Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite] – CH11

Chapter 11: Spook High (11)

The cafeteria remained dead silent, save for the wet, rhythmic sound of chewing.

Qin Fu’an strolled back to the serving window and tapped his knuckles against the clear glass pane with a faint smile.

“A faculty lunch, please.” This time, instead of his student ID, he produced a substitute teaching certificate that had materialized out of thin air in his pocket.

Surprising yet completely within reason, the pig-headed entity—who had been snarling and snapping about wasted time moments earlier—instantly broke into an oily, fawning grin upon seeing the credential. Snorting and wheezing with exaggerated deference, it hurried to ask Qin Fu’an to wait just a moment.

Through the glass, Qin Fu’an glanced sideways and caught sight of the kitchen quickly assembling his requested meal.

Fresh meat, crisp vegetables, and remarkably deft knife work from the pig-headed cook…

Qin Fu’an let out a soft sneer. Looking down at the teaching certificate pinched between his fingers, he twirled it lazily before letting it drop back into his tracksuit pocket.

From the second he had stepped into the cafeteria, this string of maneuvers had stunned not only the surviving players, but also the livestream audience waiting to watch him get butchered.

[Wait, can someone explain why the homeroom teacher suddenly went berserk?!]

[I already knew this rookie was a smooth talker, but damn, I still underestimated that mouth of his. Forget those pretty green eyes—his tongue is the real eldritch weapon here!!]

[Hold on, isn’t everyone missing the point? Look at him—he’s clearly not human!!!]

[? Hey now, let’s keep it civil, no racial profiling.]

[I can back that up, he really doesn’t seem human! What normal human has eyes like that?]

[@LivestreamAdmin, mind explaining? Are you not even screening for species anymore when picking players??]

[Holy crap, this is getting wild. First time I’ve ever seen a non-human entity outside of an instance environment. Followed!]

[Follow +1. I just love watching a streamer play these horrors like a fiddle.]

[…]

From the moment Qin Fu’an sat beside the teacher with that tray of slop, his stream’s heat had been climbing steadily. When he pulled that substitute teaching certificate from his pocket, the concurrent viewership shattered a critical threshold.

Right on cue, a crisp, mechanical chime rang in Qin Fu’an’s ear.

“Greetings, Player. Congratulations! Your bound livestream has surpassed 1,000 concurrent viewers and 50,000+ heat, successfully granting early access to interactive audience permissions.”

“Greetings, Player. Congratulations on unlocking early interactive permissions. To reward your stellar performance, the game administration hereby confers the Special Rookie Title: ‘Rising Star.'”

“Click to view your title details.”

Woven into the polite, monotone system alert was a faint, easily overlooked notification chime.

Yet Qin Fu’an didn’t check the details right away. Instead, he lifted his eyes toward the virtual screen that had materialized out of thin air.

It had appeared soundlessly. Aside from Qin Fu’an, none of the other players seemed capable of perceiving it.

It made sense; if every player could read everyone else’s floating display, the entire trial and its instances would descend into immediate chaos.

As he mused over it, a dense cascade of colorful bullet chat rolled steadily down the translucent screen.

[Damn! Rising Star! This is the first time I’ve ever watched a rookie unlock that title with my own eyes!]

[User ‘SawAGhostAgainToday’ tipped Player: Super Moon x10.]

[User ‘Gewei’ tipped Player: Crimson Moon x5.]

[Ahhh, witnessing the rise of a new star in real time! This is only his first instance! I’m already hyped to see him sweep through the intermediate tiers!]

[Streamer, streamer, can you see our chat now? Friendly tip: engaging with your audience gives a massive boost to your room heat~]

[User ‘ImReallyBroke’ tipped Player: Spooky Villa x3.]

[The guy above claiming he’s broke—if you’re broke, what does that make me when I can’t even afford glowing chat?!]

As the messages scrolled by in a blur, Qin Fu’an mentally tapped on the “Player Notice” icon in the upper right corner.

1: Players cannot close or disable the stream. The broadcast automatically starts upon receiving the main quest and terminates upon clearance or death.

2: During instance runs, colluding with viewers to cheat under any circumstance is strictly prohibited. Violations will escalate the difficulty rating and forfeit all accumulated heat points.

3: Audience origins are diverse and unverified; beware of intentional sabotage, incitement to infighting, or lethal traps. Discern advice at your own risk.

4: While bound to this system, disclosing game-related information to any non-player lifeform in the outside world is strictly forbidden. Violators face immediate and permanent erasure.

5: This broadcast platform…

What met his eyes was a long, exhaustive list of conduct rules alongside conversion rates for stream heat and points.

Scanning the text briefly, Qin Fu’an finally turned his attention back to the restless, scrolling chat.

Judging by the audience’s reactions, this “Rising Star” title was exceptionally rare.

He also noticed a small flame icon representing his room’s heat in the upper left corner, the numbers beside it surging at breakneck speed. That meant within mere minutes, a flood of new viewers had poured into his channel through recommended feeds.

Spotting a shimmering, high-tier comment that read—[Is this the rookie who just bagged ‘Rising Star’? Why does he have green eyes? He doesn’t even look that built. Did he farm all this heat off his face?]—Qin Fu’an raised a brow with clear amusement.

He lightly brushed his fingertips against his cheek, chuckling softly. “It seems that even in an eldritch broadcast, having a decent face counts as a genuine skill, doesn’t it?”

The chat froze for a split second, only for a sparkling, high-priority comment to flash across the screen.

[Allow me to translate for those who didn’t catch the subtext: I know I’m gorgeous, but I didn’t realize even monsters were this shallow. Doesn’t that mean I’m going to dominate this entire niche?]

Reading this personalized “translation,” Qin Fu’an didn’t deny the creative liberty taken. Instead, he gave a brazen nod of approval: “Spot on. Our friend ‘MoonbathingAtMidnight’ translated that flawlessly. Every syllable matches my thoughts.”

Pausing for thought, he added with an appreciative grin, “Since you read me so well, you’re officially appointed as my royal interpreter from here on out.”

The chat: “…”

We miscalculated. We have never seen a player this shameless!

Even the viewer named “MoonbathingAtMidnight” went silent for a few seconds before slowly dropping another tip.

[User ‘MoonbathingAtMidnight’ tipped Player: Crimson Moon x1.]

That was an implicit acceptance of the flattery. It also meant that for a long time to come, as long as Qin Fu’an stayed alive, this viewer would remain a fixture in his channel.

In short, with nothing more than a single tease, Qin Fu’an had secured a dedicated, paying fan who doubled as a free translator.

The rest of the chat: “…”

What kind of black magic does this guy have? A casual compliment from him carries this much weight?!

Dammit! Why wasn’t I the one he praised?!

Amid the banter, the pig-headed chef emerged carrying a tray bearing a fragrant, steaming spread.

Bending low with a servile grin, it offered the meal to Qin Fu’an.

Before taking it, Qin Fu’an gave it a quick look. It wasn’t remarkably decadent by normal standards, but quality was entirely relative.

Compared to the slop dished out to the students of Spook High, the lunch he held in his hands was practically a gourmet feast.

The pig-headed cook treated faculty with exceptional care. Not only was the food appetizing, but the portions were remarkably generous.

Moreover, rather than the metal trays the students used, the meal was packed into an expansive, compartmentalized bento box.

The kind designed for teachers to take back to their desks and savor at their leisure.

Taking the hefty container, Qin Fu’an snapped the lid shut and resumed his duties, conscientiously supervising the NPC students as they finished their lunch.

The four words “Zero Waste” were plastered across every cafeteria wall. Even though Qin Fu’an had been the first to discard his bowl of porridge, none of the student NPCs dared to follow his lead.

It wasn’t until only the players remained that they finally dumped their slop with guilty conscience.

“This shouldn’t count as waste, right?” Bai Song muttered, seeking comfort in his own words. “I really couldn’t swallow it. If I forced it down, I’d just puke it back up… Right, I’m just saving everyone the disgust.”

Chen Qi glanced at her own floating chat screen, knitted her brows, and whispered a quiet refusal: “He earned that meal through his own means. I have nothing of equal value to trade him for it. The campus store sells packaged snacks anyway; I’ll just grab something there to tide me over.”

It seemed her viewers were egging her on to negotiate a trade with Qin Fu’an.

Overhearing this, Qin Fu’an made no display of unprompted charity. Chivalry and soft-heartedness were traits completely absent from his nature.

Fearing they might need stamina for whatever horrors lay ahead, the other players banded together after tossing their food, heading toward the small campus convenience store next door to fill their empty stomachs.

Qin Fu’an didn’t join them.

First, he was broke.

Second… he was still broke.

Getting that single lollipop earlier that morning had taken considerable effort, nearly costing him his life right here in this very cafeteria.

The viewers who had followed his perspective earlier yearned to warn the naive players, but every frantic hint was flagged and scrubbed by the system filters. Sending too many triggered automatic suspension warnings.

The audience could only watch in silence as the players brandished their student cards and stepped into the convenience store.

Meanwhile, Qin Fu’an carried his bento box back to Grade 12, Class 4.

Strolling along the pathway, a casual upward glance was all it took to see that massive, sprawling, chaotic soul originating from his deskmate, casting its colossal shadow over the entire campus.

And when he reached the classroom door with the food in hand, Qin Fu’an saw a pitch-black tentacle stealthily snake forward to coil around his wrist, its tapered tip inching out to curiously probe the lunchbox.

Qin Fu’an: “…”

He lifted his eyes toward Xie Yunhuai.

The boy sat rod-straight, his head bent low, completely absorbed in his book.

Qin Fu’an let out a low, amused huff, abruptly abandoning a few of the petty pranks he had been drafting in his head.

Such as sitting right beside his little deskmate to eat, forcing the boy to watch every bite while swallowing his saliva in bitter silence…

Raising a Wife in a Supernatural World [Infinite]