I know what you're going to say. "James, another fanfiction?! You have two active already!" I understand. But a few months ago, I've requested a short about the farmer being a master chef before arriving to the Valley to @Skyloft-Farm . After that, she posted her masterpiece and immediately fell in love with it. At December 9th, 2016, I've decided to return the favour by making a fully fledged chapter about it and asked for her opinion and she loved it! Thanks to her inspiration, I want to write this fanfiction. Don't worry, Experiencing Freedom and The Signal WILL be written. I already have one chapter on the works for each of them! As it's winter break for me, I have the liberty to post this. Once again, thank you so much, @Skyloft-Farm ! “Order up!” A waiter called out from behind the counter as he posted a piece of paper on the wall. Catherine rushed from her stool, picked it up and gave it a read. ‘1x Caviar Aglio Olio Spaghetti 2x T-Bone Cheese Steak (Medium-rare) 1x Rice Pudding w/ grilled lobster 1x Addenell Bruschetta (4-Serv) 4x Peach Ice Cream’ Catherine gave a nod. Seeing that somebody ordered her famous bruschetta, she knew that this was her job. 23-Year old Catherine Addenell works in a 5-Star hotel kitchen as a chef in Zuzu city. She wasn’t just a regular cook, but was known as the greatest and youngest master chef in all of Ferngill Republic. She had emerald eyes accompanied with brunette hair and a slightly tanned bright skin. Born from a poor family in the capital, Arcadia, she had grown interest in videogames and cooking since she was eight years old. With the approval of her middle school principal, she was able to attend a highly prestigious culinary school when she was thirteen thanks to her excellent grades and scholarships. Both of her parents have unfortunately deceased, leaving Catherine’s 21-year old brother Gabriel the only family member alive. Although Gabriel wasn’t interested in cooking, he now works as the prime bartender in the Olde Smith Club, a very popular club where many famous authors hang out. Catherine was about to light the stove to start cooking when she heard another “Order Up!” from behind the counter. Thinking that this wasn’t her job, she gave a simple shrug as she walked to the giant refrigerator where all of the ingredients were stored. Just as he opened it, a middle-aged stout chef approached her. “Ma’am?” The chef called. “Yes, Mr. Belinski?” Catherine asked. “The latest order is Priority-One. We need you here.” Priority-One. That is what the chefs call the orders from VIPs. “That’s strange.” Catherine said, scratching her head. “I’ve never heard of any news about VIPs coming in our hotel today.” “Well, it’s… uh… hard to explain.” Mr. Belinski hesitated, making the master chef sigh. “Look, I really need to start on my order. Whoever’s behind mine had ordered the bruschetta! You know that I don’t want to disappoint anyone who orders this!” “…But he’s the representative of the Joja Corporation!” Mr. Belinski said. “He’s… WHAT?” Catherine was shocked. The hotel she works in is owned and sponsored by the Joja Corporation, thus placing the nail in the coffin. This was the main reason of why almost all of the food ingredients weren’t fresh. ‘No wonder this order is Priority-One.’ She thought, and then opened her mouth. “May I see the order?” She asked. The chef handed her the paper that had the representative’s order. ‘1x T-Bone Steak w/ Fois Gras + Truffles (Medium) 1x Cream of Lobster’ “That’s it?” Catherine asked, flabbergasted. How the hell is this an order from a VIP? The chef nodded in reply. All of this made Catherine think deeply. Her order consisted of her famous bruschetta. In fact, one of the top reasons of her fame was because of that. She hated disappointing her guests about this. In the other hand, however, the new order was from the representative of the company that sponsored her. Should she be unable to satisfy the VIP, Joja would crush her down. Despite worried about her reputation, she reminded herself of how much she hated the company, making her decision. “Mr. Belinski, can you call Iftekharul?” “Yes, chef.” Mr. Belinski complied, then turned around. “Iftekharul!” “Yes, Mr. Belinski!” A lean, short brown-skinned man ran to the two. This was Iftekharul Haque, the 22 year-old chef from Bangladesh. He was the best student of Catherine. “Iffy, I want you to make this order!” Catherine ordered, handing him the paper that Mr. Belinski had. Her student read it, turning his handsome face into a frown. “Ch… chef, this is Priority-One! I… I don’t think I can make this!” Iftekharul stuttered. “Besides, can you please stop calling me by that?” “Iftekharul, you’ve passed all of your exams I’ve given and your skills nearly match mine! I’m sure that even Gordon Ramsey would approve your skills! If you say no, I’ll always call of Iffy from now on!” After a short pause, the brown man started to hesitate. “Time’s gold here!” Catherine added. “…Yes, chef.” Iftekharul finally said, taking the order. “Damn, how am I going to do this?” He said to himself as he collected his ingredients and walked to his stove. “I guess that solves everything.” Catherine said to Mr. Belinski. “I guess, chef.” The stout man said before walking back to the cutting board he was working on. Nodding, Catherine quickly pulled out her required ingredients and walked to the stove. With the last piece of bruschetta, Steak pieces, rice pudding and spaghetti plated, Catherine rang the bell after placing the plates on the counter. Soon enough, a waitress swiftly placed the plates on a tray and zoomed to the table. Catherine took the liberty to observe the waitress as she walked to her destination. The waitress stopped at a table with four people: One middle-aged woman with red hair, a dark-skinned middle-aged man, a dark-skinned teenage girl and a young raven-haired man with the skin as pale as the middle-aged woman. She tried to concentrate on the food, but for some reason, her mind forced her eyes on the raven-haired man. ‘Why, brain?’ Catherine scolded herself just as a familiar voice called her. “Miss Addenell?” The voice called. It was Iftekharul. “I, uh… need your evaluation?” “Of course! Hang on, Iffy!” Catherine chirped before jogging to the dark-skinned man. Iftekharul’s reaction to his nickname made everyone in the kitchen laugh. “What’s up?” The master chef asked when she was beside her student. “Chef, I need to know if I did this properly.” Iftekharul nervously said. Nodding, Catherine took a small sip of the cream of lobster. The two things that made Catherine special was her very sensitive sense of smell and taste. She used this as an advantage to test her food to perfection. “This… this is exactly like how I make it!” Catherine complimented, taking a nibble of a piece of steak. “This too! Iffy, you’re improving!” “Thank you, chef, but please, enough with the nickname!” Iftekharul grunted. “I’ll send this to the VIP.” Catherine happily nodded as a waiter tapped her shoulder. “Chef, table-13 asked for your appearance.” The waiter said. Catherine’s smile immediately disappeared as she walked out of the kitchen. The waiter guided Catherine to the table that he was talking about. The table had four people… ‘Wait, they’re the guys that gave the order!’ She thought as she placed her hands behind her, looking as formal as possible. “Is there a problem, sir?” She asked the dark-skinned man, hiding her worry. However, as she looked at the faces of him and the red-haired woman, it seemed to have disappeared. “I just want to say how delicious your bruschetta is!” The Dark-skinned man complimented. “Today’s my wife’s birthday and you’ve sure made her day!” “Why thank you, sir. It’s my specialty to satisfy people!” Catherine replied, smiling. “No wonder why you’re the best chef in the country! Isn’t that right, Sebby?” The woman asked the raven-haired man. “Mom, not in public!” The raven-haired man hissed, and then faced Catherine. “Anyway, it’s really good!” he complimented, giving thumbs up as he munched on a bruschetta. This all made her blush followed by a warm sensation flowing around her heart. What was this feeling? When she saw the bruschetta plate empty, she saw the raven-haired man going for his cheese steak. “Sir, sh…should I c…cut it for you?” She involuntarily asked, walked to the man. ‘DAMNIT, CATHERINE!’ She screamed in the inside. However, the man nodded with a smile and placed his fork and knife down for her to use. As she cut his steak, her eyes couldn’t help but veer to his, making Catherine almost miss the steak entirely. In the end, she managed to pull it off, making the raven-haired man smile and blush. “Thank you.” The man said. “All in a day’s work, sir.” Catherine said, trying to hide her rosy cheeks. Just as she was being showered by compliments from the woman about her spaghetti, she was startled by a sudden yell. Catherine and her four guests turned to the source: A short stout man with black hair and glasses wearing a tuxedo was yelling at… Iftekharul? “How DARE you make me this garbage?! How are you even hired in our hotel?! You should be deported back to wherever you came from and work in a brick factory!!” The man shouted at Catherine’s student. She noticed Iftekharul trying his best to not cry. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Catherine apologized to the family and quickly walked to the stout man. “Is there a problem, sir?” She asked. Immediately, the rage-drowned face of the stout man turned into a smile once he saw her, making her furious. “Oh, if it isn’t Master Chef Addenell! This person made a terrible mistake at my food and I was…. Scolding him.” The man said. Catherine nodded as she secretly inspected the man. This man wa Morris Padelaski, the so-called representative of Joja Corporation of Zuzu City. She was disgusted by his face. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make your order again.” Iftekharul apologized, taking the plates. “No, you idiot. I want Chef Addenell to make mine!” Morris scoffed. Catherine nodded before following her student back into the kitchen. When Catherine and her student were inside, Iftekharul burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, chef! I’ve disappointed you!” He cried, covering his face. “Iffy, it’s okay! You’ve done nothing wrong!” Catherine assured, taking a bite of the steak he made. “Your food is perfect, as I said before!” She said with honesty. This all made her question: Why would Morris be furious about food that is almost equivalent of her level? She saw that the entire kitchen’s attention was on the two. “Get back to work! Concentrate on your food!” She exclaimed. “Yes, chef.” Everybody complied before returning to their businesses. “I’m not worthy of working with you…” Iftekharul sobbed. “IFTEKHARUL!” Catherine shouted, startling everyone in the kitchen. “Why do you hate yourself?! I understand that this isn’t your first time, but the man you’ve served is a complete douchebag! Everybody knows that! Isn’t that right, Mr. Argonev?” She asked a chef closest to her. “Of course, chef. He always scolds us about his food.” The chef replied. “Count me in! He threw my plate of salmon set across the carpet!” Another agreed. “Me too!” Another added. Soon enough, nine out of ten chefs agreed. “You see, Iftekharul? You’re not the only victim of Morris! Keep your chin up!” Catherine said. “I have to prepare my table’s dessert.” “Th… thank you, chef.” Iftehkarul replied, wiping his tears. “Now, remember that you’re my most favorite student! Come on, you’ve got another order in your stove.” Catherine’s student nodded and walked to his station. Catherine walked to the ice-cream machine to scoop up four large globules of sweet cream and put it in four crystal bowls, finishing off with slices of peach. She placed the bowls on the counter and rang the bell. After all of this, she started cooking the T-Bone steak and Cream of Lobster for the dreaded Morris Padelaski. It was 12 o’clock when the chefs were dismissed for the day. Catherine walked into her and her brother’s house and dropped her bag on the sofa. She gave a sigh as she collapsed on her desk chair. In days like these whenever she or her students were scolded, a few rounds of videogames helped her. As she opened a drawer to look for her Playstation controller, she noticed that her controller wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t inside. There was a yellow envelope with a purple seal attached to it. ‘Haven’t I seen this before…?’ Catherine thought to herself as she picked it up. She opened it and started reading. Dear Catherine, If you are reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing has happened to me during my young days of being pushed around by big companies. All of this made me want to find what I have lost: Real connections between people and nature. So I dropped everything and went to the place where I truly belong: The Demeter Farm. It is located in Stardew Valley, in the southern coast of the country. I have placed a deed to that place in this envelope. I know you will make our family proud. Good luck, Catherine. You were my favorite grandchild. PS- If Lewis is fine, please tell him that I will miss him. -You grandfather, Jonathan Addenell. Catherine shifted in the envelope the find the deed that the letter was talking about in the letter. Suddenly, she remembered. This was the final gift that her grandfather had given before his departure from this world. She collapsed on the sofa and shed tears. She may love her job as a hotel chef, but her hatred to Joja was enough to strengthen her desire to go to wherever this Valley is. She immediately knew what to do. She rushed to her room and started packing her stuff, prioritizing on her computer and clothes. After thirty minutes of packing, she took her membership card of Olde Smith Club and walked out of the house. She had to contact her brother.