This Is Delicious
This Is Delicious
Diana stared at the red broth, then at the chef who had wheeled in the cart.
"Did you cook this yourself?"
"Yes, of course."
The chef bowed his head, but the doubt lingering on Diana's face didn't fade.
Until now, her personal chef had only ever produced disappointing food. His dishes gave off no scent that quickened the pulse, offered no flavor that satisfied the tongue.
So why did this smell so familiar?
It was the scent of a chef she knew.
It's identical to the smell of Lucas's cooking.
From the aroma alone, she could already feel it — the sharp spiciness that prickled the nose, and at the same time a savory richness that teased the appetite awake.
"This is what's trending among the nobility?"
"It is. I understand the Golden Wagon recently distributed prototypes to high-ranking nobles and the imperial household. I myself received one from His Majesty's cook and tested it."
"The Golden Wagon?"
The name rang a bell.
The trading arm of the distinguished merchant-noble Wagon family — a venture helmed by Camilla Wagon, a bold merchant known for sticking her fingers into anything that turned a profit.
As far as she knew, Camilla Wagon's Golden Wagon had not yet ventured into the food business — aside from occasionally procuring rare ingredients like premium tuu from who-knew-where.
Even then, those were mostly gifts for the nobility.
And now, suddenly, they're in the restaurant trade?
And the product just so happened to smell like a certain man's cooking?
"What do they call this prototype?"
"Ramyun soup, they said. A mysterious powder that becomes a spicy broth simply by adding it to water and boiling it."
"A mysterious powder?"
"Yes. It was created for people who cannot cook. I tested it once as an experiment, and its safety has been verified, so you may eat without concern."
She looked at the bits of vegetable and the curly noodles submerged in the red broth.
She had never seen food like this before.
Lucas never made me a noodle dish.
His cooking had mostly been rice-based. He'd also learned imperial cooking techniques and demonstrated them for her. But noodles, specifically, he'd never once served.
Even that supposedly simple pasta — he'd never touched it.
Maybe this wasn't Lucas's cooking after all.
Mere coincidence.
"And this dish — what do they call it?"
"Ramyun, they said."
"Ramyun..."
Was it just her imagination, sensing a familiar naming sensibility in an unfamiliar word?
Still only suspicion.
"It's noodles, so they go soft quickly. Please eat before that happens."
The chef bowed as he spoke.
He's swallowed a lot of pride.
This wasn't a technique her chef typically used. In fact, this was a product meant to be sold to people who couldn't cook. And yet her top-ranked chef had tested it himself and chosen to serve it.
The effort is commendable.
His skill fell short, but she appreciated the grit.
-Grit alone is useless. Kill him.
Even now, the voice was urging her to kill this chef.
Diana ignored it and picked up her chopsticks.
The utensil she had popularized across this continent. No — the utensil a certain man had first introduced to her, every time he served her a memorable meal.
-They're called chopsticks. Once you get the hang of them, they're far more versatile than a fork.
She remembered Lucas, smiling as he taught her how to use them.
-This is called kimchi stew. It's a bit spicy — will that be all right?
He was a man who, for some reason, tried to avoid her — yet whenever she sought him out, he'd kindly teach her this and that.
-What shall I prepare for today's menu?
Perhaps it was the long-absent, familiar scent.
Lucas's face kept surfacing in her mind.
She pinched a tangle of the curly ramyun noodles with her chopsticks.
Lifted the steam-wreathed noodles from the broth, swept her hair back, and took a bite.
"Hmm?"
It felt like her foggy, muffled head had just — pop! — snapped back to clarity. Like the sensation of waking up after a truly refreshing night's sleep.
It's delicious.
That familiar flavor. A punchy taste that woke up her tongue, then her head, then every sense in her body, one by one. While the chili powder's heat numbed the tip of her tongue and a deep, lingering savoriness swirled thickly in her mouth, the nutty chew of the noodles teased her appetite with every bite.
As the fog cleared from her mind—
-Stop!
-Stop eating!
-It's poisoned! The chef poisoned the food to kill us!
-You'll die if you eat more!
-It's poison that will destroy you.
A clamor of voices rose up.
Hearing them, Diana realized: this food was the worst possible thing for those voices.
She lifted a spoonful of the broth to her lips. Bits of vegetable and mushroom came with it.
The sharp, clean sting hit her the moment she drank it. She savored the heat of the chili powder and red pepper, the mellow richness of well-simmered garlic, the chewy bite of mushroom, letting the broth wet her lips.
"Haaaah."
Without meaning to, she let out a sigh of relief into the spicy steam.
It wasn't just a sound of enjoyment.
It was the exhilaration of escaping the pain that had tormented her head to the point of madness, a gasp of relief at being freed from pointless lunacy.
"It's delicious."
She couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from tugging upward.
It had been far too long.
The taste couldn't compare to the food he made with his own hands — but it had been so long that each bite melted softly on her tongue.
This time, she grabbed a bigger mouthful of noodles.
In the imperial court, women were taught that stuffing one's mouth full was unseemly, so it had become fashionable among marriageable ladies of the imperial house never to do so.
But this was her office.
Who would dare reproach her here?
And even if someone did — what would she care?
She was about to become crown princess. A woman whose reputation would not suffer for a single breach of etiquette.
She filled her cheeks until they puffed out.
It was delicious.
Truly delicious.
How long had it been since she'd eaten something that woke her mind alive? Diana closed her eyes, lost in a feast of flavors whose true worth she'd never grasped back when she'd taken them for granted. Setting aside the taste itself, she was secretly stunned at the effect this food had on her condition — which only made her evaluation of it all the more generous.
"It was delicious. Truly delicious."
She drained the bowl to the last drop of broth, maintaining the satisfied smile she'd worn the entire meal, and dabbed her lips with a handkerchief to wipe away the ramyun stains.
"Golden Wagon, you said?"
"Y-yes, Your Highness."
Their prototype.
Could it really be that Lucas had left her and attached himself to Lady Camilla?
If so... why?
She suddenly remembered something the chef had once said.
-Five hundred servings, and I'm doing it alone? Th-that's an absurd amount. You'd have to assign me at least ten more men...
He'd said that five hundred servings alone was impossible. Especially when the customers were knights, whose appetites far exceeded the average person. Handling it solo was madness.
That had been one of the things she'd failed to notice because Lucas had made it all look so effortless.
She had worked a talented man far too harshly.
"Fail to recognize talent and drive it ruthlessly into the ground... of course it would leave."
She bit her lip as the realization of her mistake sank in.
Golden Wagon's Camilla. The woman she'd turned a blind eye to even when she visited the knight order.
"Prepare for an outing. I'm going to the Golden Wagon headquarters."
It seemed the time had come for a frank conversation.
***
At the Golden Wagon, Camilla Wagon couldn't stop smiling as she reviewed the nobles' reactions to the ramyun soup.
"This is remarkable! Where in the world did you find such a product? Just add water and boil, and it becomes a dish!"
"We'd been worried about not knowing the chefs' secret techniques — is this how they cook?"
"The technique is fascinating. It feels like a genuine innovation."
Once it came out that this had been made through freeze-drying technology, the soup's value would soar even higher. The idea of dehydrating food through extreme cooling rather than heat was considered nearly impossible by modern alchemists.
"Fufufu. Once that secret gets out, people will be swarming to buy the technology."
Camilla's mind was filled with schemes for monetizing this soup.
A premium strategy targeting the nobility first. Then, later, a standard version affordable to the merchant class, and a low-cost mass-market version that even commoners in the provinces could afford.
If this could be properly popularized, she believed it would pave the way for far more than just ramyun soup.
Still, nothing tastes as good as Sir Lucas's cooking.
She was already licking her lips, craving his food. Ah, she wanted it so badly. It hadn't been that many days since she'd last eaten it, and she already missed it.
"You've been going out to the provinces far too often lately. Work has piled up, head of the merchant group."
Her right hand, Kobi — a gnome with the sharpest eye for detail — spoke up beside her.
"Did we close the mine contract in the northeast?"
"Yes. Our Golden Wagon holds 70 percent of the mining stake. The remaining 30 percent is split between another merchant group and the development owner, Count Lionent."
"Not bad. That went well."
Everything was going smoothly. This year would probably be their most profitable yet.
And it was all because she'd been eating good food, honestly.
She was thinking exactly that when—
"Head of the group!"
A guard burst in, flustered.
"What is it?"
"Her Highness, the imperial princess, has come!"
"The princess? Princess Diana?"
"Yes!"
Why now, of all times?
At this stage, with the throne game reaching its peak, Princess Diana was the last person a merchant should be meeting. The reason was simple: the First Prince, who enjoyed the fervent support of the nobility.
On one side, a princess of exceptional ability whose ascension was not yet certain. On the other, the First Prince with the massive backing of the aristocracy.
Backing the right side could bring enormous wealth. But backing the wrong one meant political ruin. And Princess Diana had shown up before the Golden Wagon had firmly chosen its direction.
Is she going to ask for campaign financing?
There was no other reason for her to visit.
"This is awkward."
"What shall we do?"
"Turning her away isn't an option. That would make her an enemy. Kobi, escort Her Highness in first. We'll figure out the details once we talk."
Camilla turned over her mental abacus. Was that proud princess desperate enough to seek her out personally? She'd heard the saintess had gone missing — perhaps that was the reason. She probably wanted to build a new base of support.
In my view, she's the strongest candidate for the throne...
But the risk was enormous.
Camilla had already received reports — through eyes and ears — on the capabilities, support bases, and crisis management of every prince and princess.
The experts in her merchant group strongly urged her to back the First Prince, but her own assessment differed.
Princess Diana was inevitable.
Even with the upheaval of the saintess's disappearance, Camilla still rated her chances highest.
The reason was straightforward.
She was the most outstanding, and the emperor himself held her abilities in high regard.
The nobles weren't ignorant of this. They were wary of her precisely because she was so exceptional. A stronger imperial authority meant weaker noble power.
To a merchant, this is an opportunity.
This might be a chance to pull down the old powers and seize a new position.
At that moment, Diana entered with Kobi.
"It's been a while, Lady Camilla Wagon."
Camilla covered her face with her fan as she returned the greeting.
"It has been a long time, Your Highness. What brings you to such a humble establishment?"
"I came to ask you something."
Diana, who had been staring intently at Camilla, stepped closer and spoke.
"Do you know where Sir Lucas is?"
The question that came was nothing like what Camilla had braced for.
Not a visit for campaign funds. Not political blackmail or demands.
"Excuse me?"
"I sampled that ramyun soup your Wagon family developed. It tasted extremely familiar. Who created it?"
The eyes of the crowned golden lion were fixed on the great wheel that moved the empire.
***
"...I thought it was too quiet."
I looked at the knights who had ambushed our camp.
Armor emblazoned with a red eagle. The knights, gripping their swords, watched us with killing intent in their eyes.
"Hand over the woman behind you. Now."
Bellosa's knights — the ones I knew were pursuing Saint Amelia.
"What should we do?"
Andrea and Ivan both looked at me at once.
"We deal with them."
I picked up my wok and spatula.
Why only these? Well, truth is, these were the only things I brought.
"Wreck every last one of them."