Feeling Down, but I Still Want Tteokbokki (3)

"You've all worked hard through a week of combat training. Rest well through tomorrow, shake off the fatigue, and be ready to give yourselves to your studies again the day after."

"Yes, sir! Thank you!"

The carriage had reached the Academy's main hall. Students who had been dozing jolted awake and climbed down, and once everyone had formed up, the instructor offered a brief word of dismissal.

At a glance the ranks looked haphazard, but a logic ran underneath them. The farther left one stood, the more the line was made up of students with higher grades, greater combat strength, and loftier birth. Without quite realizing it, Ishilla had been drawn along that current to the left — and her one and only friend and rival, Kariel, took the place to Ishilla's left.

The instructor was speaking. This was no time to chatter. Even so, Ishilla kept stealing glances at the red-haired beauty beside her.

Ever since she had started feeling that pointless sense of inferiority toward Kariel, every little thing got under her skin. They were the same age, so why was Kariel taller? A full week of field training, and her hair was still absurdly glossy.

Once, she had been nothing but proud to have a friend who possessed that kind of beauty. Now, if she was honest, she was jealous — of those proudly set shoulders, of that chest, of even that bold, easy smile.

Ugh... forget it, forget it. I just need to wash up and go eat.

Ishilla gave her head a small shake and cast the thoughts off. She was worn out, that was all. Of course her mind kept sliding in this direction. She pulled her gaze away from Kariel.

But Kariel was the sort who could feel even a squirrel's stare. There was no chance she had missed Ishilla's attention. A bright little smile — she had caught the look. Kariel tipped her head and grinned, a spotlessly clear smile, and lifted a hand in a wave as warm as sunlight.

Ishilla whipped her eyes back to the instructor in a fluster.

What? She noticed? Well... it is Kariel.

If anyone had appointed herself Kariel's rival and watched her more closely than anyone else, it was Ishilla. Jealousy, it turned out, could blind a person just that thoroughly. Her face went as red as a beet, and because her skin was the stark white of the north, the change stood out all the more. Inside she was in a panic; outside she was doing her best to play calm. Kariel answered that adorable struggle with a bewitching smile of the eyes, and without making a sound, shaped the words with her lips alone.

So cute.

"All right, then — dismissed! Rest properly and work the lingering fatigue out of you!"

"Yes, sir!"

"E-eh, yes. Yes, sir!!"

Kariel's provocation had thrown Ishilla completely off, and her answer to the instructor came out stiff and half-strangled. The longer she stayed beside that girl, the blanker her head became, and the more her body locked up like rusted armor. The moment the order to dismiss fell, Ishilla turned for the dormitory without a single look back.

She didn't understand it. She had no idea why she felt so unsettled. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It was only the storm of feeling any girl in adolescence was bound to pass through; for Ishilla, it had simply arrived a little late, with Kariel as the spark. And yet even one's own feelings are, paradoxically, the hardest to recognize. So she walked, and fled — fled from Kariel, the cause of the whirlpool in her chest.

Once she reached the dormitory, Ishilla dumped a week's worth of luggage into some rough order. The maids would see to the laundry anyway, and with rest granted through tomorrow, there was no rush to sort her supplies and consumables. She let warm water slowly melt a week of fatigue out of her, then dressed herself up nicely.

Kang Jinwoo, the Cooking Master who had been living in seclusion — or something like it — out in Kalian Forest. She had no idea why that man had come all the way to the Academy, but his skill, at least, was the real thing. Before the semester began she had gone home, and there she had learned what a truly supreme flavor was.

Because of that, or perhaps thanks to it, Academy food could no longer satisfy her. Her threshold for taste had risen past all reason. Dressing prettily was a courtesy owed to cooking of that caliber. She had also simply wanted, after so long, to make herself look nice.

A cool-toned sky-blue skirt, a shirt white as snow. Even the light, fluttering texture of the cloth suited her perfectly. A refreshing shower and a bit of dressing up, and the gloom that had been clinging to her dulled a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠little. Ishilla stepped out of the dormitory with a light tread, meaning to head for the Calius Merchant Guild mansion Jinwoo had told her about.

"Ishilla. All dressed up like that — where are you going?"

"Eep, Kariel. I-I was just going to get dinner."

She had been caught by Kariel, who was just as beautifully turned out, as if she too had been planning to go out. Their rooms were different, but the dormitory building was the same, so running into each other was always possible. Still — hadn't she walked quite quickly? She was certain she had arrived ahead of Kariel. How had the other girl gotten ready this fast? The questions rose, but none of them mattered much. Ishilla's destination was already decided. All she had to do was go.

"Hmm, dinner? Perfect timing. I was about to go eat too. With you."

"Huh? With me?"

"Yeah. Why so startled all of a sudden? We eat together all the time. Don't tell me you don't want to have meals with me anymore."

"No... it's not that."

Just as Kariel said, unless something came up, Ishilla was always with her. Going to class, sitting through lessons, eating — nearly everything she did at the Academy, they did together.

"You were walking so fast I hurried a bit myself. Were you that hungry?"

"It's not that..."

"Hehe. The new hardtack is tasty enough, but it's no substitute for a proper meal. You could have said something, though. I nearly missed you."

"Ah, s-sorry."

"I don't know where we're going, but shall we head out?"

"Ugh... yeah."

Contrary to her reputation for being haughty and cold, Ishilla's chill was nothing more than shyness. And Kariel, wherever and whenever, came up to her with a soft, easy smile and melted that chill away — just as she had now, when Ishilla had somehow agreed to company before she knew what she was doing. Ishilla was shy, but she was no fool. There was no malice at all in Kariel's words or actions. Ishilla knew that. Which was precisely why she couldn't refuse a situation like this.

Click, click, click—!

Click, click, click…

Two sets of footsteps rang down the Academy street. One was bold and sure, a stride like the sun. The other was somewhat hunched, and stiff.

Um... I think the person I invited may have come to the wrong place.

I wanted to say it, but faced with that blazing presence, my mouth simply would not open. And she hadn't come to the wrong place at all.

"M-Master. I'm sorry... it just sort of happened."

Ishilla, briefly swallowed up by Princess Kariel's presence, peeked out from behind her to say it. I was about to hold a tteokbokki party with the empire's one and only princess, and it just sort of happened felt a little light for the occasion, didn't it? Uh... so what was I supposed to do? I should at least greet her. Did that mean getting on my knees? Was this the sort of moment people meant when they talked about your brain short-circuiting? I stood there in a useless heap, unable to kneel, unable to bow, unable even to offer a hand.

"Ishilla, did you just call him Master?"

"Ah, I never explained properly. Yes. This is Sir Jinwoo, the Cooking Master from the East."

"Strange enough to find a Master in a place like this — and a Cooking Master, no less. Seems I failed to recognize someone of note."

Hold on. I was not following this conversation. Master? I was the Cooking Master of the East? In the brief moment I stood facing Princess Kariel, I tore back through my memories as if I were hunting a mouse. And I found it. Opening day of the shop — the memory of telling Ishilla to call me Master...!

No, that... by Master I had only meant the owner of a restaurant. But in this world's common sense, a Master appeared to mean someone who had fully mastered a field: Sword Master, Guild Master, Blacksmith Master. The definition wasn't so different from modern Earth's, except that this world genuinely had people who split the sky and dropped meteors. How tremendous would someone have to be, to still be called Master among monsters like that? Which brought me to the point. Without knowing it, I had gone and declared myself the greatest culinary monster in history.

"A Cooking Master from the East — then of course you wouldn't know the etiquette. Don't worry about it. Honestly, I don't fuss over that sort of thing myself."

"Pardon? Ah, thank you, Your Highness. My name is Kang Jinwoo."

"Mm. I'm the princess of the Aethernia Empire. Kariel Ardia von Imperium. Good to meet you."

"The honor is mine. But I think there's one misunderstanding."

"Hm? What's that?"

"I'm not a Master."

Princess Kariel's manner of speaking, and her attitude, were nothing like what I had expected. She didn't reach for stiff, old-fashioned words; if anything, she was frank and plain, and that left an impression. Maybe that was why I'm not a Master came out more easily than it might have. I had never dreamed Ishilla had been misunderstanding me this way. Duke Kailan's first meeting with me, and Arthur's, suddenly made sense. How they had known my name and come looking, and why, nobles though they were, they had treated me oddly well. Ishilla must have introduced me to them as the Cooking Master of the East.

I couldn't let the misunderstanding grow any further. Ishilla alone had gone on believing it for months. Of course, announcing at this late date that I was not a Master could turn dangerous. I had lied even to Duke Kailan, afraid of being accused of slighting a noble and suffering for it — and this was a princess. How much worse could it be? And yet, precisely because she was the empire's noble princess, I had to tell the truth. With Duke Kailan, it was already past the point of fixing. With the princess, I could still brazen it out if I did it now. She hadn't even tasted my food yet. If not this moment, there would be no moment left to come clean.

At my flat denial that I was a Master, Ishilla answered in surprise.

"What? Back then you clearly asked me to call you Master."

"No, that's true, but..."

"Being modest? You don't have to. I don't know what you've prepared, but the smell... it's practically violent. I believe in you."

"Oh, come on. You say you believe in me, so why won't you believe a word I actually say?"

Why was it that I, Kang Jinwoo, could never be happy? Just as Princess Kariel had said, soup tteokbokki was boiling away in the kitchen right now, the aroma exploding off it. Which meant there was no time left to talk the misunderstanding down. I would finish the tteokbokki first, and speak again right before they ate. I turned toward the kitchen in a fluster, and Eilenna, woken by the commotion on the first floor, came down the side stairs.

"Haaahm... Jinwoo, what's going on? Oh. That girl is...?"

"Perfect timing. Lady Eilenna, could you show our guests in? I'll just finish the cooking and be right back!"

"W-wait?? All of a sudden?"

Perfect timing, Eilenna! I left the guests in her hands and made for the kitchen. She had only just woken, face still puffy with sleep, and I had dumped the whole shift on her. But I had no choice. Was I supposed to let the tteokbokki scorch onto the pot?

Not a chance.

I snatched up a ladle and stirred the tteokbokki hard. Fortunately it hadn't stuck to the bottom, and the broth had thickened to just the right body. That looked about done. Just to be sure, I tasted it for a final seasoning.

Slurp—

"Kkhh, that's the stuff."

Spicy, sweet, salty. The three peaks of stimulation, joined by a savory anchovy base, sharp chili powder, and green onion... what came together was a supreme broth I wanted to pick up, bowl and all, and drink. People were always tossing things into tteokbokki — sweet rice punch, cola, whatever came to hand. Not that any of that was bad, but the true heart of tteokbokki was only one thing. MSG. An overwhelming quantity of MSG. A single spoon of beef stock powder, or of pure MSG, and every flavor woke up.

Of course, MSG was the very peak of modern food science. There was no way a medieval fantasy world would have such a thing.

But I do.

After everything that had happened, I had started to find that status window suspicious... and still, the effect was undeniable. Not so much as a pinch of beef stock powder had gone in, and yet a broth this deep, this overflowing with umami, had come into being. I waved the window aside, meaning to finish the dish. Then a sentence I saw every day, and had never much thought about, caught my eye on a single word.

Now ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that I think of it, the status window said Master-level skill too, didn't it?

I had taken that line for a stock bit of flattery. But once I understood the chain of misunderstandings, the short sentence read differently than before. I didn't really know what Master-level skill was supposed to be. Food is a relative thing. One person calls cheap noodles the greatest meal there is; another says the same of a course that costs hundreds for a single sitting. I had no wish to belittle the effort I had piled up, and even less wish to inflate it. But if the measure of cooking skill differed from person to person, kitchen to kitchen, dish to dish, then maybe it was all right to call myself a Master-level cook in at least some domain.

Thinking that, I felt a little easier. It wasn't the world's recognition. It was self-justification by way of a status window.

Yeah, and? It tastes good, doesn't it.

At least where this tteokbokki was concerned, I was a Master of this world. I soaked the boiled eggs thoroughly in the broth and ladled the tteokbokki into a large bowl.

"Ishilla. How did you come to know that chef, anyway?"

"Um... by chance, on the way to my hometown?"

"That's a little thin. Your reactions lately, too... is there something you're upset with me about, Ishilla?"

"Ngh, it's not that. I'm just tired."

I carried the tteokbokki out and looked toward the table, where the girls, in the full bloom of their years, were talking. Ishilla's answers were subtly lukewarm. So there was some grievance there after all. Eilenna sat wearing an expression that said, plain as day, why am I stuck in the middle of this... Ishilla's closed-off reply had cut the conversation off into an awkward silence. All three of them sat stiff and distant, the uncomfortable air just about to spill over, when—

Thud—!

I set the great bowl of soup tteokbokki down on the table.

"Uh... that's not the boiled chicken?"

"Wait, you can actually eat this? It's so red."

"J-Jinwoo. This is all right, isn't it?"

A palate still dull from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠having just woken. A small discord sprung up between friends. And the food that would put an end to the misunderstanding that I was a Master. The look of it, something they had never seen in their lives, might frighten them — but if they would only taste it...

"Please, try it first. This is soup tteokbokki."

A clean, sharp heat that would wipe away tears, a running nose, and even that unsettled feeling. The very pinnacle of spicy, salty, and sweet — soup tteokbokki revealed itself before them.