Cooking on a Day Off
It was a day off at last.
Dighton let out a long, weary sigh and shook his head.
"With all of you piled in here, the place suddenly feels tiny."
"What are you talking about? I'm not fat!"
Sorbi, who had been brushing Luke's hair, snapped as if she had just heard something unforgivable.
Dighton waved a hand dismissively, insisting that wasn't what he meant at all.
"Luke, what do you think?"
At Sorbi's question, Luke answered without hesitation.
"It does feel rather cramped once everyone is inside, yes."
"Luke, even you…!"
Seeing Sorbi's face crumple as though she had been betrayed, Luke hurriedly tried to soothe her.
"No—it's simply that Dighton's house is small. Don't take it to heart."
"R-right?"
Sorbi exhaled in relief and muttered under her breath, "Yeah, gaining a kilo isn't even that much," but Luke decided it was kinder to pretend he hadn't heard.
"Would you ladies mind stopping the house-shaming already?"
Luke, Sorbi, and Kirke had all gathered at Dighton's place for one reason: so Luke could cook.
Yerna's house simply lacked any proper setup for cooking in the first place.
In truth, Yerna had never even considered attempting anything that could be called cooking. Whenever she tried following a cookbook on her own, the vague wording left Luke more bewildered than enlightened, so solo efforts were hopeless.
A large spoon, a small spoon, low heat, high heat…
Those fuzzy expressions gave Luke no sense of scale whatsoever.
Spoon sizes weren't even standardized internationally—why on earth use them as units? And what temperature, exactly, counted as "low heat" versus "high heat"?
Perhaps the problem was that the recipes were written for a child's eye level.
They were full of figurative language any "child" could supposedly understand, yet without concrete numbers Luke found them nearly impossible to follow.
That was why a "cooking teacher" had become necessary.
"All set! Go cook!"
"Thank you, Sorbi."
Luke rose, offering thanks to Sorbi for tying back the hair that would only get in the way.
Tying his own hair was something he could manage, of course—but the horns that got in the way whenever he reached behind his head meant he still needed her help.
It must have been a bothersome task, yet Sorbi only smiled as if it were nothing.
"Thanks? Then call me Unnie!"
"…I'll pass. I already heard more than enough of that last time."
Luke recalled the day she had gifted him the phone.
The sheer mortification of knowing every forest keeper had heard those embarrassing words at least once had nearly killed him from shame.
There was no way he could say it again while sober.
He edged away from Sorbi and hurried over to Dighton as if fleeing.
"Ahem. Ready when you are, Dighton."
"Good. Put this on."
Dighton handed him an apron.
It was a child's apron.
"Is this… Deana's?"
"Yeah. She helps with meal prep sometimes."
Luke looked over at Deana in mild surprise.
The adorable red-haired girl nestled in Kirke's arms like a doll beamed back at him.
That little one already helps with meals? Quite the hard worker.
It also gave him a boost of confidence. If a child that small could cook, there was no reason he couldn't.
Once he finally managed the apron knot, Luke looked up at Dighton.
"All on. Shall we make some food, then?"
Dighton checked that the apron was properly secured, then let out a long breath.
"Like I said last time—no seafood cream pasta."
"Why not?"
Luke made no effort to hide his disappointment; it filled every line of his face and voice.
Yet Dighton remained utterly unmoved, shaking his head with firm resolve.
"It's way too hard for you right now. Seafood's especially tricky for a complete beginner."
A first-timer wanting seafood cream pasta? Dream big, why don't you.
He'd asked for something doable, and seafood cream pasta crossed the line.
"But it was so delicious…"
"Hey, you asked me to teach you something you could actually make, remember?"
"…"
Luke had no comeback for that.
Well, he was a beginner, after all.
Even back in the old days, when the three of them had adventured together for the subjugation war, Luke had been little more than the flint.
Renier had been the skilled cook; Cail had excelled at prep work.
So Luke's only real job had been lighting the fire with magic.
Looking back, an Eighth-Circle archmage reduced to nothing more than a fire-starter…
For the final adventure of a lifetime, it had still been quite the experience, hadn't it?
In the demon realm we couldn't get any support, and even Fire was unusable unless you were at least Eighth Circle…
The mana and the very fabric of that dimension had been hideously warped—fundamentally different from the material world humans had always known. Reworking spells under those extreme conditions had been anything but easy.
Completely different constellations, completely different planetary alignments, a completely different coordinate system… How many trials and how much grinding effort had it taken just to calculate them all in his head?
As a side note, that experience had led Luke to discover the formula for spatial coordinate systems.
The book he wrote to organize it, however, had received a lukewarm reception from the Magic Tower at the time.
Not because it was wrong—because no one else could understand the theory.
It took a full three hundred years before the formula was finally judged "correct" and officially recognized. Even now, that theory and its underlying insight remained a solid pillar at the heart of modern magic.
Of course, a great many refinements had been made in the modern era…
But to Dighton, the Luke who had briefly drifted into thought simply looked like someone truly heartbroken over not getting pasta.
He must have wanted that seafood cream pasta something fierce.
Dighton spoke gently, as if coaxing him.
"…Still, you like meat, right? Don't you?"
At the word "meat," Luke's ears gave a tiny upward twitch.
If it had made a sound, it would have been a soft perked.
"Of course I do."
Meat that demanded actual chewing had been something the old Luke could never enjoy—but what about now?
His even, perfectly formed teeth had no gaps and no sore spots, letting him savor the pure pleasure of biting and swallowing.
In his youth it had been so ordinary he never noticed; only after losing it to the years did he truly feel its value.
So how could he possibly dislike the sensation of chewing something with his teeth?
Luke simply loved chewing.
If it tasted good too, that was ideal.
When Luke looked up at him with expectant eyes, Dighton cleared his throat.
"So what we're making today is roast beef."
"Roast… beef? As in oven-roasted cow?"
Meat baked in an oven.
Simple enough, really.
And if it was just oven work, even Yerna's house could handle it without trouble.
There were no open-flame tools, but an oven existed there too.
Yet Yerna, who insisted on raw vegetables out of sheer laziness, left the oven unused.
These days it was little more than a dish cupboard.
"Yeah. Leftovers go great in sandwiches. Yerna's place has plenty of vegetables, right?"
"Indeed. Nothing but vegetables."
"…And those canned goods?"
Dighton looked faintly nauseated.
"Of course… Ah, I switched flavors recently. The slightly spicy one is truly delicious!"
Dighton gave a small shudder.
Still just canned food in the end.
If we ever get married, I can kiss breakfast goodbye.
Then he thought, Eh, whatever—I'll just cook it myself, and handed Luke potatoes, carrots, and other vegetables.
"You've got these at home, right?"
"Certainly. Boxes full of them."
"Then we don't have to worry about that. Oh, and later I'll teach you how to buy meat too."
"Ohhh. Truly grateful. That will be a great help."
"Right?"
Luke gave a small smile to Dighton, who had whispered, So you have to put in a good word for me with Yerna.
He had never said anything bad about the man.
Of course, he hadn't exactly said anything glowing either.
"Of course."
But starting today, perhaps he could lend Dighton a little more support.
"You must be disappointed Yerna isn't here."
"Tell me about it."
Dighton closed his eyes briefly and shrugged.
Well, inviting Yerna to a meat-cooking session would have been rude, and one of the forest keepers always had to stay on duty—so she wasn't present.
Exactly.
Kirke and Sorbi had come in her place.
"Anyway. What you need to do right now is peel these potatoes and carrots."
"Leave it to me."
Peeling skins—nothing difficult about that.
Luke took the potatoes and carrots and immediately drew a knife.
It was an ordinary kitchen knife with no special features.
Hoh. Quite sharp and sturdy. This level of finish without even basic blessings or enchantments…
A simple household knife with this much strength—Luke had some knowledge of blades as well.
In the old noble society, swordsmanship had been basic etiquette, and Luke had been a mage who stood on the front lines of war.
Naturally his sword skill was enough to face most swordmasters head-on.
The soft shing of the blade sounded rather threatening.
With this keenness and durability, there would be nothing in a kitchen it couldn't cut.
And if he added a little mana, ending a life would of course be…
"Hey, put that down—it's dangerous. This is what you're using."
What Dighton held out was a small vegetable peeler.
Yes—the kind designed so you could only peel skins and nothing else.
"What is this?"
Luke accepted the peeler and tilted his head at its odd shape.
"Don't know how to use it?"
"I do not."
"Here, like this."
Dighton wrapped his hand around Luke's and peeled a potato with quick scritch-scritch strokes.
The unfamiliar sensation was oddly fun for Luke.
A feeling no ordinary knife could give.
"Ohh! This is quite marvelous!"
And with the blade unexposed, it was extremely safe as well.
Whoever had designed this must have been a remarkable person.
"Think you can handle it?"
"Of course!"
As Luke cheerfully began peeling with the vegetable peeler, Dighton whistled and wiped sweat from his brow.
If Luke gets hurt, I'm the one who gets scolded by Yerna.
Seasoned and roasted together with the vegetables, the roast beef was extremely delicious.
"Luke made this? It's seriously amazing!"
Sorbi's eyes went wide as she shoveled meat into her mouth.
Dighton shook his head.
"Nope. I actually made this one. Figured Luke needed a proper example."
"He's right. All I did was peel the potatoes and carrots. Dighton handled the rest."
Sorbi's face fell into pure disappointment.
"Ah."
"What? Why?"
"I said it was delicious thinking Luke made it. Now it just sounds like I'm praising you. No wonder it tasted too good."
"Is that a compliment or an insult? Pick one."
Even so, Dighton crossed his arms and looked away, oddly bashful.
"It is tasty, though. Mm, Luke—how is it?"
"…"
Luke nearly forgot table manners entirely and shouted how good it was.
The taste of hot, freshly roasted meat, blown cool and cut into perfect bites, was something school lunches could never deliver.
Watching Luke chew in silent bliss, Kirke spoke up.
"That face definitely means it's delicious."
"Right? Oppa's cooking is always the best!"
Deana flashed Dighton a thumbs-up and grinned.
Luke nodded along and sent Dighton a look of agreement.
Dighton rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, then glanced down at the girls and muttered,
"Yeah, eating well is great and all… but are you leaving me none at all?"
There hadn't been room for him at the living-room table, and the roast beef had already nearly vanished.
When he spoke with a touch of resentment, Sorbi answered airily,
"You can make this stuff whenever you want."
"I don't make it every day."
Deana chimed in agreement.
Oppa really didn't cook it every day, she insisted.
Then Kirke seemed to remember something.
"But if we're going to eat what Luke makes later, we should stop around here."
"You've already cleaned the plate, so what are you…"
"Hm."
Dighton cleared the empty dishes and turned to Luke.
"Anyway. That's how it's done. Got it? Now you try."
"Understood. Guide me well!"
It had been truly delicious.
If he could learn to make something like this, he was more than welcome to it.
"…How on earth did this burn? Is the oven broken?"
"…"
Had the problem been that he secretly cranked the heat because he wanted to eat sooner?
He had thought circle-magic heat control was perfect…
But for it to char this badly.
Was the mistake adjusting the firepower based on the demon-realm days?
Creatures there had high magic resistance as a baseline, so running the same calculations was bound to fail.
Why hadn't he thought of that?
Pai, apparently deciding even she had no words for this, produced nothing but a tiny breeze of searching silence.
Luke swallowed his embarrassment and raised his voice with forced confidence.
"Everyone makes mistakes the first time! I shall prepare the next attempt."
"You're not showing this to the others?"
"That is a secret between you and me… So would you kindly eat every last scrap…?"
"Leftover disposal, huh… Fine, whatever."
He couldn't very well serve this to guests.
Dighton cut away the burnt parts and, grumbling the whole time, ate it all.
Luke had made only a small portion to begin with; removing the char left almost nothing edible.
But seriously—how had it burned like that?
Well, at least it was meat, so the properly cooked parts still tasted decent.
After that, the second roast beef turned out quite respectable, and the flavor was solid.
"Indeed—patience is a virtue."
"What?"
"Ah, nothing at all."
From now on, Luke vowed, he would never use magic while cooking.