Merino Ulla, the Chef from Orbisland
Orbisland. A world whose name alone evoked idyllic pastoral scenes. But beneath that serene name lurked a deep, dark shadow. In truth, it was nothing less than a massive laboratory where all lifeforms—save for the ruling species—were subjected to experiments and modifications.
The race that dominated this world was called the Alchemists. They were a species characterized by translucent skin through which their internal organs and veins faintly shimmered. Far beyond mere scientists or mages, they possessed mystical abilities unrivaled in reconstructing and transforming life itself.
Over thousands of years, the Alchemists had honed their arts of modification and refinement. In that process, they created and destroyed countless races and creatures, repeating the cycle endlessly. To them, life was merely experimental material, and the very concept of ethics had never existed.
And sheep beastkin like Merino Ulla were among their greatest masterpieces. Grinding their horns produced a powder that could make anything edible, while their wool infused flavors like a seasoning. Beyond that, they had no other abilities. Their combat prowess was deliberately underdeveloped, engineered to be fragile to prevent any rebellion.
In any case, like most other races excluding the Alchemists, the sheep beastkin of Orbisland held the status of livestock. They weren't respected as living beings but treated as precious yet simple resources to alleviate the Alchemists' food shortages.
Merino placed her hand on her horn. The moment she applied pressure—
Crack! With a light, crisp sound, the tip of the horn broke off cleanly. The cut surface was smooth and pristine.
"Grinding my horn makes powder fall off, yang. And this powder makes anything edible, yang!"
Merino pressed the broken horn tip against a stone she'd picked up and began rubbing.
"The powder's on the stone now, yang. Just wait a bit..."
Sizzle— Suddenly, the powder scattered, blue smoke billowing up. The rising smoke quickly sank, enveloping the stone before being sucked right inside.
"Now it's edible, yang! Once all the blue smoke absorbs, it's totally safe to eat, yang!"
Merino beamed proudly and held the stone out to me. Then, just as abruptly, she snatched it back to her chest.
"Ah! But don't eat it yet, yang! It might be edible now, but it'd taste awful plain, yang!"
She plucked a tiny bit of the fluffy new wool growing on her shoulders.
"This is the key part, yang! Absorbing my wool adds a delicious flavor, yang!"
Merino rubbed the wool onto the stone next. Just like before, it turned to smoke—red this time—and vanished inside.
"I can replicate any flavor I've tasted, yang. This one's curry, yang!"
She offered the stone again. It looked unchanged, still dull gray despite the "curry" claim.
"Try it, yang!"
"......"
I hesitated. Then the centaur watching beside me stepped forward and took the stone.
[Explorer, I'll try it first. Just in case it's dangerous.]
"...Fine. Spit it out if anything feels off."
[Understood.]
The centaur steeled her expression and boldly popped the stone into her mouth.
Crunch. Crunch crunch.
She chewed vigorously.
[Mm...!?]
Her eyes widened in shock.
[This is...]
Her hands trembled. Then she raised both arms high and shouted.
[Mating... no, delicious!!!]
[I can't believe it! This stone is actually delicious! How can a rock taste like this?!]
The centaur raved that the stone tasted heavenly, even begging Merino for another. It didn't seem like a lie—she had no reason to deceive me.
So it really was delicious... I turned back to Merino.
"Hwehng."
"...Gimme one too."
"Got it, yang!"
Crunch. Crunch crunch.
I chewed the stone Merino made. It felt like eating curry-flavored crackers. Not addictive, but as the centaur said, easily in my top ten tastiest foods ever.
"It's seriously good."
"Omnomnom. Tasty, yang."
Merino munched her own stone, gazing at me contentedly. She seemed thrilled I liked it.
"Probably because the horn and wool have separate abilities that don't trigger danger detection. Removing them leaves her basically a normal person."
For some reason, her horns and wool weren't treated as connected body parts.
"Still F-grade, even with these abilities. They're mysterious and busted, but she's so fragile a flick would kill her. Ppururu could beat her easy."
Truthfully, her grade was ambiguous, so that's how I answered. Unlike healing abilities with endless combat utility, I'd never heard or seen anything like this, so gauging her rank was impossible. Unlike detectable healing, my instincts couldn't measure it.
"But Merino, no side effects from eating this, right?"
"None, yang!"
"Nutritionally fine?"
"Super nutritious, yang!"
"Good. What happens if you use up all your horns?"
"They regrow endlessly, yang. As long as you don't rip 'em all off, yang."
She added that she could use the ability permanently if not fully removed at once.
"Fully ripping them off stops regrowth, huh."
"Yeah, yang. Accidents like that mean immediate disposal, yang!"
"...Disposal?"
"Yang."
I needed more details.
I learned the origins of Merino Ulla's abilities. In summary:
Sheep beastkin like her were livestock on Orbisland. Horns that made anything edible and served as antidotes. Wool like flavoring seasonings. All engineered by their Alchemist rulers.
In other words, Merino wasn't a naturally evolved species but an artificial one created to fulfill a race's desires.
'The horns and wool are modified parts, not fully nerve-connected, so no threat detection...'
Further details revealed the sheep beastkin felt no aversion to livestock life. Even this Merino:
"Merino, do you wanna go back to your home world?"
"Yes, yang! Lots of folks waiting for my food, yang!"
She was deeply satisfied. Probably brainwashed from birth. They roamed freely in pastures, so she thought it was freedom.
As I stared at her conflicted, she looked up expectantly.
"Can I go back, yang?"
"......"
I pondered. Not long, though. A chef would be handy. Keep her for now—sending her back didn't sit right, no matter how content she claimed to be.
"Merino. Wanna make a deal... er, contract?"
"Deal, yang? What kind, yang?"
"I can send you home. But nothing's free."
"Right, yang! No free lunch, yang!"
"Smart. So, cook for us a set period, and I'll send you back as payment."
"Deal, yang! How long, yang?"
One year? Two? I decided.
"Until I become the labyrinth's dominator."
If, when that happens, she hasn't found happiness with us—if Orbisland still feels better and she wants to go—I'll respect it.
Though I doubt it. She'd prefer here. Orbisland meant constant beatings, fear of disposal, endless abuse. Compared to peaceful life here, she'd realize livestock life was abnormal eventually.
(I didn't consider failing to become dominator.)
"How long to become dominator, yang?"
"Dunno exactly. I'll tell you when."
"Hwehng."
Thus, I gained an exclusive chef.