Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Tofu Emperor
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House Riddle's slave dormitory.
Several slaves were peeking at the door, full of anticipation.
In the past, these slaves would waste away their time in a corpse-like state, merely waiting for their bread rations.
To conserve even a little strength, they would lie down,
or, lacking even space to lie down, lean against the walls while seated—that was the daily life of a slave.
But the slaves now were different.
Their eyes trembled with expectation.
They craved something fiercely,
with intense, burning desire.
There was hope.
Before long,
footsteps approached from beyond the door.
"He's coming...!"
"Shh. Don't raise your voice in his presence."
The door opened.
A man walked in.
All the slaves bowed their heads to him.
The man scanned them with cold eyes devoid of emotion,
then furrowed his brow slightly and removed his gloves.
"You first. Extend your hand."
This man was none other than
Karl Riddle, their rightful master.
"Yes..."
The slave Karl pointed to cautiously extended his hand.
Fearing that an overly vigorous reply might grate on his master's ears,
he stifled his breath as it threatened to burst forth,
responding in the smallest yet clear enough voice,
politely lifting his hand.
Karl grasped the slave's hand and closed his eyes for a moment.
The sight almost resembled a prayer offered for the slave.
"...I see. So that's how it is."
Long ago,
would a saint who held the hands of lepers and prayed for them have looked like this?
One slave, recently studying the scriptures,
suddenly harbored that absurd, blasphemous thought.
Comparing an evil merchant to a great saint.
This man should be nothing more than a pirate who cared only for their freedom and resale value,
and yet, despite knowing that,
somehow, deep in his heart, only respect and fondness for this man welled up.
And well it should.
"You've studied writing diligently. Every night, sacrificing sleep to read the scriptures. To console your fallen comrade."
"...Yes."
"Yes. That comrade... always carried a book with prayers tucked in his bosom. Before every battle, he prayed for his fellows like a priest. And when that friend died, you received the book, but couldn't read it because you were illiterate. So you struggled every night to recall the prayers he'd shared, trying to take on his role. It was clumsy, but thanks to you, many comrades found comfort. Though you eventually lost the book."
"..."
In the end, people lose their hearts to those who 'truly understand them.'
Humans are fundamentally lonely creatures.
Especially slaves.
No one truly fathoms another's heart.
Even if they try,
they can't grasp it fully.
Not even family from early childhood,
nor comrades who faced death together,
can comprehend the intimate secrets one harbors inside.
"You've truly worked hard."
But this devil of a man made it possible.
Casually barging into the weakest corners of one's heart like it was nothing,
trampling through memories and recollections,
dragging out what one most desired—what even they themselves hadn't realized.
"That sentiment is truly touching."
The master's eyes met the slave's.
The slave's hand trembled.
The master's lips parted.
"And... yes. You missed that foreign preserved ration you ate with your comrade back then. The one who passed you the book always yielded one to you."
"...Yes. That's right. I remember."
A forgotten memory resurfaced.
The one he'd desperately tried to recall every night,
but failed, leaving a gaping hole in his chest,
that emptiness
began to fill, bit by bit.
As a slave, something he'd forgotten came back to life.
"Save up Talants, and I'll let you buy it. It's unfamiliar in the Empire, so it'll cost quite a bit. Hmm... about 20 Talants should do."
Expensive.
5 Talants could buy a bowl of watery meat stew.
10 Talants for white bread.
Most slaves probably wouldn't spend enough for twenty loaves on preserved rations eaten only in the army.
But if called the price of memory,
the cost of remembering one's humanity,
it was absurdly cheap.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. You'll earn the Talants and buy it yourself."
"..."
Having thus shaken the slave's soul,
the master released his hand.
The slave stared blankly at his own hand with regret.
But there was no helping it.
"You there, extend your hand."
"Yes...!"
There were many more in need of salvation.
.
.
.
Karl's personal interviews continued afterward.
Not just the new arrivals,
but even those who'd shed their newbie status—he went to each one, grasping their hands.
Among them was Lemon, a future comrade of the original protagonist.
"...Impressive. Truly—those hands are a mess of tears and calluses. You've swung a sword until the blisters burst multiple times, I see."
'Guhhh! So he's finally revealing that shady desire?! Am I about to be dragged to the bedroom to service a noble with my hands?!'
There was a slight(?) misunderstanding due to differing perceptions,
but since the other slaves felt the same, it wasn't a big issue.
"But excessive training only ruins the body. At your young age, overworking yourself like that hinders proper growth."
"...Pardon?"
"Training is prohibited after 22:00 from now on. Sleep properly when you should. And I'll add special meals good for muscle building and growth to the Talant shop. I can't force how you spend Talants, but I recommend trying them at least once."
"Pardon?"
.
.
.
The slaves had become passionate.
It was a good thing, but as a result, their nutritional deficiencies became apparent.
I'm still hungry.
I'll become an even better master.
"So, we're going to make tofu."
"Tofu... you say?"
"Yes. Think of it as food made from beans—with a texture like meat or cheese."
Aaah—this is 'tofu.'
A miraculous food for efficiently absorbing protein.
Eh?!
You can absorb protein without eating meat?!
Amazing!
"There are still many slaves eating only bread. At this rate, nutritional imbalance will wreck their bodies."
The only protein slaves could eat
was the faintly meat-scented stew.
That's why I thought of tofu.
This was the moment to use my 21st-century modern cheat.
"If made soft without draining moisture, it has a cheese-like texture. Pressed and squeezed, it mimics ground meat. Slice thin and dry it for a snack-like crunch."
"...Such a food exists?"
"Yes. And its greatest advantage: you only need beans and nigari. Soybeans are best, but you can even make it with those foul-tasting black beans."
Torsso eyed me skeptically, as if to say 'no such miracle food exists.'
Aaah.
His faith is lacking.
"Behold the miracle of beans turning into food."
"Beans are already food."
"Calling that animal feed 'food'—unbelievable."
"Pardon?"
And so, after a few days of trial and error from memory, I succeeded in making homemade tofu.
Still a bit rough,
but with a proper tofu mold later, it should rival store-bought.
"...Certainly, it really feels like meat and cheese. If properly cooked... it could even grace a noble's table."
"It won't fully replace real meat. Just good enough for slaves."
"No, that's not what I meant..."
Torsso gazed at my homemade tofu with a strange smile.
His lips curved up,
as if struck by an intriguing idea.
"This... made from beans, so it can be eaten on Meatless Days, right?"
"Huh?"
"It'll sell like hotcakes to nobles and clergy. Definitely."
"What."
.
.
.
Meatless Days.
Literally, days without meat.
Ash Wednesday, Lent, every Friday, and so on.
On days requiring religious observance,
they abstain from meat to atone for sins and honor the Savior.
Note that 'meat' includes anything from animals.
Milk, butter, cheese—all forbidden.
"Preparing wine, festivals, and rest, yet unable to eat meat—meat-loving nobles go mad on Meatless Days. Nobles sneak it, but clergy risk losing qualifications, so their stress is immense."
"Come on, just skip it for a few days? That hard?"
"White bread has milk in it. No butter either, so tasty food is tough. Can't survive on salad alone."
"Ah."
One key point:
the gap in breeding between this world's salads and 21st-century ones is vast.
People think breeding first for livestock like cows or pigs.
But,
unlike meat that's just less fatty, tough, and gamey,
this world's salads were literally 'grass.'
Fruits had too many seeds, were too sour or astringent,
and fish was the closest to modern flavors.
"In that sense, this tofu is nutty and flavorful, pairs well with sauces. Use in salads instead of cheese, stew with sauce like meat. Practically a miracle food."
"Hmm. That good...?"
"Your Excellency, head of House Riddle, might not feel it, but for central nobles and clergy, religious prestige is worth a fortune. Keeping Meatless Days alone while others don't solidifies a house head's position."
I didn't buy Torsso's hype entirely...
But his judgment as a native should be sharper.
"Fine. Make it a product and sell it then."
"Yes!"
Hey, if it recovers the slave-buying costs, great.
Should be fine.