After their victory, Jamal, Mike, Maluck, Chloe, Cass, and Soi headed out for a celebratory meal. Their destination? Their favorite Chinese restaurant.
It was just a few blocks from the Emerald and one of the only authentic spots in town. While plenty of places served the Westernized version—General Tso’s chicken and sweet-and-sour everything—Chloe refused to settle.
She insisted on what she called “really real” Chinese food, and Maluck? He didn’t have a strong opinion—but if Chloe wanted it, then that was the best choice.
Jamal, on the other hand, had never really tried the more traditional dishes before, growing up in a neighborhood where Chinese food meant greasy takeout from a bulletproof window.
They had soup dumplings.
“Soup dumplings,” said Chloe, “are going to change your life.”
“Oh, really?” asked Jamal, skeptical.
Maluck chimed in, “Oh, these are my favorite. Shanghai-style, the real deal. Honestly, I swear I could live off of them.”
Jamal raised an eyebrow. “What’s so great about that?”
“Wait until you try it,” Maluck said, giving him a knowing look.
Jamal stared at the little dumplings, suspicious. They looked like normal dumplings, nothing extraordinary. Sure, he had grown up in a rough part of town, but he wasn’t ignorant. He had seen his fair share of food.
“Careful,” both Chloe and Maluck warned at the same time.
“What?” Jamal asked as he took a bite, not even noticing the little warning.
That’s when the hot soup inside the dumpling squirted into his mouth, burning his tongue. “Hot!” he yelped, immediately regretting it.
But as the flavor of the soup spread, the heat didn’t matter anymore. He was reluctant to spit out the hot liquid, tasting the richness and depth of the broth. “Ah, so good,” he moaned, eyes half-closed as he savored the explosion of flavor.
Maluck leaned in, grinning. “Welcome to the world of soup dumplings.”
And as Jamal swallowed, the System pinged.
***
System Task: Convince Jamal to Eat 50 Dumplings
Bonus: +0.01 Charisma
Maluck leaned forward with a smirk. “So, Jamal, you enjoying those soup dumplings?”
Jamal, mid-bite, barely looked up. “Mm-hmm.”
Maluck’s grin widened. “How many do you think you can eat? 4?”
Jamal swallowed, then scoffed. “Four? Please. These tiny little things? I could eat at least a hundred.”
Maluck’s eyes gleamed. He knew that stat bonus was just within reach.
Maluck smirked, leaning forward. “You think you can eat 50 of them?” His tone was insolent, almost taunting, like he already knew the answer.
Jamal raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “Fifty? Please. That’s light work.”
Maluck’s grin widened. “Prove it.”
Jamal’s confidence wavered slightly as he thought of the mountain of dumplings now facing him. “Fifty?” He let out a half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re kidding, right?”
Chloe smirked, leaning back. “What? You scared?”
Maluck held up his hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’m not saying you have to do it. But, you know… the universe has spoken.”
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Jamal raised an eyebrow. “The universe?”
Maluck nodded, dead serious. “Fate, destiny, the unseen forces that guide us all. Call it what you want, but right now? It’s telling me you were born for this moment.”
Jamal snorted. “So what, I’m just supposed to blindly accept my dumpling-related destiny?”
Maluck grinned. “I mean, I wouldn’t ignore a calling this important.”
Jamal shook his head but was already reaching for another dumpling. “Fine. Guess I’ll just have to prove I’m up to the challenge.”
And just like that, the challenge was on.
Jamal started strong, popping dumplings into his mouth like he was born for this.
Five down. Easy.
Ten. Still feeling good.
Fifteen. He grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Man, I don’t know why you thought this would be hard.”
Maluck just smirked, leaning back. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll see.”
Twenty dumplings in, Jamal slowed slightly. Nothing major—just a small pause between bites. “These are kinda rich, huh?”
Chloe hid her smirk behind her cup of tea. “Oh yeah. It’s almost like they’re filled with soup or something.”
Twenty-five. Jamal took a deep breath. “Still good. Still strong.”
Maluck nodded. “Sure. No shame in tapping out, though.”
Jamal glared. “Oh, hell no. I don’t quit.”
Thirty. The dumplings felt heavier now. He wasn’t full yet, but they were starting to settle. He adjusted his posture, cracking his neck like a fighter about to go into round two.
At this point, the chefs in the kitchen were frantically making dumplings, moving with the kind of urgency usually reserved for high-end dinner rushes or reality cooking shows. The manager eventually came out, wiping his forehead, and approached the table with the cautious politeness of a man who didn’t want to offend a very, very hungry customer.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, clasping his hands together. “I’m sorry to bother you, but… are you planning to order more dumplings?”
Maluck, looking at the sweaty Jamal said with a grin. “Oh yeah, at least another couple trays.”
The manager inhaled sharply. ‘A couple trays?’ Each tray held six dumplings, and these weren’t the kind of dumplings that sat around well—soup dumplings had to be eaten fresh. Once they cooled, the soup inside congealed, turning them from heavenly bites of liquid gold into sad, chewy sacks of disappointment.
“I—ah…” The manager hesitated. “You do know soup dumplings aren’t as good once they start cooling, right?”
Chloe chimed in. “That’s not a problem.”
The manager glanced at the tower of empty trays stacking up on the table. On one hand, this was a ridiculous amount of dumplings. On the other hand? Extra orders meant extra money. He grinned at the thought, then turned back toward the kitchen, waving his arm.
“Keep ‘em coming, boys!” he called out in Chinese, his voice carrying over the clatter of woks and steamers.
Theo, watching with amusement, spun a lazy circle with his chopsticks. “You know, statistically speaking, most people tap out around thirty-five.”
Jamal scowled. “Then I guess I’m not most people.”
Thirty-five. He chewed slower now. His once-confident posture slouched slightly.
Maluck raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You look like most people.”
Jamal wiped his mouth, took a deep breath, and forced himself to sit up straight. “Shut up, man. I got this.”
Forty. The table watched in anticipation. Jamal was visibly struggling now, his pace slowing to a crawl.
Forty-five. He stared at the dumplings like they had personally wronged him.
Cass nudged Maluck. “Think he’ll make it?”
Maluck smirked. “Oh, he’ll make it. His pride won’t let him quit now.”
Jamal picked up dumpling #46, eyes half-lidded, movements sluggish. He bit down, chewed, swallowed—and immediately leaned back in his chair, groaning.
“I hate all of you.”
Chloe laughed. “You’re the one who said you could eat a hundred.”
Jamal waved her off. “I was talking big—why didn’t anyone stop me?”
Theo shrugged. “For science.”
Forty-eight. His chewing was slow, deliberate, and borderline painful.
Maluck grinned. “You could stop now. No shame in it.”
Jamal glared daggers at him, grabbed dumpling #49, and shoved it into his mouth without a word.
Cass leaned in. “He’s gonna pass out.”
Fifty.
Jamal slammed his chopsticks onto the table and threw his hands up like he’d just won a championship fight. “THAT’S RIGHT! I’M A BEAST!”
Maluck chuckled, the faintest shimmer of System confirmation appearing in his vision.
[System Task Completed: Convince Jamal to Eat 50 Dumplings]
Bonus: +0.01 Charisma
Jamal slumped back in his chair, looking like he had deep regrets about his life choices.
Chloe smirked. “How do you feel?”
Jamal groaned. “Like I never want to see another dumpling again.”
Maluck grinned, signaling the waiter. “Perfect. Let’s get another round.”
Jamal shot him a look filled with pure betrayal.
Maluck grinned to himself, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. His 1.73 Charisma, combined with the undeniable authority of being Jamal’s boss, had sealed this win.
He barely had to push—just the right words, the right tone, and Jamal’s pride did the rest.
“Too easy,” Maluck muttered under his breath, watching Jamal slump in his chair, utterly defeated by dumplings.
That night, Jamal had a nightmare. A towering mountain of evil soup dumplings loomed over him, their little doughy faces twisted into sinister grins. Steam billowed like an ominous fog as they cackled in eerie unison.
“You wanted more, huh?” one sneered.
“Eat us, Jamal!” another chanted.
Jamal tried to back away, but his feet were stuck—buried in an endless sea of discarded dumpling trays.
In the Astral Universe, Gluttony roared with laughter, clutching his belly. “That’s my boy! Worth every System point!”
