Chapter 8
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Devil's Hand Appears in the Sea (3)
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Kallon, who'd roamed the continent as a rough-and-tumble mercenary and placed unshakeable trust in Dominic's cooking, smacked his lips with a "Yeah? Sounds tasty?" But Ian the knight furrowed his brow, his disapproval plain as day.
Still, stopping Dominic—who was already locked into "Tonight's dinner is piping hot seaweed soup!" mode—seemed like a lost cause. Even so, Ian resolved to make one last attempt.
"No matter how you slice it, using that awful seagrass as food? There's no need to go that far."
"Sigh—."
At Ian's words, Dominic let out a sigh as if he'd been waiting for it.
"Of course. How could a noble knight like you, raised so delicately, stomach this lowly seagrass that only commoners eat? I didn't think of that. We should've slaughtered a lamb or a calf, grilled up a steak, and smothered it in spices. Oh dear! Evergreen's such a poor little village, we have nothing to offer but this worthless seagrass."
"No, you don't have to go that far...!"
Ian visibly panicked at Dominic's words, floundering for a response.
'He's always nitpicking, so I need to shut him up for good with the ingredients this time. That'll make things easier down the line.'
That was the reason for his sudden aggressive push.
No one knew how long the Old Lord's closed-door training would last. Until then, they had to coexist under the Lord's orders, like it or not. If he kept griping about ingredients every meal, it'd be a real hassle.
So the plan was to cow him into silence, never daring to question again.
'For a knight, he seems pretty decent to commoners.'
In a world where many knights treated peasants like bugs,
Ian was proud and inflexible, sure—but he didn't outright discriminate against them.
You could tell just from how he acknowledged the head cook's position or used honorifics with Uncle Kallon.
"...That was spoken in error. I apologize."
As Dominic figured, Ian quickly owned up to his mistake and lowered his eyes.
"Good. Since you apologized so promptly, I'll share some food with you this time—as a special treat."
"No, really, there's no need to..."
Ian waved it off, insisting it wasn't necessary, but Dominic ignored him cleanly and headed to his kitchen.
Dominic's cooking space on the village outskirts had actually been built by the Fishing Cooperative. With a dozen able-bodied men to feed, a regular home kitchen just wouldn't cut it—so at Dominic's protests, everyone in the village pitched in to construct it.
No fancy interior design, but the lighting was great, ventilation solid, and best of all, it had a spacious yard and a large storeroom. Dominic was quite satisfied.
"For a village kitchen, it's remarkably well-organized."
"Of course it is. Who do you think uses it?"
Even Ian, surveying the place, was genuinely impressed.
"I thought I left it here... Ah, there it is!"
Uncle Kallon headed to the backyard, then reappeared scratching his head with an awkward grin.
"Dominic, what do we do about this?"
"Something wrong?"
"Stored it poorly, and it ended up like this. Haha!"
Kallon chuckled sheepishly and held out a sack.
Inside were seaweed flakes, dried crisp by the sea breeze and crumbled every which way.
"Let me see... Hmm! Nice and dry. Would've been perfect with a bit more salting, but no big deal. We're seasoning fresh anyway."
"Huh? It's fine?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's all brittle and broken."
"We use it fresh too, but drying it on purpose is a thing."
"Really?"
"Yep. Actually makes it better."
Some things got even more umami when dried.
Mushrooms, fish, sea vegetables—all of them.
"Mm~ mm~"
Since realizing his reincarnation, he'd cooked plenty of dishes from his past life, but seaweed soup was a first.
'No beef, huh. Let's see.'
With his light wallet, he couldn't stockpile beef, so alternatives were key.
'Perilla powder would make a nice twist, but no way that's here. Ah! Right, this'll do!'
Rummaging through the storeroom, Dominic beamed and pulled out a couple bundles of dried mussels from a corner.
"Mussel meat?"
"Yep. Cleaned and dried mussels. This way, they keep forever. Picked the plump fall ones, so they'll be delicious for sure."
Dominic swallowed, already tasting it in his mind, and rolled up his sleeves for real.
Whoosh—.
He generously coated a blazing-hot iron pot with freshly pressed perilla oil, tossed in the dried mussels, pre-soaked seaweed, and minced garlic, then stir-fried. A sound like crashing waves or pattering rain filled the kitchen.
At the same time, the nutty aroma of perilla oil assaulted everyone's noses.
'What is this?'
Ian flinched at the unfamiliar scent, instinctively craning his neck to sniff—then caught himself and straightened up.
Dominic caught Ian's glance from the corner of his eye, smirked triumphantly, and added a splash of soy sauce to season.
'Soy sauce, perilla oil—all that trial and error to make them from scratch. But seeing them put to such good use? Totally worth it.'
How much struggle had it taken to produce essentials like gochujang, gochugaru, doenjang, soy sauce, perilla oil, sesame oil?
It had been a tearful battle, but with the village hooked on spicy flavors pitching in, things got easier from last year.
'Not much rice left...'
Wheat was the staple here. Rice was available but three times pricier, so Dominic usually rationed it.
But since he was going all out with the hospitality, might as well do it right. Look at Ian—pretending disinterest while sneaking peeks at the stove nonstop. A far cry from his earlier griping about "ominous seagrass."
He rinsed the rice thoroughly, set it to steam in a pot on one burner, and poured the rinse water into the big pot with the stir-fried seaweed and mussels.
"Ah!"
Ian's face went pale.
"What in the world is this?"
Then it flushed red in an instant. He looked furious, paling and reddening all on his own.
"What do you mean, 'what'?"
"You make it look edible, then dump wastewater from washing food into it? You're cooking for the villagers, yet you've been preparing meals this filthily all along...!"
"Wastewater? Rice rinse water's the secret to the soup!"
"What? Trying to weasel out with nonsense like that? No chance!"
"Didn't you see me toss the first two rinses because they might have dirt?"
"W-Well...!"
That was exactly where Ian had gotten flustered.
Dominic had dumped the first couple rinses fine, but then saved the third and fourth—still milky—and added them to the stew? What madness?
"Rice rinse water has starches, lipids, B1, B2 vitamins dissolved in it that harmonize the flavors. And it cuts the fishiness of seafood, kills any astringency too. Quit badmouthing what you don't understand."
"...Is that true?"
"You gonna fall for everything?"
Dominic threw in some words Ian didn't know. But with that confidence, it couldn't be made up.
Sure enough, as the clear broth came to a boil, a nutty aroma spread everywhere.
He couldn't imagine the taste, but his nose screamed, "This has to be delicious!"
After that, with Dominic blatantly hinting, Ian got shoved to a kitchen corner, left smacking his lips.
Meanwhile, platters piled up on the table.
"Lucky I had some side veggie dishes left. Kimchi's short for me too, so skip it. Egg fried rice—sunny side up!"
"Hey, Dominic! Fried up a fish for ya, haha!"
Perfect timing—Uncle Kallon brought three plump red fish, grilled to perfection.
"Where'd you run off to? Thanks!"
"No biggie. You make that rice I always mooch, might as well. Can't eat on an empty stomach."
"Knew you got it. Unlike some who gripe even with free food."
"...My apologies."
"Rice is done. Hurry up and dig in."
Not fancy, but hearty.
"Give it a try. It's seriously good."
Ian hesitated at the black, slimy seaweed in his soup bowl. But the scent won out—a salty, deep, nutty aroma like the sea itself, tempting the blond knight to taste.
Slurp—.
"...!"
Ian's eyes flew wide at his cautious first sip.
The black seaweed slipped down without chewing, defying its sinister look. The rich broth melted away the fatigue from constant vigilance, leaving his body languid and soothed.
The dried mussel meat—chewy, adding texture—paired with garlic's savoriness, cleaning up the finish.
Perfection in a soup.
Clink.
Ian instinctively scooped steaming rice into his stew.
Unfamiliar grain, but its glossy, springy grains whetted the appetite.
Mixed in, each grain soaked up broth.
Now Ian was straight-up drinking from the bowl.
"See? Why not trust me? Told you it'd be good."
"...My knowledge was limited. I must concede."
Finally, the KO.