Three Cans Too Many
"Not bad."
I scooped up a bit of curry with the spatula and tasted it. The distinctive curry aroma came through, along with a sweetness that was actually pretty decent. It was my first time cooking in bulk, so I'd been worried about how it would turn out — but then again, curry is one of those dishes that's hard to mess up.
Now all that was left was the canned coffee. The problem was, the recipe didn't say how much to add. I was supposed to be teaching them this, but how much was I even supposed to put in?
Hmm.
I cracked open a can, took a sip, and dumped the rest in. I gave it a stir with the ladle, but the color didn't change at all. One can probably wouldn't do much for the flavor, so I added two more. The curry darkened to a richer shade. That ought to do it.
The rice cookers had come from Dusick's house, plus every Main who owned one of their own. I'd told them all to bring theirs over. Seven rice cookers going at once made for quite a spectacle. Since I, the boss, was doing the cooking myself, Dusick and Sohee had naturally fallen into the rhythm of scooping rice from each cooker for the Mains.
Good. This was how it should be. Just because you were in charge didn't mean you got to sit around. You had to lead by example — get out in front and show them. That was how the people under you learned to trust you and follow.
"Dusick. Sohee."
"Yes!"
"Bring the rice over here. I'll ladle the curry."
"We can do that ourselves..."
The Mains were sitting in a ring around the living room while I bustled around the kitchen alone, and Dusick and Sohee clearly weren't happy about it.
"It's fine. Sometimes it's like this. It's not even a big organization — all told, we're talking about twenty people. A small company runs on the strength of its employees. Got it?"
Not that they'd understand. I was probably the only one here who'd ever lived through that.
At any rate, I poured a generous helping of curry over every bowl of rice as they stacked up on the table. Dusick and Sohee diligently ferried the steaming curry rice out and set it down in front of each seated Main. I also scooped rice into a bowl for our little yellow prisoner, cutting the meat and carrots and potatoes into small pieces so that Kabe and Bethel could eat more easily.
I had to bring my kids their food myself.
The two of them sat at the children's table, staring at the bowls in front of them with their mouths hanging open. The smell must have been pretty good.
Everything was ready. The seat of honor — mine — was still empty, with Dusick and Sohee sitting to the right and left of it. I hadn't sat down yet. I stood there and looked over the Mains, one by one.
When I first arrived, there had been twenty-seven of them. That number had now dropped by ten. Keru had said they would come back if I summoned them again — but whether the ones who had been destroyed would return as themselves, or whether entirely new Mains would appear in their place, even Keru didn't know.
Which meant that the Mains who would remember this moment were only the children sitting here right now.
They were pseudo-lifeforms molded from magic, yes. But they were alive. They breathed. Each of them had wants and needs of their own. My children, who trusted me and followed me, who called me Mother and offered me a loyalty that never wavered. I had a duty to repay them in equal measure to the weight of that loyalty I received.
"You're all hungry, so I won't make a long speech. You've all worked hard, and I hope you'll continue to follow the command of myself, Sohee, and Dusick here. That's all. Let's eat."
"Thank you for the meal!"
I sat down at last and decided to eat. I mixed the sloppy curry through the rice with a few good stirs and took a bite...
Why did this taste like this.
Huh?
No, wait. Why did this actually taste like this.
When I'd tasted it after finishing, it hadn't been amazing, but it had definitely been decent. Now that I was eating it properly, it was nothing but overwhelming sweetness — the kind of sweet you got from dumping in a bag of sugar — plus some musty smell that wasn't even caramel.
"Unni, did you... put coffee in this...?"
"Huh? Yeah, I put some in..."
"How many, exactly...?"
Dusick was whispering right against my ear, and the words how many struck me as a little odd.
"Well, three cans..."
"What?! U-Unni, you didn't—"
Dusick nearly shouted, then flinched and clapped a hand over her mouth. Not that it mattered. The realization that I had well and truly messed up slammed into my skull like a brick.
"Unni, that... when they say to put coffee in curry, it's about half a spoonful of instant coffee mix per ten servings..."
"What? Seriously?"
So for twenty servings, one packet of coffee mix would have been enough? And I had dumped in three entire cans?
Now that I was paying attention, the Mains around us all had terrible looks on their faces. The ones off in the corner had played a round of rock-paper-scissors, and the loser was getting more than half the rice from someone else's bowl dumped into theirs.
"Ulp."
A sound like morning sickness made me look over. It was Sohee. Her face was pale on a good day, and now it had gone even whiter. She'd stuffed her cheeks so full of rice they were puffed out like a chipmunk's, then tried to swallow and gotten it stuck in her throat. She was washing it down with cola when her eyes locked onto mine.
"Ah, Unni. It is truly delicious. A flavor unmatched under all the heavens."
Who does she think she's kidding.
"Mama, it's weally yummy."
Kabe was beaming at me, bright as anything. Maybe the sweetness actually worked for a kid's palate...?
Either way, this was not a taste fit for human consumption. I had made it myself, and even I had to admit this was going too far.
"Sohee."
"Yes, Unni."
"Collect all the kids' bowls. Dusick, order jajangmyeon. One for every four people, and sweet-and-sour pork to go with it."
"But Unni, it seems like such a waste. We should still eat it..."
"If it tastes bad to us, it tastes bad to the kids. We can't feed them this."
The ingredients and the time we'd spent were a shame, but it couldn't be helped. You couldn't put something like this in front of people and call it food. Better to make it again later. Serving this was nothing short of torture by cuisine.
"Hurry up. The kids are hungry."
It had been enough rice for twenty people, so it filled an entire garbage bag. Adding the leftover extra curry on top of that packed it to the brim. What a waste.
I went back to the recipe site and read it carefully this time. It really was there. Coffee made it tastier, but you were only supposed to add a little — about half a packet of instant coffee mix was perfect for ten servings. Saying anything now would just make it obvious I hadn't read the instructions, so I kept my mouth shut.
Before long the jajangmyeon, jjamppong, sweet-and-sour pork, and the rest of it arrived, and we managed to put together a somewhat late lunch.
"Unni, here's your coffee."
"Yeah. Thanks."
After the meal, the Mains each mixed themselves a cup of coffee and started settling back around our living room. That was about when it happened.
"Mama."
"Hmm?"
It was Kabe calling me, but there was a wetness in her voice that made me look over right away. She was standing in front of me with tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'm sorry..."
"Huh? Kabe, for what? Did you do something wrong to Mama? What's the matter?"
"Hic, Mama... huu... I'm sorry... hic..."
And then she burst into tears, a full-throated wail. Kabe's sudden crying froze the living room atmosphere solid. I set down the coffee cup in my hand and hurriedly scooped her up onto my lap.
She was crying so bitterly — fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she sobbed her heart out — and I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I was completely at a loss.
"Fwactually, I, hic, told Mama, sniff, a lie..."
"A lie?"
What? What lie? Nothing came to mind at all.
"Earlier, the, the curry..."
"Yeah, what about the curry?"
"It was, hic, it was so yucky..."
...Huh?
"I told Mama it was yummy, huu, I lied... I was bad..."
I did remember Kabe saying the curry was really yummy. So the curry had been terrible, she'd lied and said it was delicious, and now she was crying because she'd lied to me. That was what this was.
"It was, it was weally weally yucky... I said it was yummy, I lied, I'm sorry Mama... I was bad... kihng."
I was wiping the tears from Kabe's eyes, but.
Why do I feel like I'm the one who wants to cry.
"Hey. Don't you dare laugh."
Someone finally couldn't hold it in, and a puff of laughter burst out. Dusick immediately told the Mains to get their faces under control.
But Dusick. I can see you.
You're laughing too.