A gooey, sticky, and slightly funky white ball sat on a weathered desk with more holes than Swiss cheese. That was what stared Colby in the face. The ball mocked him. He could feel it. Though it looked like any other mozzarella ball that he had made time and time again, his cheese sense was tingling. Something was off.

  Colby dug his finger into his creation, feeling the softness melt around the digit, only to encounter a rock-hard center. He knew it. Something was definitely wrong. Mozzarella was supposed to be soft all around.

  A long sigh escaped his lips. Another failure.

  This was what he got for diverging from the recipe. Who knew using Skate Goat milk instead of Daisy Cow milk would cause all sorts of problems? But it shouldn’t be this hard. Cheese was supposed to be what he was good at.

  “Broby!” a high-pitched, cheerful voice rang right next to him.

  He recoiled and clapped a hand over his right ear.

  Colby glared at the perpetrator. It was his little sister, Brie. She gave him a cheeky smile, showing off the bright pink gap from where a tooth had fallen out.

  “Brie, I told you not to do that.”

  The little blonde-haired girl giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. “Sorry, Broby. But there’s a costumer downstairs who wants some cheesy cheese.”

  “Thanks, Brie. And it’s pronounced customer.” He smiled, patting her on the head. “Don’t tell mom I was upstairs experimenting again, okay?”

  “Okay, Broby,” she giggled.

  Colby smiled one last time before getting up from his wooden stool. His not-so-secret lab was nothing more than his and Brie’s shared bedroom. He shifted the ball of failure to the left side of his desk—the ‘failure of failures’ pile. It joined a mountain of other similar white balls, all with their unique aspects, which made them unsafe to eat.

  His most recent failure would cause someone to chip a tooth if they unknowingly bit into the delectable ball of deception. The rest would cause a stomachache or worse. He didn’t need to taste it to know that the cheese had gone bad. Heck, he didn’t even need to smell it—not like the putrid, rancid odor they gave off was great at hiding their deception.

  The right side of his desk was the ‘failed but could still be redeemed’ pile. In other words, the cheese there was still edible, just not the best tasting, or they had a weird texture to it. It was also his dinner tonight. Wasting cheese was a sin. Just ignore the left pile on his desk. Those weren’t cheese anymore.

  Colby rushed out the open door, flying down the stairs two steps at a time. Near the end, he leaped off, landing with a thud.

  “Broby, are you okay?” Brie shouted from upstairs.

  “I am!” he shouted back. “And remember, the left side is the bad side.”

  “And the right side is the right side,” she giggled.

  Hopefully, his cheese sense wasn't off. The last thing he wanted was for Brie to get a tummy ache if she felt snacky for some cheese failures.

  One more door separated Colby from the shop. He reached for the brass knob. With his fingers clasped around the cool metal surface, he took in a deep breath and calmed himself.

  Maybe he was lucky and the customer had already left the shop. Then he could go back to experimenting with his cheese.

  Opening the door, Colby found himself very wrong.

  It wasn’t all that bad. Customers meant money. And money meant more ingredients to play with.

  He crossed the threshold and closed the door as gently as possible. The “Employees Only” sign that hung on the door jangled and clicked against the wood.

  Now, Colby stood behind another wooden desk. It was a beautiful polished brown, with only a single scratch marring its surface. An incident when an unruly customer attempted to shake his parents down for some free cheese.

  His parents gave in to the request in their own unique way. Let’s just say that the customer had cheese leaking out of every orifice for the next week.

  The customer in the shop was a young man, late teens at the earliest or early twenties at most. Judging by the brown leather armor paired with the scabbard at his waist, the customer was most likely an adventurer—either that or someone with a really bad fashion sense.

  He must’ve just finished a quest and wanted to celebrate with some cheese. The best way to celebrate, in his humble and not-so-biased opinion.

  The adventurer perused the many offerings in their quaint little shop—the best cheese shop in the whole of Brinebrook, possibly even the entire kingdom of Paralos. Again, in his humble and not-so-biased opinion.

  Cheese of all shapes, sizes, colors, and funk sat on rows upon rows of wooden shelves. Each piece of cheese was wrapped in a thin transparent film, with a special circular sticker stuck to it. Its purpose was to limit the aroma the cheese exuded. A special precaution in case some customers weren’t used to their unique smell. In which case, they’d make their disagreement known by decorating the floor with a special mixture of whatever they had just eaten. Unlike the cheese, there was no special sticker to reduce that malodor. Also, he’d have to clean it up.

  It was really useful in this case because the adventurer was currently nose-to-cheese with a block of Limburger, a cheese with a powerful nose-destroying aroma and an even more powerful taste.

  The special stickers spellcrafted by his parents were strong, but they only reduced the odor, not eliminated it entirely.

  “Welcome!” Colby said in his most customer service voice, hoping to pull the adventurer away from the cheese before he had no choice but to pull out a mop. “Is there anything special that you’re looking for?”

  The adventurer looked up from his browsing, eyeing Colby up and down. He brought his hand to the hilt of his sword. Colby’s heart hitched.

  His parents weren’t here. They were out… Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention when they announced where they were headed.

  He lacked their level of mastery over Cheese to dissuade any would-be robbers. But if this man did anything to harm a single hair on his little sister’s head, there’d be hell to pay.

  Colby eyed the Limburger that he had just saved the adventurer from. If push came to shove, he’d vault over the table and rip the aroma-reducing sticker off the block of cheese and jam it down his nostrils.

  His eyes shifted back to the adventurer. One hand on the hilt of the sword, the other on his belt. He jiggled them side to side before releasing his grip on them.

  The adventurer was just adjusting his belt. Colby wanted to smack his face. If bad cheese didn’t kill him, then his overacting imagination would.

  “Hi, I’m looking for some mozzarella, my girlfriend is always raving about it, but I can’t seem to find any. Are you sold out?”

  Colby smiled, pushing his crazy thoughts aside. “No, sir. We make our fresh cheeses fresh. That way, you’re guaranteed the best-tasting cheese possible.” He swung his arm across his chest, flashing his teeth. “Would you like to purchase a ball of mozzarella?”

  “You know it.”

  “One fresh ball of mozzarella coming right up.”

  Colby brought his hand back down to his side and closed his eyes. He honed in on his Core. The world around him smeared into a blur of colors before it focused into a concrete image.

  When he opened his eyes again, Colby—his manifestation—was standing within his Mana Core. It was small, roughly the size of a room, nothing like the huge behemoths he heard rumored to belong to those with higher Tiered Cores.

  Most outfitted their Core based on their needs, shaping Core Constructs that focused Mana into spells they’d need for daily life—mostly offensive spells in an adventurers' case. In Colby’s, it was fitted with all of the Core Constructs required to magically make cheese.

  Colby walked past Stove, a Core Construct that looked and acted as a stove. Four burners at the top, and though some models had an oven underneath, this Core Construct was based on the stove in his home. Beneath its frame was a small little cupboard that opened up to reveal the Mana Crystals powering its flames.

  Above him was a large silver pot known as Pottingham. He was still warm, with remnants of white dried-up curds stuck to the side. Beside him was Colby’s other trusty Core Constructs: Cheese Bowl, Cheese-lander, Curd-Cutter, and Temp-tation.

  Toward the end of his small Core, right next to a wooden door, was a little blue fridge, with a small freezer compartment above. It was a Core Construct specifically made for keeping cheese and its ingredients perfectly fresh—well as fresh as the Core Construct allowed.

  Fingers closed around the handle, he focused on the fridge, examining it.

  The Cheesetastic Fridge:

  Level 7

  Based on Colby’s understanding of how fridges work—which wasn’t a lot—this Core Construct helps to preserve the freshness of whatever is thrown inside.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Works best on cheese and its ingredients. Effectiveness drops sharply when used on anything not cheese-related.

  (Each level slightly extends the freshness duration of stored items.)

  Inside the fridge were all of the ingredients necessary to make a batch of mozzarella: milk, rennet, and some citric acid. Colby cracked his knuckles and grabbed the ingredients. The sooner he satisfied his customer, the sooner he could go back to experimenting with his cheese, and the sooner he could best his parents and finally have a recipe worthy enough to be sold in the shop. After that, he would be one step closer to making the ultimate cheese.

  Normally, making cheese would take up a not inconsequential amount of time, but this wasn’t any ordinary way of making cheese. This was Cheesemancy.

  Colby grabbed a bottle of milk. This time, he would follow the recipe laid out to him by his parents. He’d be using Daisy Cow milk instead of Skate Goat milk.

  He poured the cold liquid into Pottingham and added a couple drops of citric acid, while at the same time focusing on the Core Construct, examining it for any changes in its properties.

  Pottingham:

  Level 8

  A large pot that has been fed a steady diet of milk every day. In return for such kindness, it enhances the flavors of whatever milk is poured within its silvery confines.

  (Each level slightly increases the quality and flavor of curds produced.)

  The Daisy Cow milk left a hint of sweetness in the air. Once poured into Pottingham, Colby reached down and flipped the dials of Stove. Flames burst out under Pottingham, licking away at his side.

  Stove:

  Level 3

  A stove that uses Mana to create fire. Does not like things other than pots and pans to be placed on it.

  (Each level minutely increases its maximum temperature.)

  Colby ignored that specific preference of Stove, immediately placing down the bottle of Daisy Milk, which still contained a few little white droplets, on the unoccupied burner of Stove. In response, the flames produced by Stove dwindled, barely larger than a candle’s.

  Colby clicked his tongue and turned the dial up of Stove. Flames raged again, and he could feel his Mana levels drop steadily as more Mana than necessary was used to create the fire. If Stove could just keep the flames at this level, then he wouldn’t have to bring out his secret weapon.

  One of these days, he’d deconstruct Stove and make a brand new one. One that would actually listen to him, instead of retaliating by consuming more of his Mana like a toddler throwing a flaming tantrum.

  Colby sighed and checked the status within his Core.

  Core Construct Capacity: 100%

  Why did Stove have to take up so much space? He couldn’t create a new one unless he got rid of him, but if he did that, then he wouldn’t have anything to heat the milk with. And creating Core Constructs took time. A rushed job would give him something even worse than the current Stove.

  Colby sighed. That would be a problem for future him. It’s not like he’d been telling himself that every single time he was annoyed with Stove.

  He snapped out of his reflection when he noticed that the milk had started to curdle. Flipping the dial of Stove, he turned off the flames.

  Pottingham already knew the next step—quite literally. The Core Construct sprouted silvery legs beneath his base, which glowed slightly red from the heat. He waddled to the side, the milky curds within it swishing around in waves, before settling down on an empty burner. His legs folded back in, and it looked just like any old regular pot again, not one with consciousness.

  The next step was adding the rennet.

  He poured a quarter teaspoon of the liquid rennet into Pottingham. The pot moved on its own again, stirring the mixture. As the waves died out, Colby let the mixture rest for a bit.

  Soon, it thickened and looked like custard, with a clear separation between the curds and whey. The whey wasn’t too milky, nor were the curds too soft, a textbook example in his eyes—though he wasn’t the best student.

  Colby grabbed Curd-Cutter, a Core Construct whose name didn’t leave much to the imagination. Angling the knife downwards, he sliced the curds into a checkerboard pattern. As he placed Curd-Cutter back down, Pottingham got up and walked back over to the previous burner, the curds within it jiggling with every step.

  Stove’s flames were flicked back on again, allowing the curds to be cooked as Pottingham slowly stirred it.

  As the curds were being cooked, he nodded at Cheese-lander—a colander—and Cheese Bowl—a bowl. Plastic and glass limbs sprouted from their sides. They shuffled into position, standing side-by-side, before leaning into each other, the tips of their noodle-like limbs touching.

  Fusion!

  Cheese-lander and Cheese Bowl were now a single being. They were now, Bowl-lander, the best bowl and colander combination that ever existed within his Core—and the only one, but don’t tell them that.

  Staring down Pottingham, Bowl-lander strutted over to the silvery pot on four legs, two made of glass and the other two made of plastic. The glass hands gripped Pottingham, lifting him up. Silvery legs sprouted from beneath him; they wiggled in the air, though it did little to help.

  Sensing the lack of things to burn, Stove switched off his flames. Though Colby couldn’t care less about that Core Construct, not right now at least.

  The curds and whey within Pottingham flowed down into Bowl-lander. Liquid whey was strained away, leaving soft, delicious curds on the top part of the fused body. Bowl-lander placed Pottingham back onto Stove, and as expected, the defiant Core Construct didn’t even flip the flame back on. Not like Colby wanted that to happen anyway, the heating was all done, but it was the principle of the matter.

  A small silvery whimper rang out from Pottingham. Feeling bad for him, Colby poured the last few droplets of Daisy Milk into him. Immediately, the ringing died down and the milk diffused within the pot's body.

  Colby continued to observe Bowl-lander, ensuring that they were following the right steps in the mozzarella-making process. The plastic and glass hands reached into themselves and started kneading. They pressed down on the soft elastic curd, pounding, folding, and stretching the curds like they had a grudge against it until it gleamed with a glossy shine.

  Satisfied with how it looked, Colby pressed a finger into the ball of cheese. It had just the right amount of softness expected of mozzarella made out of Daisy Milk.

  “Thank you, guys. Be sure to clean up,” Colby said as he picked up the ball of mozzarella. He grabbed a pinch of salt, sprinkling it over his creation before rolling it gently between his palms, smoothing out the indent he had made and spreading the salt until it was a perfectly round ball once more.

  He moved to the other side of his Core, where a metallic hatch with multiple squarish buttons on its surface, jutted out of the wall. It was another Core Construct called Smart Waiter. On the hatch was the image of a pair of hands. Colby opened it up, revealing a plate right in the center of the box and placed the freshly made ball of mozzarella on it. After closing the hatch and pressing a button on the surface of Smart Waiter, the Core Construct hummed to life, delivering the contents to their destination.

  Colby opened his eyes, the adventurer staring right back at him.

  “Sorry for the wait,” he said.

  In his hands, a ball of mozzarella materialized.

  Congratulations! [Cheesemaking] has reached level 12!

  Yes, another level up. It meant he was getting better at making cheese. But he ignored that as a sweet and flowery aroma filled the room, and the adventurer started to drool.

  Bending down, he grabbed a sheet of transparent wrapping film from below the counter and wrapped the ball of mozzarella. Colby stuck a circular sticker, the ones that would reduce aromas, onto the film. Finally, he placed it on the counter for the adventurer to inspect.

  The adventurer picked up his majestic creation, accidentally applying too much force. Fingers punctured the mozzarella, leaving deep imprints across the glossy surface.

  “Be gentle,” Colby said.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It’ll still taste great, but in terms of looks?” He looked the cheese up and down. “It’s now a five out of ten.”

  “As long as it tastes good,” the adventurer said. “How much?”

  “Twenty-three gold.”

  A screen opened up in front of the adventurer. He placed the wrapped ball of mozzarella inside of it, ripples shimmering as his hands crossed the barrier. When he pulled them out, he had a handful of coins.

  The clattering of metal against wood was like music to Colby’s ears.

  His fingers darted to the desk, lightly tapping them as he counted. One, two, three… Exactly twenty-three coins. Perfect.

  Colby smiled. “Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your cheese. Please come again.”

  The adventurer nodded before turning around to leave. His scabbard swaying back and forth as he walked out of the shop.

  The moment he was out, Colby breathed out a huge sigh. Finally, he could go back to playing with his cheese. His hand reached for the doorknob; the moment his fingers clasped against the cold metal, a door opened.

  It was the shop door.

  Colby sighed. He turned around to find another customer. This time, an elderly lady wearing a red dress appeared. Silver hair framed her face in neat curls, and a small red purse dangled from one wrist as she waddled in.

  “Hi, Ms. M,” Colby said in that same customer service voice. “The usual?”

  “Yes, Colby dear. You know I love the chèvre you make.”

  “Got it, Ms. M.”

  Colby closed his eyes and honed in on his Core again. The Bowl-lander fusion had come undone, now separated back into a Cheese-lander and Cheese Bowl. He walked past them toward The Cheesetastic Fridge.

  His hand plunged into the area where he kept the Skate Goat milk, but all he grasped was cold air. Odd.

  Frowning, he dug his head into the fridge, feeling the frigid wind freezing his hair. Colby’s face grew pale, and his stomach sank.

  He remembered the pile of failed mozzarella balls in his bedroom. He had used up all of the Skate Goat milk.

  His parents were going to kill him.