two pieces in a frenzy. Ji Yeonwoo watched with satisfaction. Part of him wanted to pop one into his own mouth, but he held back.

He had already decided that his first bite of this dish wouldn’t be just a single piece of fish cake—it would be the final, complete stew.

He fetched water from the spring, tossed in some kelp he’d harvested earlier, added soy sauce, sprinkled in some seasoned salt… and then, the most critical component: **Hondashi**.

*I can probably do this about five more times,* he thought, noting that his stash of soup base and seasonings was running low. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to skimp. He added the usual amount, simmered it gently, then dropped in all the fish cakes he’d made and tossed in some chopped green onions. He didn’t have any radishes for a refreshing flavor, but he substituted bamboo shoots he’d prepared. He let them boil gently.

**Bubble, bubble.**

Not a rapid boil, but a gentle simmer with little bubbles popping on the surface. If he had a stove with adjustable heat, it’d be easy, but instead he had to position the pot over his makeshift fire pit, raising or lowering it like doing squats to keep the temperature consistent. Partway through, he remembered to remove the kelp so it wouldn’t release any bitter flavors from overcooking.

**Bubble, bubble… boogle boogle…**

Finally, once about 20% of the liquid had evaporated, Ji Yeonwoo set the pot down on the ground.

His **Rift Fish Cake Stew** was complete.

“Wow…”

He closed his eyes and sniffed. That nutty, savory scent of fish cakes spread through the rising steam, filling his nostrils. His mouth watered uncontrollably.

No need to hesitate. He sipped a spoonful of broth first.

**Slurp…!**

“…!!”

Then he bit into one of the fish cakes. Each mouthful revealed bits of bamboo shoots that popped lightly between his teeth, ensuring he never got bored of the texture. He’d been worried that not having other chewy seafood like squid or shrimp would make it dull, but the potato starch provided more than enough bounce on its own.

When he was younger, his mom’s fish cake stew had been a familiar taste. Living on his own, he’d tried many times to recreate it but never quite succeeded. That was still true even now.

Yet for once, he could say with confidence:

“Mrs. Kim… there’s a fish cake stew here in the Rift that surpasses yours…”

Otaku_Senpai

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