Chapter 100 Let’s Liven up the Banquet
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”My stomach can’t handle all this, but honestly—doesn’t food this good make you want to keep it all to yourself?”
”I get what you mean, but with that smile, there’s no way it could taste bad.”
”Yeah, not a shred of doubt left. I was hesitant about eating raw fish, but… wow, this is amazing!”
While complaining to the usual idiots, I kept slicing the tuna. Ichika had made a perfect bowl of vinegared rice, and together we topped it with cucumber and thick red slices of tuna. Watching the old men eat it with glowing faces—it was enough to make me feel happy too.
The tuna bowl wasn’t just raw fish. I’d added some pieces lightly seared over charcoal until the fat on top shimmered blue in the firelight. That touch alone changed the flavor completely, earning praise even from the Youde group. It was like trying the “blue” doneness of steak but with tuna instead. Seeing how cooking methods could stretch flavor in so many ways was pure joy.
Next, I sliced tuna thin as blowfish sashimi, arranged it into petals, and made eleven rose-shaped decorations. I placed them beside Ethelena’s dish. Her face turned red; when I added one more rose, she tapped my shoulder, flustered. That shy look—priceless.
For Yohira and Ichika, I made nine roses each. They pouted a bit when they saw Ethelena had more, but after Dahlia whispered something in their ears, they smiled, suddenly understanding. Cultural differences make rose meanings tricky—but I’d planned it that way.
I grilled thick tuna slices on a wire rack until seared lines appeared, then cut them and set out two dipping sauces—ginger soy and garlic soy. The drinkers swooped in instantly. They shared bites, laughing and grinning. It was obvious the food was good, though I couldn’t help but wish someone—maybe Hinagiku-san—would describe the taste a little better.
Speaking of Hinagiku-san, she seemed to have hit a flavor overload. Wordless, she just kept eating dish after dish. Even the idiots had the sense not to bother her, drifting my way instead with slightly sad faces. Still, they made sure to toss me bites now and then, and I was glad to eat with them.
I cooked another batch of thick tuna, this time on a hot iron plate with butter and olive oil. The Lord took that one. The moment he bit in, he looked ready to shout how good it was—but then slapped his hand over his mouth, afraid the taste might escape. I couldn’t stop my quiet fist pump.
For the kids, I minced tuna with two knives, mixed it with onion, shaped patties, coated them in flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, then deep-fried them—tuna menchi katsu. I warned them it was hot, but they bit right in and yelped. I panicked, but they kept eating anyway, laughing and shouting, “Hot! Hot! Delicious!” When I tried a small one myself, the rich flavor hit me—sweet onion and fishy meat blending perfectly. Maybe I could even make hamburger steaks this way.
Then I tried making normal tuna cutlets instead. Salt, pepper, flour, egg, breadcrumbs, fry. The taste shocked me—so light and tender, nothing like beef or pork, yet with its own deep fat flavor. The crisp coat and soft center fit together perfectly. The kids looked jealous, so I skewered a few pieces into tuna katsu sticks for them. Instant hit.
Next, I made negitoro—minced tuna belly and scrap mixed with onion, topped with an egg yolk. I placed it over fresh vinegared rice for the idiot’s bowl. He started by savoring the plain negitoro and rice, then broke the yolk, drizzled wasabi soy sauce, and kept eating with a satisfied hum.
About that wasabi—I used real root wasabi, washed and grated skin and all. Coarsely done, so tiny bits remained, giving texture and a bright aroma. The heat rushed up the nose but never too sharp. If this world’s wasabi is anything like the real kind, I can see why it’s so prized.
While I was still cooking, I gathered the tuna bones and scraps. In a separate pressure pot from Ethelena’s beef stew, I packed them tight. After an hour and a half of heat and release, it’d make a strong tuna broth. Add vegetables, simmer lightly, then blend red and white miso—one part red to two parts white. The red miso would hide the fishiness, while white would soften the flavor.
Right as I thought that, the timer dinged. I opened the big temporary pot; steam rushed out, carrying the smell of tuna and spice. Normally salt alone would do, but this was the Crafter city ‘Whirlwind,’ where every home had its own special spice blend. With heavy encouragement from the whole Karla family—especially the Acting Head and my Mother-in-law—I used ours to make tuna kabuto-yaki, the roasted head.
Tuna alone already has deep flavor, so adding spices risks ruining it. I kept to blends that wouldn’t overpower—just mild notes from curry-style seasonings, used sparingly to chase away any smell while enhancing the fat’s umami.
When I pulled out the roasted tuna head, the fish’s eyes had turned white and cloudy. The sight was eerie enough to make the kids scream and hide behind the adults. Sunny-chan clung to Tatia’s back, trusting her like a knight’s shield, and Tatia looked pleased. Time to carve it.
For Mother-in-law and my Master (female), I offered the rarest cut—the muscles around the eyes, delicate yet firm, like soft collagen. From what little I remembered in my past life, it was said to be one of the tastiest parts, so I served it to them.
And then, Master took both eyeballs. The others froze at the sight of the fist-sized globes, but she simply smiled, murmuring, “To not understand this taste—you’re still a child.” The way she said it left an impression. The fluid inside really was delicious, but yeah—probably best not to eat that in front of the kids if I didn’t want more screams.
Since I’d been cooking non-stop, they gave me one full cheek of the tuna as a reward. I loved cheek meat even in my past life, so I couldn’t help a little fist pump. The others shared the meat from the other side. Surprisingly, Mother-in-law preferred the miso-rich part. I liked crab and shrimp miso myself, so her taste struck me as refined. When I murmured that hot sake would go perfectly with it, the Acting Head of Family pulled a bottle of sake from his inventory and immediately started heating it. When I joked he might even try mixing tuna broth into it, his eyes gleamed—and I felt real fear.
”By the way, Tatara-san, do you have a magic tool that can heat sake automatically?”
”I could make one,” I said, “but if it needs a temperature control system, it’ll take at least ten minutes—and then no one will be cutting the tuna.”
”I’ll take over,” the Acting Head said. “I’ll buy it at any price. Please, make it.”
He was dead serious. Well, heating alcohol without letting it evaporate does need some precise spellwork. I pulled out a mithril ingot, activated my Crafting skill, and shaped it into a pot that could hold about four cups of sake. I added a small dial to adjust the Spell Formula, allowing six temperature steps from 30 to 55 degrees Celsius. The device worked by speeding molecular motion and stopping it at each level. Checking the heat rise with Appraisal, I tuned it carefully until it could make everything from warm hinata-kan to piping hot tobikiri-kan sake. Maybe this could even be used for baby milk someday.
”Tatara,” Kasumi said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “are you seriously inventing a new product while cooking?”
The City Mayor leaned over. “Wait—this is a magic device just to heat alcohol? That’s… extravagant.”
”Not exactly,” I said. “If made for home use, it could warm milk for babies. For Alchemists, it could keep potions at specific temperatures for experiments too.”
”Then send me a report and design blueprint later,” she said. “We’ll test it as a new project and record how it performs.”
”Gladly.”
Unless the device changed potion effects through Mana interference, it’d be incredibly useful. I’d set the temperature steps in 5-degree intervals, but a high-end version could adjust to hundredths of a degree for lab work—and that would sell.
”…Kasumi, is Tatara-dono always like this?” someone asked.
”Honestly,” she sighed, “I’ve only seen his blacksmithing before, but I didn’t expect him to craft magic tools this fast—especially while tipsy. How can he think so clearly with alcohol in his system?”
I wasn’t that drunk, though. I’d spent most of the time slicing tuna and hardly touched my drink. My mind was clear. Honestly, I was pacing myself—because if I got drunk, I’d probably drag Ethelena to my room.
Ethelena, by the way, was weak with alcohol. She was sitting beside me now, eyes closed, leaning against my shoulder. If I moved too far away, she’d start crying and follow me. Come to think of it, she and Ichika shared a few habits like that.
Anyway, next was cooking the dark red blood meat. The cold storage aging had brought out its fishy smell, so I decided to steam it with good sake that the Acting Head had brought. Normally, I’d soak it for hours to draw out the blood, but there wasn’t time. So I added grated ginger and steamed it gently to mask the scent. Once it was cooked, I made a glaze with soy sauce, mirin, and sugar—close to teriyaki sauce. It was meant to hide the fishiness, but it worked even better than expected. The women loved it, especially Nina-chan, who’d been prone to anemia from avoiding iron-rich foods. She looked delighted, saying the flavor was gentle and comforting. Maybe next time I’ll teach her how to make liver stir-fry—if she can eat organ meats, she might feel a lot better.
”Hey, Tatara,” someone called.
”Yeah? What’s up?”
The idiot again. What now?
”I want something light. My mouth’s kinda greasy from all the fat.”
”I see… maybe chazuke, then.”
I’d already used the bones for broth, so I couldn’t make bone-broth chazuke, but simple tea over rice would do fine.
”Acting Head of Family,” I called.
”Tatara-dono, tonight’s no formalities. Call me Father-in-law!”
”Sorry to interrupt your drinking, but do you have any green tea or roasted tea with you?”
”I do,” Mother-in-law said kindly. “Please use mine.”
”Thank you, Mother-in-law.”
”Tatara-dono! Say it—call me Father-in-law!!”
”Dear, if you’re drunk, it’s time to rest. Yohira, help me.”
”Got it. Come on, Father, let’s drink some water over there, okay?”
Dragged away by Yohira and Mother-in-law, the Acting Head was forced to retreat. Funny—he’d once lectured me about how to address him, and now he begged for it.
Anyway, Ichika scooped fresh rice from the pot. I grilled tuna slices with the skin on until crisp, laid them over rice sprinkled with sesame seeds, and poured hot tea on top. I used green tea for the idiot and roasted tea for myself. But before I could take a bite, Hinagiku-san snatched mine away. Whatever. Let them enjoy it together.
”Ha! You got your own chazuke stolen—funny guy!” the idiot laughed.
Annoying bastard. I ignored him and used the leftover vinegared rice, tuna, and Ichika’s shredded egg to make tuna chirashi-zushi for the Karla family instead. They tried to stop me, but I didn’t care—like insect noise in the background.
”Tatara-dono, are you eating enough?” Tatia asked, stepping close. Her face showed quiet worry.
”I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve been nibbling between cooking. Thanks for checking.”
The idiot who’d been feeding me earlier was now sitting beside Hinagiku-san, both silently slurping chazuke. Neither spoke, too absorbed in eating. I sighed. If nothing comes from that, then my chazuke died for nothing.
Well, Ethelena’s beef stew would be ready soon. Even if I missed out on tuna, my heart and stomach would still be saved.
”Um,” Tatia said softly, “it may be forward of me, but… would you like a bite?”
She held out a fork with a piece of glossy tuna teriyaki. Honestly, I’d wanted to taste it, so I was grateful.
”Oh, thanks. Is that okay?”
”Y-yes. I offered, so it’s fine. Now then… um… a-ah, say ‘ahh.’”
Oh great, what are they teaching our knight now? When I glanced over, Rachel-san was giving me a thumbs-up and a raised fist. Of course she was. I couldn’t let Tatia embarrass herself—her face was already burning red—so I gave in and opened my mouth. Since she’d gone with “ahh,” I matched her tone. “Ahh,” I said, and took the bite of teriyaki.
The moment it hit my tongue, the tuna’s deep flavor mixed with the sharp bite of ginger and the soft, fruity note of good sake. Then came the sweet mirin and salty soy sauce, wrapping everything together. Honestly, it was far better than I’d imagined. The ingredients were too perfect; I doubted I could ever reproduce this again. Ichika quickly handed me a small salted rice ball. I bit in, and the plain white rice met the leftover teriyaki flavor in my mouth, making something new and warm bloom inside. Even the scent alone made me crave more, and before I realized it, the rice ball was gone.
”Heh, impressive appetite, Tatara-dono,” Tatia said with a small laugh.
”I was hungrier than I thought,” I admitted, “and it was too good to stop.”
”Everything you made is even better than I imagined,” she said softly. “Thank you, my… wind.”
Her last words came quieter, the same name she’d used for me last night. I didn’t ask what she meant. I felt that if I did, something precious might slip away.
Time passed, but the mountain of tuna barely shrank. The oni and youkai were eating like beasts—over a hundred kilos gone already—but with around three hundred kilos of edible meat, it still looked endless.
I’d hardly eaten myself, though I could probably manage five kilos before I’d have to stop and digest. The kids, on the other hand, were sprawled on the ground, stuffed and dizzy. They didn’t get meals like this often, so I wanted them to eat plenty, but not push too hard. Maybe tomorrow I’d ask the Maiden’s church for some stomach medicine for them.
The idiot was sipping tea after his chazuke, relaxing. Beside him, Hinagiku-san kept eating nonstop. Ichika watched her with something between pity and disbelief—yeah, like a fattening tengu pig in the making.
Dahlia, done with her serving duties, was quietly eating her own stash of dishes now. Automaton Maidens really could eat; she might’ve out-eaten me. Ethelena swore that no matter how much they ate, their figures wouldn’t change—height aside.
Anna-chan and Nina-chan were resting too, worrying about tomorrow’s weight. I wanted to tell them not to; they were both lighter than healthy already.
Albard-san and Rachel-san were flirting again. Probably not the alcohol—they were always like that. Seeing the idiot keeping his distance confirmed it; get too close and you’d drown in their sweetness.
The City Mayor was talking seriously with Mother-in-law and the Acting Head of Family. Judging by her face, maybe she’d heard some of the things that happened while she stayed at my house. Yeah… I probably did something dumb again. Sorry about that.
Calmys-san, ever the guard, only ate the minimum, though she kept glancing at the tuna with a longing look. Maybe I should prepare a marinated tuna pack for her to take home. There’d still be plenty left anyway.
”Tatara,” came a soft voice, “you look like you’re having fun.”
Ethelena had woken up, still drowsy but smiling.
”Yeah,” I said, smiling back. “It’s fun. Everyone’s eating, laughing, happy… seeing that just makes me feel happy too.”
”Then I’m glad,” she said warmly.
Ethelena always said my happiness was her own. I loved being her center, but part of me felt guilty—like I was tying her down.
While thinking that, I started making marinated tuna—two kinds. One raw, one briefly boiled so the surface cooked just a little. I’d seen the recipe in my past life; it came out like seared tataki, simple but delicious. I wanted to mix the sauce with bonito broth, but this time I used the tuna stock instead. When I opened the pressure cooker, the scent exploded into the air—rich, deep, and almost sweet. My stomach, though full, stirred again.
I borrowed Master’s cup, poured in a bit of broth and warm sake—dashi-wari. When I handed it to her, she gulped it down in one breath, eyes going wide, then smacked my back in excitement. I took a taste myself. The umami was incredible—pure, layered, alive. I set some aside for soup and some as marinade stock, letting the rest cool so it wouldn’t cook the fish on contact. Though… that wouldn’t be a bad thing either.
Once the broth cooled, I made the sauce. Soy sauce, mirin, sake, and dashi—simple, but balance was everything. I followed the order of seasoning: from lightest to strongest. Except… everything was strong.
I used more mirin than sake for sweetness, then added soy sauce until it felt right. Finally, just a bit of dashi to round it out. Even before marinating, it was so good I could’ve poured it over rice and called it dinner. I’d adapted a recipe for Tosa soy sauce, swapping bonito for tuna broth—and it turned out amazing in a different way.
I set the sauce on the stove to boil off the alcohol, skimming the foam that rose from the tuna stock. As it simmered down, the smell deepened into something dark and rich. Then I let it cool slowly, letting the flavors settle together for twenty to thirty minutes while I set up a strainer.
”Tatara,” Ethelena warned gently, “if you’re making something that good for take-home gifts, you might regret it.”
”I know, but the flavor won’t really sink in unless it sits overnight.”
”I think everyone here will eat it before then,” she said, smiling.
I turned around—and saw a crowd already closing in around us. Fast, as always.
”Julon, what’s that?” someone asked.
”Marinated tuna for souvenirs,” he answered cheerfully. “If it sits overnight, the taste will deepen beautifully.”
”I see,” the man said, eyeing it like a predator.
”Ah, wait—Calmys-san, is it because of religion or something?”
”There is no god on this earth who forbids good food.”
”Ah. Right.”
Now that she mentioned it, I remembered how in my previous life, some game texts listed different church doctrines—but none banned eating. The Red Moon Goddess, patron of harvest, taught: “Let life bloom richly, eat richly, and live richly.” The Maiden’s church said something like, “A rich diet guards the heart from sickness; only gluttony is forbidden.” Though in ‘Whirlwind,’ their church leaned on ascetic poverty—probably thanks to that eternally hungry Sister. The war god’s creed was my favorite: “If restraint steals tomorrow’s strength, eat well to keep hope alive.” Yeah, that game had real passion for food.
”Anyway,” I said, “this goes with rice. It’s marinated tuna—not meant for bread or pasta, so be warned.”
Julon chuckled. “Heh, are you trying to tempt me into sin?”
”What? Why!?”
If they really wanted perfect white rice, I could make them a magic rice cooker. But since this city didn’t trade in Youde rice, they couldn’t enjoy it quite the same. Zuke-don—marinated tuna over hot rice—was amazing only if the rice itself was perfect. Speaking of which, I still hadn’t modified the magic rice cooker Mother-in-law asked for. I’d meant to after she brought me the pot… but things got busy.
”Tatara-dono,” the Acting Head said with a teasing grin, “you seem to have thought of something. Go on—teacher won’t get mad.”
”You’ve used that line before, haven’t you?” I said. “You really like it.”
Yeah, I remembered now—he’d said the same thing during our second meeting, the one Ichika later called a ‘death flag.’ It hadn’t even been a month since then, yet it felt like ages ago. The world kept spinning fast.
”I didn’t think of something new,” I said, “just remembered—Mother-in-law asked me to modify her rice cooker into a magic one.”
”Kasumi,” the Acting Head turned, “was that why you told me to bring the house’s rice pot?”
Mother-in-law averted her gaze, trying to hide her guilt. So she hadn’t explained it properly, huh? And yep—he really did bring the pot, just because she told him to.
”Well, since it’s here, I’ll modify it,” I said.
”Hmm. But weren’t you still cutting tuna?”
”That’s about done. The outside air will start spoiling it soon, so I’ll switch to this next batch of dishes.”
I planned to make carpaccio and ajillo next—both went perfectly with sake, so the drinkers would love them.
”I’ve got recipes for those,” Ethelena said brightly. “Let me help!”
”So do I!” Nina-chan chimed in. “I’ll help Tatara-kun too!”
Both smiled, then immediately glared at each other. Why?
”I’m Tatara’s wife,” Ethelena said sweetly. “Guests shouldn’t have to work, so it’s fine.”
”I’ll have you know I’m a farmer’s daughter,” Nina shot back. “People love my homemade lunches!”
While the air between them crackled, I turned to Ichika. She sighed, shook her head, and quietly took my place at the cooking station. Sorry, girls—when you start arguing, it’s hard to rely on either of you.
I got to work on the rice cooker. The Acting Head pulled the pot from his inventory. It wasn’t steel but mithril dusted with ash, making Mana transmission extremely efficient—and trickier to balance. I adapted the design from Master’s pot but left the Spell Formula blank so the user could customize their own rice texture. After explaining the inscription details, I handed it to Mother-in-law.
”Tatara-dono,” the Acting Head asked, “why make something no one in this city even uses?”
”I made it after getting rice shipments,” I said. “I asked Ichika to show me her method, and I thought—if I can make fresh rice easier, it’ll help families, especially mothers, just a little.”
”You’re too good for this world,” he said, half in awe, half in fondness.
I really just wanted everyone to eat well. Sharing that kind of tech meant any household could save time and effort. After about ten minutes of focused work, the Torakuma family’s magic rice cooker was complete.
”You’ll need to set your preferred cooking style,” I told them.
”Of course,” Mother-in-law said. “We’ll use it well at the Torakuma estate.”
Just as we were about to close the deal, the City Mayor stepped forward.
”Sorry,” she said sharply, “but I haven’t approved the sale or replication rights for that Magic Device.”
Mother-in-law frowned slightly. Ah, so she was planning to reverse-engineer and sell it domestically.
”If you want to spread it for public benefit,” the Mayor continued, “then pay the proper patent fees first. This child may not realize it, but both the Spell Formula and design are under his patents.”
”…You’re right,” Mother-in-law sighed. “For Tatara-san’s sake, we’ll do this properly.”
She promised to meet the Mayor later to discuss terms. I wished they wouldn’t clash too much—they were both dear to me, and it hurt to see tension between them.
”And another thing, Tatara,” the Mayor added, fixing me with a sharp look, “just because you own a teleportation gate doesn’t mean you can link it wherever you please.”
”Ah, uh…”
”Why,” she said coolly, “did you install one at Dahlia-san’s family estate without asking me first?“
Ah, crap. Totally forgot about that.
Notes:
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Sunny – Cheerful, artistic young girl under Rachel’s care. Bonds with Mother-in-law through drawing; admired by Tatia as symbol of the town’s hopeful future.
• Nina – A female companion who joins Ethelena in whispered remarks, questioning the Mayor’s personal life.
• Rachel – Female character agreeing with Albert’s praise of Tatara’s father. Happy to join Tatara’s close-knit group. Sunny’s mother—grateful guest, financially struggling but resilient.
• Anna – Shy, warm-hearted female researcher in magical medicine. Gratefully benefits from Tatara’s hospitality and investment, indirectly aiding Rachel financially.
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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