Volume 6 Chapter 107 The Magic Of Soy Sauce
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”You gluttonous orcs!”
In Donguri Valley, the finest chef—Gaugaruga, the goblin—was seething with rage.
It was no surprise that spineless humans recoiled at offal dishes. They probably couldn’t even stomach raw meat. I had gone to the trouble of smoking it, and what did they do? They turned their noses up, muttering complaints about how it was “under-prepared” and didn’t even try to savor it.
When I saw the enemy chef had brought out offal as well, I held out a sliver of hope—maybe there was someone on their side who appreciated true flavor. But no! After laying hands on fine ingredients, what did they do? Pre-boiled them. Nervously. Boiling them first like that just drains all the taste away!
The human chef must have flirted with offal cuisine to curry favor with the Demonfolk. What a shallow fool.
But look at this! Warriors of the Demon King are swarming the human-made offal skewers!
All because of that overpowering smell! They knew they couldn’t win on taste alone, so they overcompensated with a crude, aggressive aroma.
”Spices should be used in the bare minimum!” Gaugaruga bellowed, fists clenched.
”But boss, garlic is the orcs’ favorite! Let’s throw in more, we can’t lose!” one of the apprentices pleaded.
”But—no, you’re right,” Gaugaruga growled through gritted teeth. “It seems humans like garlic too…”
Cloves of crushed garlic were being dropped, one after another, into the sauce he had painstakingly perfected.
”Ah, my precious sauce… ruined. But I suppose it can’t be helped—this is war. It’s the fault of those tasteless fools.”
He slathered the new sauce over the giant roast turning slowly over the flames. Fat dripped into the fire, hissing and popping, sending plumes of fragrant smoke billowing skyward.
”With this… we’ve won. But what a hollow victory it is.”
As he slumped down in despair, a beautiful goblin girl appeared before him, holding a wooden plate piled high with skewers.
”Thank you for the wonderful dish earlier,” she said with a smile. “This is my return gift.”
Ah, a spirit. It’s said that powerful spirits take the form most pleasing to the beholder. To an orc, an orc. To a human, a human.
T/N: This refers to the Japanese concept of spirits or kami taking forms based on the viewer’s perception, rooted in Shinto traditions.
”What’s this wooden plate? It looks flimsy and weak.”
The vessel was made from a thin sheet of wood, curved like a shaving. Do they just burn it after use? Gaugaruga stared at the wooden boat plate in astonishment. The craftsmanship was fine—but what a waste of good wood. Foolish creatures. They truly deserve extinction.
I’ll give them this: turning offal into skewers was a smart move. It looks appetizing, and it’s easy to eat. They must’ve put real effort into this dish for the competition.
First, I sniffed it. The garlic aroma is… basic. Compared to my smoked meat, it’s nothing new. But orcs like familiarity. Perhaps I was the one who overdid it.
I took a cautious bite. It was a piece cut from the wall of the small intestine. After scrubbing it clean in fear, they boiled it yet again. The meat’s natural flavor had to have been leached away.
But the first thing I tasted… was the rich sauce. The garlic was restrained—maybe ginger led the flavor? There were several forest herbs, used sparingly. Their hand was delicate. Could they be better than my own disciples?
The sweetness—crushed apples and honey, most likely. Apples are beloved by orcs, and honey is a treasured commodity. Of course it tastes good. But those are mere crutches—not proof of skill.
”It is delicious, indeed,” I muttered, unable to lie.
How long will the sauce’s flavor last? The small intestine has a tough, chewy texture. Surely, the flavor will vanish quickly. The illusion will break.
”Why… why does the flavor deepen with every chew?!”
That stubborn texture—that’s the key. The savoriness just won’t stop. I want to keep chewing. The mouthfeel is utterly addictive.
”Ah—I’ve swallowed it.”
A faint sweetness lingered on my tongue. Could every step of this have been calculated? I was entranced, already reaching for the next skewer.
This is why the orcs and goblins have gone mad for it. Even the human nobles, unaccustomed to innards, are fighting tooth and nail to get their share.
I’m defeated—at least when it comes to offal. Who would’ve thought a human chef understood the intricacies of offal better than anyone?
It must be because they rarely eat such things that humans have been forced to research them in depth. Lacking goblin finesse and orc strength, they compensate with cunning.
”Next up is soup!! A rich soup infused with spinal cord fluid! I have absolute confidence in this!”
Wooden bowls were rapidly being filled with the milky broth. The enticing aroma lured orcs and goblins alike—but the true target was the humans.
”Damn it! You lot wait your turn! Let the humans enjoy their thin broth and be content!”
The soup was crystal clear. They’d diligently skimmed the scum. Fools! That “scum” is where the flavor lives! Humans care too much about appearances.
* * *
”Hm, so this is goblin soup,” Exceneca said, approaching with a wooden bowl—the same kind used for the hormone grill—filled with a milky white soup.
The scent was strong. Too strong. Garlic, again—an attempt to mask the soup’s distinct funk.
To be honest, I don’t want this in my mouth. But it’s here now. I have no choice but to taste it. I’ll need courage.
The moment it touched my tongue, my nerves lit up. Intense umami exploded across my palate. This was the soup my body—no, my instincts—had been craving. It awakened something primal, buried deep.
”This soup is… incredibly delicious. I might lose this one,” I admitted.
Sar-Sar’s voice rang with concern. “Indeed. The goblin chef seems to possess deep knowledge of wild boar flavors.”
I’ve only cooked wild boar a handful of times. It’s clear my understanding is shallow. But I’ve won this round.
Cooking isn’t just technique—it’s culture, history, science. Gaugaruga may be a genius of his world, but my knowledge of Earth cuisine is unmatched.
This soup’s umami was intense, no doubt. The first taste is breathtaking. But the richness grows tiresome quickly. I could finish a bowl in the moment—but ask me for a second, and I’d hesitate.
Cooking is strange. You only savor it at the beginning. Is it poisonous? Rotten? Nutritious? Your tongue judges these things instantly. That’s the essence of “tasting.”
In other words, whoever serves this rich soup first wins. The second bowl becomes a burden.
If we had served our soup later, we’d have lost. If Gaugaruga thought that far ahead… that’s just plain mean.
”Well then,” I said, rising to my feet, “it’s time for a counterattack. Let’s start serving the pot-au-feu.”
I was going to use Japanese paper bowls—but I’ve changed my mind. I have some prototype ceramic bowls in stock. I’ll use those.
The glaze gives them the appearance of porcelain. First, I’ll distribute them across the region—and then, I’ll market them as a specialty item.
The soup is clear and refined. It’ll look perfect against white ceramic. And a ceramic bowl will shine far more than paper ever could.
T/N: “Pot-au-feu” is a French stew of meat and vegetables, typically beef, boiled together. Literally “pot on the fire.” A Western reader might think of it like a rustic beef stew, but in Japan it often has a clearer broth and more delicate presentation.
* * *
”So this is goblin soup! It’s rustic, but what a powerful flavor!!” Baron, the famed connoisseur, let out an admiring sigh.
The nobles around him exchanged reluctant glances—none could bring themselves to disagree.
”I can only taste garlic and salt… yet somehow, I feel a deep, layered savor,” one of them muttered.
”It’s greasy, and I feel a little guilty eating it… but I can’t deny it’s a wonderful dish,” said another, dabbing at their lips with a silk napkin.
Tizzy sipped at the soup with a complicated look—regret mixed with reluctant admiration.
* * *
”If only we could serve such dishes to the people… it would help them through the cold winter,” Nina murmured, gazing into the distance.
”If the country were governed properly, eating meat every day wouldn’t be a luxury. It should be normal. It’s not that hard to make it happen,” said Princess Auroora, her voice low but firm.
”What a dreamlike story… but surely, that person could make it real,” Nina replied with a hopeful smile.
The two continued their hushed conversation, slightly removed from the crowd.
* * *
”Next up is the soup from the Culinary King, huh? After that exquisite goblin soup, I admit I’m a little nervous,” one noble said, tapping the edge of the bowl.
”That soup bowl—what a design. Street food served with such elegance… now that is true economic power,” another observed, eyes gleaming.
”And the spoon! Look at that shine—that’s mithril, no doubt about it!!” a third noble gasped.
T/N: Mithril is a legendary metal in fantasy settings, known for being both incredibly light and strong—often used for elite weapons and armor.
Hearing this, a few nobles couldn’t resist and tried slipping the spoons into their sleeves. But recalling the unseen gods that watched over the feast, they reluctantly gave up the idea.
After all, to commit theft before the eyes of the divine could only end badly—one might literally be turned into a pillar of salt.
”I understand the tableware is splendid, but this is a battle of flavor,” said Baron. “The taste—that’s what truly matters.”
”Honestly, that goblin soup was just too delicious,” one noble sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I doubt anything else will top it.”
”Well, we can’t judge until we taste it first… hmm. This one’s a bit bland?” another murmured after a tentative sip.
”It’s refined, fit for nobility—but after the goblin soup’s richness, I can’t help but feel let down,” someone else added.
The nobles took their first spoonfuls with deliberate care. The general reaction? Lukewarm at best.
Then—crack!
A lively, crisp sound echoed across the grounds.
”WHOA!! What the hell is this—it’s so good!! This sausage is incredible!!” an orc shouted with gleeful abandon.
I downed the thin soup like it was nothing, then sank my teeth into the sausage. The casing snapped open with a pop—hot, savory meat juices burst in my mouth.
”This soup tastes like mushrooms and nuts… like the forest itself,” one of the goblins said softly, their eyes narrowing in quiet bliss.
”What? Sausage? You mean this sausage is actually good?” a noble asked, baffled.
Spurred on by the orcs’ loud reactions, the nobles hesitantly took a bite as well.
Crunch.
”Ohh! This is—!!” one gasped.
Crunch.
”What a rich flavor! It rivals the goblin soup… no—it’s even deeper!” another cried. “So that light broth was just a setup, meant to highlight the sausage? Isn’t that right, Baron-sama?”
Dozens of eyes turned to the food connoisseur, waiting.
”A clear soup with impurities meticulously skimmed away,” Baron began smoothly. “Despite using many spices, it finishes with a clean, elegant flavor. The mild notes of mushrooms, wild greens, and lily bulbs blend together with care. After too many meat dishes, you tend to grow weary—but this broth refreshes the tongue, clears away the fat, and renews the appetite. The more you drink, the hungrier you get.”
”Now that you mention it, the goblin soup was amazing at first, but I got tired of it fast,” one noble admitted. “Honestly, it was tough to finish.”
”The spinal cord is definitely tasty, but not something you want in large quantities,” Baron continued. “This sausage, though—made by blending ground meat with spinal cord and back fat, then stuffing it with chopped red meat, fava beans, walnuts, and more—it’s rich, but it uses spinal cord sparingly. It complements the soup perfectly. You can eat it to the end without getting sick of it. I could go for seconds.”
”Dishes that dull the appetite and those that whet it… I see. The result is clear,” said another noble, nodding.
”The soup battle goes to the humans, huh? That’s cause for celebration,” someone laughed.
”But let’s not drop our guard,” one said, pointing. “The next match is…”
All eyes turned to the next stage: a massive whole boar roasting slowly, the heat shimmering around it.
* * *
”Pot-au-feu is delicious, pot-au-feu!” Lady Shirakaba declared, lifting her bowl with both hands.
T/N: Pot-au-feu is a traditional French stew made of meat and vegetables simmered for hours in a light broth.
”Lady Shirakaba, it’s that good?” Tizzy asked, blinking.
”Sorry, but that spinal cord soup was kinda gross. This one suits me a lot better,” Shirakaba replied with a laugh.
”Yeah, with a bit of courage, it was tasty… but the aftertaste was the worst,” Tizzy mumbled, clutching her stomach.
”Food isn’t something you should force yourself to eat, Tizzy,” Shirakaba said kindly. “Besides, they say eating the brains or spinal cords of cows that’ve cannibalized can make you sick.”
T/N: Reference to prion diseases like BSE (mad cow disease), which are linked to feeding cows parts of other cows.
”…Do cows really cannibalize?” Tizzy asked, raising an eyebrow.
”I don’t know the details, but apparently they do,” Shirakaba shrugged.
”That sausage probably had spinal cord in it too,” Tizzy noted quietly.
”…It was boar, and it was delicious, so I’ll let it slide,” Shirakaba grinned. “We married a hell of a cook, huh?”
”Sure did. It’s delicious, and I’m happy,” Tizzy said with a smile. “This soup… it really tastes like happiness.”
”The broth is amazing. Think the secret’s soy sauce?” Shirakaba asked. “I was about to shout out in joy. At this pace, feels like we could win this thing without even trying too hard. Not like I can shoot laser beams from my mouth, though.”
”No, the real fight’s just beginning. You know… that thing,” Tizzy said ominously.
”That thing, huh? That whole roast boar’s a sight to see. Just looking at it makes me hungry,” Shirakaba replied, her eyes sparkling.
The fat dripped from the rotating roast chicken, sizzling down onto the coals. The rising aroma danced through the air, striking everyone’s stomachs with a clean blow.
”Good thing you changed clothes. This outfit’s definitely gonna smell delicious,” Tizzy teased.
”Purification magic’ll fix it, but maybe we should keep it like this. A memento, y’know?” Shirakaba said, laughing.
”This’ll be a good memory for the wedding, won’t it? Kinda suits us,” Tizzy agreed.
Shirakaba drank her soup to the very last drop, then turned to stare at Tizzy, her eyes gleaming.
”I’m not giving you mine, okay?” she said, half-serious.
”No, that’s not it,” Tizzy replied quickly. “Earlier, Sar-Sar was making gyoza, right? I think she’s planning to use the leftover soup for that.”
T/N: Gyoza are Japanese pan-fried dumplings typically filled with minced pork and vegetables.
”Of course that’s gonna be delicious,” Shirakaba said, excited. “Can’t let our guard down until the very end, huh?”
Their focus had shifted to the empty space left in their stomachs.
These two, at least, were already certain of the husband’s inevitable victory.
* * *
”Hey, boss, cheer up. The soup battle’s in the bag, right? That was just because the sausage was good. Total cheat move, don’t you think?”
”Fool. You think flimsy excuses like that will work on the Demon Lord?” the chef snapped, furrowing his brows. “With your half-baked sense of taste, you can’t possibly grasp the true greatness of that soup. The sausage? Child’s play. Even you could make something like that… no, wait. Maybe not.”
”But the roasted chicken’s definitely gonna win, right?” I asked, trying to steer the mood back.
”That better be the case,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “Still, remember this—we pursue flavor above all, as true seekers. Winning or losing is just the aftermath.”
Gaugaruga flourished a long meat cleaver. He carved into the roasted boar, slicing off the perfectly cooked outer layer and plating it onto a thick wooden dish.
”Deliver it to the human chef first!” he barked.
This is where the match is decided. I wanted to see the expression on the judge’s face the moment they tasted it—ideally, I’d deliver it myself.
But from this point on, I can’t afford to look away from the fire for even a second.
I carve off the crisped exterior while it’s at its peak, and for the undercooked inner meat, I slather on the sauce and return it to the grill.
Each cut demands its own perfect doneness. I wouldn’t trust this to the younger ones.
* * *
”Hey, human! I’m gonna let you taste the best meat dish!” the goblin shouted proudly.
The boisterous goblin dropped off a heaping mountain of meat on a thick wooden platter. Aesthetic? Who cares—it’s just grilled meat. Big, bold, and mouthwatering. Gotta eat it while it’s hot.
We grab our shares and dig in.
Uno and El are already tearing into theirs with their hands. Ms. Ant and Sar-Sar are more elegant, using knives and forks.
I go with chopsticks. Don’t want to get my hands greasy if I can help it.
Well, technically, eating with your hands is probably the proper etiquette in this world.
The piece is massive—too big for chopsticks. Gotta be close to 300 grams. If they serve something like this first, I’m screwed. I’ll fill up too fast. And once I’m full, the match is over.
I bite down, thinking I should’ve used a knife. “It’s tough,” I muttered, struggling to chew through. But the fat bursting out with every chew is criminally good.
Feels like I’ve turned into a lion, gnawing through flesh. Chopsticks are useless now. I give in, grip it with both hands, and start tearing into it like a beast. Hope my teeth hold up.
One side’s got a great char, the other still pink. But it’s cooked through.
The grilling technique is basic—high heat from a distance. No burns, just beautifully even cooking.
Closest comparison would be roast beef, maybe? But I’ve never had anything this delicious, not even back in Japan.
”It’s tasty, but I didn’t need the garlic,” El said with a frown.
El wasn’t supposed to hate garlic. But yeah, the smell’s a bit strong. Just salt might’ve been better.
They used crushed rock salt—those leftover grains are crunchy and fun to chew. Rock salt doesn’t dissolve as easily as sea salt, and it’s full of minerals, so it’s got a gentler salinity. When it mixes with the hot meat juices… ahhh, that hits just right.
Alright. I’m switching to rock salt too.
The standard salt in this world is sea salt, boiled down from inland sea water.
T/N: Inland seas are large bodies of saltwater not connected to an ocean, like the Caspian Sea.
It has a slight bitterness. Since the salinity of this world’s seawater is lower than Earth’s, it takes more fuel to make, and heavy taxes are slapped on it. That makes it expensive, but salt’s essential, so it’s a good source of income for the ruling class.
Mountain-mined rock salt, on the other hand, can be sourced cheap—especially if you know a dwarf.
T/N: Dwarves in fantasy settings often serve as skilled miners and craftsmen.
Flavor varies depending on origin. It doesn’t dissolve easily, so even if you sprinkle it directly, it’s not overpowering. You can also dissolve it in water and re-crystallize it into a form like sea salt.
Then there’s Japanese table salt. Refined sodium chloride—pure salt. Super cheap, bought by the ton.
The price difference is dramatic, but it’s not about which is better. It’s about using the right one in the right place. Salt is strategy.
”The time has come! We’re doing meat too! Starting with the spare ribs!” I announced.
I take out the iron-skewered ribs from the pressure cooker, one after another, and toss them over charcoal.
Same method as grilling offal. They’re already cooked through—just need that crisp finish.
I was planning to dip them in sauce to finish, but last-minute change of plans. A good sprinkle of rock salt from the mill will do.
The wild boar meat surpassed expectations. No gamey odor, deep umami. Already lightly seasoned. All it needs is that salt kicker.
I’m picky about the salt grind. I tweak the mill, tasting as I go to lock in the perfect coarseness.
El sneaks a bite—her palate’s sharp and dependable.
Uno talks big but she’s careless.
”This is it! We won!” El declared triumphantly.
”We won, we won!” Uno echoed, spinning with her meat in hand.
”That’s a death flag, you know. Jinxing it,” I muttered, exasperated.
I start handing out ribs hot off the grill to the eager orcs waiting nearby.
”Delicious!! So tender and chewy, it’s insane!!” one of them shouted through a mouthful.
Massive hit. Huh? Chewy?
They’re chomping the bones too.
Well, I pressure-cooked them, so the bones are soft… but that’s still unexpected.
I try a bite myself. Not impossible to chew. It does wear out the jaw, though.
Doesn’t taste bad—not at all. But… bone flavor?
”Can we eat these bones?” asked Baron, approaching with the look of someone about to say something useless.
I mean, it’s up to personal preference.
”I see. Like grape skins,” he nodded sagely. “This is an exquisite meat dish. I’ve always said rib meat is one of the finest cuts. Just salt? Sublime choice for connoisseurs. No—wait, is that a whisper of hidden flavor? Sake and soy sauce, perhaps?
By the way, I eat grape skins but not the seeds. You can extract excellent oil from the seeds, you know…”
This idiot can’t read the room at all. Does he not see this kitchen is a battlefield right now?
His palate is top-tier, but his cooking skills are a disaster. Still, I can put him to use.
I plate up the finished braised pork in a fresh bowl, garnishing it with lightly blanched watercress.
It was growing wild near the water source by the kitchen. I needed some green—this substitutes nicely for bok choy.
T/N: Bok choy is a common Asian leafy green, often used in stews and braises.
He should be able to use chopsticks, but I hand him one of those sporks we’ve been promoting.
”Ahh, what an honor! This spork is genius. I bought a hundred. I’m currently studying new table manners, actually…!! This meat!! Such tenderness!! I could bite through it with my lips!! And yet it holds together!!” he gushed, eyes wide.
He’s useless in general, but for food, he’s dependable.
An extremist type, really—makes you wonder how he carved out a place for himself in noble society.
Call it being used, call it strategy—either way, it’s impressive.
”Yay, I’ve been waiting for this!” Uno cheered, her eyes locked on the bowl.
Uno couldn’t hold back any longer. She loves braised pork.
Her impulse control is basically that of a child or a god.
”Braised pork really is the best. Too bad it’s not cola,” she sighed dreamily.
”Does it go that well with cola? Wait, don’t tell me—you braised it in cola? No… that’s… plausible,” Baron mused, his face suddenly intense.
The Baron might be some kind of food esper.
Sure, cola-braising works.
T/N: Using cola in cooking is a real technique in Japanese and Western home recipes. The sugar and carbonation help tenderize meat and add a sweet-savory profile.
But it doesn’t fit the theme of this flavor battle. I used a light touch of apples and honey, no added sugar or syrup.
I don’t want to win with some cheap sweetener hack.
”What the hell is this?! It’s too good! Sweet seasoning is totally cheating!!” shouted the goblin who’d been helping Gaugaruga.
”Fool! We’ve lost. Don’t disgrace us any further,” growled Gaugaruga, striding over.
Gaugaruga’s finished serving the roast. He slams a fist into the younger goblin’s head.
Power harassment? Barbaric, yeah. But the goblin looks… happy? He’s holding his head, grinning like an idiot. Cultural differences.
Now that I think about it, this might be my first close look at goblins outside of Rin.
The slave market ones were filthy, ugly, emaciated.
These ones? Sturdy, well-fed. Clearly taken care of.
This Demon Lord understands the value of logistics. That alone makes him a terrifying foe.
Most priests and nobles here probably don’t grasp that at all.
In a medieval world like this, the only people who might understand logistics are merchants or quartermasters—not frontline fighters, and their voices don’t carry weight.
With that in mind, this Demon Lord… is sharp.
Can I negotiate with him?
* * *
”Ohhh! So tender! It’s kind of sweet! I’ve never eaten such delicious wild boar before!!”
Just as I aimed, the braised pork was a huge hit with the orcs too. The outcome of the flavor competition is already decided.
Gaugaruga, who quickly acknowledged his loss, is impressive. He’s calmly and objectively assessing the situation. Could I do that?
I’d want to add him to my team if possible.
”We could have made the meat tender too. But the orcs don’t prefer meat without texture. Originally.”
”Then why are they so happy? Tell me, boss!”
”Because we let them eat bones first. By giving them soft meat after they’ve used their jaws, we eliminated their dissatisfaction. Plus, it made the tenderness of the later meat stand out even more.”
I see, that’s amazing, me. It was just a coincidence, but maybe I was unconsciously calculating it.
”To see through that, you’re quite the chef. I’ve changed my perception of goblins. I’d want to hire you as a head chef in my household.”
The food connoisseur Baron is puffing out his chest with pride. The goblins don’t seem displeased at being praised.
Demonfolk can intuitively see through lies. It’s a strange power, not even magic. Spirits and El are especially amazing, so you can’t hide anything.
Most humans dislike having their hearts read, though. Once you get used to it, it’s actually convenient. It reduces misunderstandings.
Well, people can’t change overnight. If you want to avoid killing each other, you can only take your time and approach slowly.
I wonder if we’ve made any progress in this flavor competition? I can’t believe the demon lord would sheath his sword over something like this, but I hope we’ve at least established some negotiation channels.
What concerns me is the bad attitude of the human nobles. Those troublesome guys were troublesome even in front of the gods. The orcs, who were honestly enjoying the food, left a better impression.
There was an orc, screaming like a fool with a mouthful of spare ribs, but that guy probably has some divine protection. Gaugaruga and that disciple, the food connoisseur baron too.
If the nobles found out about this, there’d be a huge uproar. They think that if they achieve military exploits on the battlefield, they’ll gain the gods’ favor. They lack flexibility in their thinking.
* * *
Once it was clear who won, the humans erupted in joy. The Demon King’s side didn’t seem that down, though. Gaugaruga even declared he’d take full responsibility. No way he’s gonna get executed, right?
Since the gods didn’t clean up after, Pansy’s Telepo Taxi was super busy with shuttle service to the royal capital.
We ate our meal while glancing at that.
Honestly, I’m full. But El and Claire probably want more, and Uno and the spirits could eat forever.
”May I join you?”
The food connoisseur baron didn’t seem to have gone home yet.
”Sure, but can you still eat?”
Unlike Sar-Sar, who was cutting her food into tiny pieces and eating just a little, this guy was devouring everything that was served.
”There’s nothing impossible for my stomach.”
”You’re amazing.”
His Buddha belly almost looks cool.
”Can we join too? There’s much to learn from human cuisine.”
Gaugaruga and the others were still around, huh? They look like they could eat a lot more.
”Alright, what’s the price?”
Uno was taking charge like it was her own. Not that I mind.
”What’s yours is mine. We’re married, after all.”
Ah, this guy’s planning to eat everything. I was thinking of saving some in the magic bag if there were leftovers.
* * *
The meal was pot-au-feu with gyoza and smoked sausages. Plus, a bit of Sar-Sar’s mischievous gyoza smoked too.
”Surprisingly tasty, this smoked gyoza.”
”Ehehe.”
Sar-Sar has a talent for cooking. It’s different from the path I aim for, filled with healing and love for close ones… home cooking?
Gaugaruga and the others showed confusion at the gyoza, but after taking a bite, they seemed relieved.
”So it’s made from rice flour.”
Probably like El, they have a wall barley allergy.
”You know about rice?”
”It’s a grain that grows in hot regions. I didn’t know humans ate it.”
Rice or something close to it. Maybe long-grain? I’d like to try it once.
”Fish sauce is a seasoning that comes from the south. You used it as a secret ingredient in many dishes.”
It’s not fish sauce, it’s soy sauce, though.
I’m glad I used wall barley-free soy sauce for El. I almost got mistaken for poisoning them.
”You have a sharp palate.”
”The aroma of fish sauce is divisive. Once you get used to it, it’s addictive. But I thought humans wouldn’t like it, so I didn’t use it this time.”
I wonder if there’ll be another match? I hope so.
If the gods think it’s more interesting than killing each other, it’ll probably work out somehow.
If we could somehow bring about a ceasefire like this. The Totoana Empire is the only one getting the short end of the stick, but let’s call it a noble sacrifice for peace.
When the people cleared out, I brought out a barrel of sake for Uno.
”This is it. Today’s dishes are all perfect for pairing with alcohol.”
Since wall barley whiskey seems to be a no-go, it’s wine for El and the goblins.
Gaugaruga’s subordinates had a terrible drinking habit, getting completely plastered in no time.
Me and Gaugaruga talked all night about soy sauce. The goblin chef’s mind was a treasure trove of unfamiliar knowledge.
Was he so generous with his teachings because it was a fair exchange for the information we showed him? Or was it because he sensed his own death?
Later, I heard that Gaugaruga took all the blame upon himself and was executed by the Demon King.
They say it was a magnificent way to die.
Notes:
• Gaugaruga – Servant of the Demon King, wise goblin, salt peddler, healer—and the greatest boar cook. Appeared on v6c105.
• Exceneca – Lady Uno’s butler girl
• Tizzy – Claims to be Duke’s daughter, a noble with advanced magic skills. MC and Ms. Shirakaba lover.
• Nina – Doll Princess (Auroora 217), renamed by the protagonist. Beautiful blonde, ~168 cm, slim waist. Wears adventurer attire. Made from artificial parts and wooden limbs, resembling a princess. Knowledgeable, can read, write, and use basic healing magic. Reliable partner, often saves the protagonist with her skills.
• Shirakaba – A paladin who seems to be a skilled fighter. He’s introduced as someone with a strong defense and healing abilities.
• Ms. Ant – Level 20 ant soldier, over 2 meters tall in armor. Named by the protagonist due to lack of a previous name. Wields a huge battle axe, large round shield, and throwing axes. Seasoned warrior capable of taking down sub-dragons. Ms. Hóa’s prized secret treasure. Borrowed by the protagonist as a trial during his time in the royal capital
• El – She is a giant woman, appeared as Saburou’s captor, living alone in a large tent, skilled in hunting and cooking, proposes marriage to Saburou.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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