Grilled Spanish Mackerel Served to the Mermaid Princess, with a Side of Fried Squid
Grilled Spanish Mackerel Served to the Mermaid Princess, with a Side of Fried Squid
Far below the waves, in the Dragon Palace of the sea, Princess Michelle woke early and began her morning grooming, as she did every day.
"Hmm~."
Her mood was buoyant.
Today was the day.
The day she visited that delicious restaurant on land.
The mere knowledge that she'd soon be eating wonderful food set a hum in her throat.
The guilt still plagued her, of course.
But it no longer brought tears or sorrow the way it had when she'd eaten Sebastian.
He had been her longtime bodyguard and her friend.
This was different.
These were not members of the Dragon Palace household — just nameless fish from faraway waters.
Eating them stirred a faint pang of apology.
But the fullness that followed softened that whisper of sin into something she could bear.
She adjusted her hair ornament, then tucked the meal ticket Lucas had given her into her clothes.
- Here's a meal ticket. The jewel you gave me last time seemed far too valuable, so I'm giving you this.
- Is it waterproof, by any chance?
- Shall I waterproof it for you?
- Yes... my neighborhood has quite a lot of water, you see.
A ticket he had specially crafted with waterproof coating.
She could feel the care he put into every customer.
What will the menu be today?
Watching Lucas reel in fish from the shore and trying to guess what he would make with them had become one of her pleasures.
Watching fish get caught right before her eyes was sad, of course.
I won't let your sacrifice go to waste.
The law of the jungle, the food chain, the order of nature.
Michelle recalled the words her father, the Sea King, had once spoken.
- This dish is made from other fish.
- Mermaids, too, must eat other fish in order to live. It is the way of things.
If it had been her past self, she would have recoiled, horrified.
She might have starved herself for nights on end.
But she was different now.
She understood how precious and noble sacrifice could be.
And she had learned just how delicious — no, how beautiful — it could be.
The thought made her mouth water.
She'd had a lot of spicy stews lately, so she was hoping for something else this time.
That was exactly what she was thinking when —
"Michelle."
Her father's voice. The Sea King.
He swam to a stop before her, his hair a deeper shade of blue than hers, drifting around him as he looked down at his daughter.
"Yes, Father."
"Where are you off to this time?"
"Ha-ha. W-well, you see..."
"I have heard you have been frequenting the coast of late. Is this true?"
Michelle averted her eyes.
She knew all too well that the Sea King did not trust the people of the continent.
"W-well, Father..."
"It would seem it is."
"..."
The Sea King exhaled a sigh and continued.
"Michelle, I have spoken to you of the continent-dwellers before, have I not?"
"Yes. You said they are not to be trusted."
"Indeed. They are the ones who slaughtered our ancestors over the absurd superstition that a mermaid's tears can heal all things."
He stroked her blue hair, his voice gentle as a refrain.
"I do not wish to see my daughter hurt by such humans."
They didn't seem that way...
Michelle's mind drifted to the human she had met on land — Lucas.
True, he had hunted one of her subjects...
But was he a wicked person, the way the Sea King claimed?
He hadn't seemed so.
The jewel she'd offered had taken him aback, but he'd also seemed to have no idea what it was worth.
And when he'd said he'd received far too large a gem and handed her a meal ticket along with an invitation to return anytime — that seemed like the act of a decent person.
At least, that was how he'd been to her.
"So you must never go up onto land. Are you not, like your father, a mermaid who must one day defend against the monsters that dwell in the deep sea?"
"Yes, I understand."
She couldn't bring herself to admit she had already set foot on land.
If she did, a confinement order was absolutely certain.
"I will keep it in mind."
A small lie wouldn't hurt.
"Then I'll be off."
"Very well."
Michelle ducked her head, then swam her beautiful tail out of the Dragon Palace.
She lingered near the shore and watched, dazed, as Lucas sat at his leisure with a fishing rod and reeled in fish after fish.
There was something oddly mesmerizing about him, facing the violent surf with such unhurried calm.
The very act of dropping a fishing line was something mermaids would never do.
It marked him unmistakably as human, and each of those little human actions held her gaze.
With every fish he caught, she wondered what dish he would make from them.
Just imagining it made her mouth water...
"Slurp — oh my. Get ahold of yourself."
Once she'd watched him gather up his catch and head off, she rose onto the land.
Following Lucas to the restaurant, she spent the whole journey in happy speculation, picturing the day's menu.
Then she opened the door.
"E-excuse me."
Inside the restaurant stood Lucas — and a woman she had never seen before.
"...Huh? Who's... this?"
Michelle pointed at the woman and looked to Lucas.
"Oh? We haven't opened for the day yet, you know."
The unfamiliar woman answered first.
Michelle smiled awkwardly as the woman approached. Through the strands of blonde hair, she spotted a pair of sharply pointed ears.
An elf.
A race that, like her own mermaid kind, had been pushed back by the continent-dwellers and now lived confined to the elf forests.
Why was an elf — notoriously elusive — here, of all places?
No. Before that.
"I wasn't asking you. I asked the owner."
"...?"
The words left her mouth, and Michelle startled herself.
Her tone had come out far icier than she'd intended.
"Ah, you've arrived. This is a new employee — joined us a few days ago."
"An employee?"
"Yes. She couldn't cover the cost of what she ate here. So she's working until the debt is paid off."
"And why exactly are you telling this woman that!"
Working here because she couldn't pay?
"Th-then what about meals?"
"She usually eats with us when there aren't any customers."
On top of that, she ate the restaurant food together with Lucas?
A sudden bitterness rose in Michelle's chest.
If someone couldn't pay, shouldn't they be thrown out — not fed and housed?
Then what about me, who paid properly?
I paid in full. So why do I have to travel all the way from the Dragon Palace and back by myself?
If I hadn't been able to pay, like this elf...
The idea of a Dragon Palace princess being short on money was, of course, absurd.
She didn't carry the gold coins the continent-dwellers used, but she had no shortage of jewels worth far more.
Sell a few of the gems she'd brought with her now, and she could get as much of their currency as she pleased.
A fine idea began to form.
A way to avoid eating lunch here and then forcing down dinner back at the Dragon Palace.
If she used the excuse that she had no money and needed to work here, she could surely stay through dinner as well.
I could stay as long as I want and order all kinds of dishes from the owner.
This was, naturally, the kind of thought possible only for a princess of a nation to whom the concept of "working" was entirely foreign.
Had Andrea known what Michelle was thinking, she would have pleaded with her not to try it.
"I-I don't have money either. Wh-what a coincidence. I'll also work here..."
"No need to worry, miss. Didn't you already pay in advance last time? As long as you have your meal ticket..."
"Oh, oh dear, I seem to have left my meal ticket at home?"
Even she could tell her acting was painfully stiff.
At that, Lucas laughed and said,
"It's fine. I'm not stingy enough to turn away a regular over something like that."
"..."
Her lips jutted into a pout.
Why not me?
I want to stay here and eat the owner's special menu to my heart's content, too.
She didn't push it, though.
The dignity of a Dragon Palace princess kept her from throwing a tantrum in front of a stranger.
"Ahem. In that case, a fish dish, please."
She took the seat at the table nearest to the kitchen and placed her order.
- Fish Dish — 12 Silver — Menu varies according to the day's catch.
Her favorite item on the menu.
Part of the fun was appreciating Lucas's skill as he crafted a new dish every day from whatever fish he'd caught.
"Like I said, we aren't open ye—"
"Andrea, set the table."
"...Fine."
The elf looked ready to argue, but Lucas cut her off.
A strange surge of superiority washed over Michelle.
It rinsed away the sting of the defeat she'd felt moments earlier.
I'm that kind of customer. Hmph.
"What's the dish today?"
"I caught some nice Spanish mackerel and squid. I'm thinking grilled fish, with a side of fried squid."
"Just grilling it, and that's all?"
"Yes, I'll brush on a special seasoning, so grilling alone will be enough. The fry will turn out well, too."
Lucas brought out a Spanish mackerel, already dead, and removed its fins.
"Shall I serve it whole-roasted, or boneless?"
At his question, Michelle watched the mackerel and answered.
"Which is more delicious?"
"Personally, I prefer boneless grilling. No need to pick around bones. Though a whole roast has its own charm."
"Boneless, then, please."
"Understood."
He removed all the innards, then brought a heavy Chinese cleaver down on the mackerel's head.
Thwack!
With the head severed, he splayed the fish open and cut along both sides.
A few strokes of his blade, and the central spine came away clean in a single motion.
Once, this would have been a scene of unbearable cruelty she couldn't have watched. Now it was a show that whetted her appetite.
He sprinkled salt evenly over the deboned fillets.
The fine white grains sifted down, settling into every crevice of the flesh.
"Water."
The elf waitress held out a water bottle, but Michelle didn't so much as glance her way.
She kept her eyes fixed, quiet and intent, on Lucas cooking.
Watching him in a daze was oddly healing.
She had never known, before Lucas, that watching someone cook for you could be so pleasing to behold.
Lucas dusted the surface of the mackerel with a thin layer of white flour.
"Why do you sprinkle that on?"
"When you grill boneless fillets, the flesh can sometimes crumble and fall apart. Flour helps prevent that. You can skip it, of course, but nothing beats it for adding texture."
"Ahh."
Every one of Lucas's explanations was something she'd never heard before.
So cooking involves all sorts of techniques I never imagined.
She'd learned through Lucas just how many steps a dish went through before it reached the table.
It fascinated her.
Oil went into a heated frying pan.
Then, one by one, he laid the mackerel fillets flesh-side down in a neat row.
"Why do you cook the flesh side first?"
"Because it's easier to keep the shape. If you start with the skin side, the fish curls up too much. That can tear the skin, so it's best to cook the flesh side first as much as possible. Freshwater fish is another story, though."
"I see."
Another new piece of knowledge.
Michelle loved these little exchanges with Lucas amid the flow of a dish taking shape.
It made the wait for the food to finish feel anything but tedious.
"It's fascinating."
He switched the heat to low, laid a sheet of paper over the grilling mackerel, then moved briskly on to the next task.
Now he began dusting prepared squid pieces in frying powder with a light, deft touch.
Once the squid was evenly coated, he mixed frying powder and water in a wide bowl to form a batter.
Sizzle-sizzle.
While the mackerel cooked slowly, he coated the squid in the batter with practiced ease, then dropped the pieces into the pot brimming with frying oil.
Hssss!
Into the clear golden oil, the white-battered squid plopped down.
Crackle-pop!
As the squid boiled inside the oil, the fry frothed and bubbled. Bits of white batter drifted up alongside the frying pieces, crackling away like tiny snacks.
The sounds of something delicious filled the air.
While the squid fried, Lucas flipped the mackerel.
"Ooh!"
On the golden-brown surface of the grilled fish, fish oil and cooking oil popped and sizzled.
"The Maillard reaction came through perfectly, didn't it?"
"Yes. It looks mouthwatering."
Grrrowwlll.
She was hungry.
Her stomach clamored for food, now.
Michelle stared, entranced, at the fish as he began grilling the skin side.
His cooking possessed a strange magic that kept pulling her into a daze.
Every step looked like a piece of art.
When the white batter had turned a crisp gold, Lucas lifted the fried squid from the oil.
Oil dripped steadily from the fry as it drained on a wire mesh strainer.
I want to eat it now.
Saliva pooled in her mouth.
She wanted to grab a piece with her bare hands and bite straight into it with a crunch.
The harmony of chewy squid flesh and crispy batter — that would be perfect, wouldn't it?
It might be so hot it'd scorch the roof of her mouth, but she didn't think she'd care.
While the lemon-tinted fried squid — made in clean oil — seized her gaze, Lucas was mixing up a sauce to brush over the fish: soy sauce, chili powder, minced garlic, plus sugar, sesame oil, and sesame seeds.
He added chopped green onion, onion, and cheongyang peppers into the sauce and stirred it together.
A seasoning sauce to pour over the fully grilled mackerel.
It would deepen the fish's flavor without needing to cook them together.
Because simply grilling it would leave the taste a bit plain.
He also prepared a separate soy-sauce dip for the unseasoned boneless fillet and the fried squid.
Soy sauce, with a little squeeze of lemon.
He felt a pang of regret that he didn't have any wasabi on hand.
Wasabi is the absolute best with fish.
The fish, cooked all the way through, was arranged neatly on a plate.
One fillet was dressed with the finished sauce; the other was left pure and unadorned. A platter held the freshly fried squid alongside the soy dipping sauce.
"Andrea, serve it, please."
"Yes, understood."
With the side dishes and a bowl of steamed rice all ready, Lucas handed the serving off to Andrea.
Michelle watched the completed fish dish travel from Lucas's hands toward her.
This had become the happiest moment of her recent days.
What would it taste like?
How delicious would it be?
It would be a new experience, wouldn't it?
What if she felt too sad once she'd finished it all?
A flurry of thoughts crossed her mind.
Right up until Andrea, carrying the tray over, murmured under her breath:
"Meat's way better. Why eat fish like this?"
This rude elf — ?