Spring Cabbage Salad, Radish Namul, and Bibimbap Bliss
Several days later.
"So this is the Trienta Dimension..."
As part of the rare ingredients project, I'd arrived in the Trienta Dimension. A world inhabited by dryads, a race evolved from plants. It was a beautiful dimension thick with lush foliage.
Stepping out from Gate 13, I glanced around. Every building was finished in beautifully grained wood. The fragrance from unknown flowers blooming everywhere soothed my mind and body. Strangely, though, there wasn't a single bug in sight amid all the trees—not even the grasshoppers you'd expect in the underbrush, let alone bees or butterflies. It felt like a space overflowing with fresh flowers yet meticulously landscaped for harmony.
"All confirmed. Have a good trip."
"Thank you."
The staff at the immigration booth was, of course, a dryad. She looked almost human, but the branches, flowers, and leaves sprouting from her body gave her away. The one handling my line resembled a human closely, but the staff on the opposite side was practically a tree. A dryad with vines and branches growing thick like a beard was arguing with a potbellied orc tourist. Lucky I picked the right line. I might've been stuck for over twenty minutes otherwise.
Passing immigration, I emerged into the dimension airport lobby, where all sorts of races dragged their suitcases. The Trienta Dimension was famous as a tourist and resort spot, boasting stunning scenery. These were probably visitors seeking a break from daily life.
This could be dicey. Should I grab a taxi?
Damn. I'd gotten lost at the airport. Being a popular tourist destination, it was pretty big and sprawling. The airport bus left from B Gate, but it was a hassle to go that far, so exiting at C Gate had been a mistake. Who knew B and C Gates were separated by a forest? By now, even heading back to B Gate, the bus would've already left. So, taxi from C Gate it was.
"Hello. Where to?"
"Central Gondola Station, please."
"Not Arieta Coast? Got it. Front seat or back?"
"Front, please."
Trienta Jungle City. The dryad city that developed from the Trienta jungle. Most tourists headed to prettier spots like Arieta Coast or Cyphran Grand Canyon. But for business here, you had to come to Trienta Jungle City. Nearly all dryads in this dimension lived here, making it the commercial hub. The wholesaler I was meeting worked there.
Hope I make it without being late.
…
A short while later, 4 p.m.
"Unfortunately, that's all for today. Could you come back tomorrow?"
"Sure. About what we've discussed so far..."
"Yes. We'll lock it in as is."
Too bad. I thought we'd wrap up today. Dryads keep very short business hours. Officially, they work only while the sun's up. No set commute times—they start when the sun rises and close when it sets. Trienta Jungle City, being deep in the forest, gets dark early. That's why their days are shorter than in other cities. That's why I tried to arrive earlier. If I hadn't taken that wrong turn...
"Tomorrow, huh... Good thing I booked the lodging ahead."
This trip was scheduled for at least three days, visiting multiple wholesalers, so I'd padded it generously. But with today's delay, I'd probably need an extra day or more. Might as well head to the inn and check in.
"Coming here always calms me down."
Phytoncides? I'd heard the compounds from trees relaxed the mind. Most buildings in Trienta Jungle City were carved from ancient, weathered trees. Trienta's wood was as sturdy as reinforced concrete yet easy to work with, making it a favorite building material across dimensions. System Industry handled it as a mainstay product—need I say more?
The beds were uncomfortable, though. They wove straw and covered it with hemp cloth for a plant-based mattress. Fine for golem races used to stone or dryads to wood, but for flesh-and-blood folk, it was a bit rough.
"Time for dinner soon..."
I'd only had a light breakfast and nothing since, so my stomach was growling. It was just past 5:30 now. Inns here only served breakfast, so dinner choices needed some thought.
Trienta means that, right?
I'd been here enough to know a few spots. That'd be tonight's pick.
…
A short while later, I arrived at the restaurant district near Central Gondola Station.
"Pretty empty."
The station itself buzzed with gondola riders, but the nearby eateries were quiet. Makes sense. Most spots targeted tourists, not dryads. That said, dryad-only places existed. The one I wanted was known mainly to locals.
"Around here... Ah, there it is."
Super King Restaurant. A local favorite near the station, recommended by a native ages ago. It looked shabby outside but boasted a surprising 300-year tradition—a historic gem.
"Welcome! Party of how many?"
"Just one."
"Got it. Right this way!"
Ah, as expected. Inside, a cow beastkin staff handled greeting. Dryads stuck to strict hours, so restaurants like this hired other races for part-time help. Not that it affected the taste. If anything, better—dryad servers often didn't get human palates.
"Here's your menu. Ring the bell nearby when ready to order!"
Old-school place—no kiosks, staff took orders directly. With the restaurant half-empty, it'd be quick. As long as I decided fast.
Let's see... Ah, right. Salad. Gotta get one. Trienta salads were so good, the joke was they turned veggie-hating kids into vegetable assassins. Essential order.
"Oh, seasonal menu. One of this."
Spring Cabbage Salad. Soy-marinated spring cabbage, like a fresh namul. One bite, and you felt winter yielding to spring throughout your body. Perfect. One of those.
But salad alone wouldn't fill me, so here...
"Ready to order?"
"One Spring Cabbage Salad, one radish namul... and two bowls of rice, please."
"Yes. Anything else?"
"Oh, drink. Maple sap, please."
"One Spring Cabbage Salad, one radish namul, two bowls of rice, one maple sap. Correct?"
Might be light, but I'd see after eating. This place's strength was speed—order to table in five minutes flat.
"Your order's here. Ring the bell if you need more!"
"Whoa."
Soy-marinated spring cabbage, spicy radish strips. Two bowls of rice in wooden vessels. Irresistible. I sipped the maple sap first. Mild sweetness from the sap, then a grassy, slightly charred bitterness. Ah, whets the appetite.
Not exactly tasty—like cheap booze. But it didn't feel bad going down. They drank it instead of alcohol here, apparently... Guess I was a happy-hour drinker now. Whatever. Just throat refreshment.
Focus on the main event.
Spring cabbage. Winter-grown, spring-eaten. Called bibimbap, but really soy-marinated spring cabbage. Sweetness soaked into the cabbage, yet crisp texture intact. I scooped a small, well-coated piece and popped it in.
Crunch crunch—the texture, sweet juices from the stem...! The nutty soy sweetness blended with the cabbage's own, announcing spring's arrival body and soul! That crunch echoing from jaw to ear was spring approaching. The gentle sweetness on the tongue felt like melting snow and sprouting buds—warmth itself. Good spring cabbage namul bridged the heart's distance without extra seasoning.
"Hard to find ingredients that make 'better than meat' hit so hard."
Meat gives power. Tasty meat turns you into a human power plant. But fresh, delicious veggies seep in subtly, building foundations. Meat's like launching a spaceship—massive thrust in one go. Spring cabbage is farming. Once those seeds spread through you, no more nagging illnesses all year.
In system terms, temporary strength buff versus permanent max HP boost.
"Rice with this... Mm."
Soy made the namul pair perfectly with rice. Cool salad met hot rice in dramatic reconciliation—satisfaction tripled, quadrupled. Rice filled the veggie void completely.
Humans really do run on rice, huh?