Chapter 66: French Onion Soup

Chapter 66:
French Onion Soup

She ordered otherworldly booze whenever she swung by the restaurant. She’d done that since she was young, and it was how she liked to enjoy the Restaurant to Another World.

Her name was Bridgette. She was both a heavy drinker and a high priestess who served the Lord of Light. Since youth, she’d sent countless liches to the afterlife and had even become known as the Dwarf Killer.

In the evening, Bridgette finished her nutritious dinner and then watched the women of the monastery return to their rooms for the night. After making sure everyone was indoors, she headed for the monastery head’s private training ground and stepped through the magical door that appeared there.

***

Bridgette glanced around the room, bells ringing in her ears. She saw a western warrior enjoying some chicken with his drink, an old female dwarf who liked fish—and drank as heavily as Bridgette—and the great sage from the Kingdom, dining on his usual pork loin cutlet with some ale.

Bridgette checked to see whether her drinking partner was there.

Hmph. I guess not.

She didn’t know whether they simply hadn’t come in that night or if they’d already gone home. Either way, it was too bad.

There were hardly any customers at this time of the evening—not that the restaurant was ever really that busy. Still, it was nice and quiet in the dining room with only the hushed sounds of a handful of visitors eating their meals.

It’s fine. This is cozy in its own way.

Bridgette thought there was something enjoyable about drinking with a friend she could let her guard down around. However, she was also fond of having a drink on her own. She claimed a clean, open table for herself and sat.

As soon as she did, a weathered-looking old man with intense energy appeared. He was the restaurant’s master, and he wanted to know what Bridgette would be drinking.

“Welcome! Ready to order?”

Bridgette decided to go with otherworldly grape alcohol and the master’s choice of side order.

“Umm, I’ll start with wine. Right now, I’m in the mood for white. Any finger foods are fine with me.”

“Aye! You got it.” The master considered what appetizer to serve with Bridgette’s drink. He seemed to have something in mind. “I’m thinkin’ it’s time to bust out those sardines I just got in.” He returned to the back.

It didn’t take him long to reappear in front of her. He put down a glass with a single slender stem. It was full of transparent yellow liquid—white grape alcohol. Next to the glass was a small piece of hard bread topped with fish and white cheese.

Bridgette nodded in satisfaction. “Mmm. This is good.”

She wiped her hands with the warm cloth the master handed her and then picked up the wine glass.

As she brought it to her lips, the wine’s fruity aroma drifted to her nose, and the alcohol’s ever-so-slightly sweet and sour flavor washed down her throat.

Bridgette reached for the side dish she’d ordered. She enjoyed the savory flavor of the fish and its oil, as well as the soft cheese’s taste and mouthfeel. She took another sip of wine with the fish’s aftertaste still in her mouth and then let out a long sigh—proving that the combination was amazing and the wine’s flavor spectacular.

Bridgette had already eaten her dinner that evening, so another menu item would have been too much food. Instead, she prioritized the restaurant’s delicious, exclusive alcohol over its meals. If she wanted to eat something while she drank, she typically ordered light foods, like salted beans or vegetable sticks.

“Master, I’ll be making my next order. Could I get some sake, please? I think that this side dish would pair wonderfully with cold sake.”

After enjoying the grape-flavored alcohol known as wine, Bridgette ordered liquor made from a western crop called “rice.” Its fruity aroma was completely different from the wine and went superbly with fish.

“Aye! You got it. But don’t drink too much! You’ll get sick.”

The master offered a warning as he brought the drink over.

“As long as I only get one chance to drink every week, I simply can’t help myself. But I’ll take caution. This might be hard to believe, but I actually drink less now than before—maybe because of how delicious the drinks here are,” Bridgette joked.

There was truth in her words. As a former heavy drinker, Bridgette considered alcohol the one luxury she let herself fall into entirely. Lately, however, she found herself drinking less and less, except when invited to a party or banquet.

Delicious drinks became tastier the longer one waited. After realizing that simple truth, Bridgette began holding herself back, avoiding cheap alcohol so that she could better enjoy her time once a week.

“Gotcha,” the master replied with a somewhat relieved smile. “In that case, have a blast.”

“I will.” Bridgette smiled back and resumed drinking.

This is marvelous. Alcohol is truly the greatest blessing bestowed upon humanity.

Moments like this made Bridgette grateful from the bottom of her heart that she wasn’t part of the Ascetic Sect.

***

Bridgette had heard that the Ascetic Sect was a group of believers who hated the current pope.

The pope was charged with teaching and guiding priests and priestesses of the Lord of Light, the deity who’d defeated the dark lord worshiped by demons across the continent. Even now, the Ascetic Sect believed in suppressing all their desires. They focused on lives of training, totally ignorant of the mortal world’s joys.

When the current pope was only a high priest who traveled the land with other heroes, the Ascetic Sect was the main branch of the Lord of Light’s followers. Bridgette found that hard to believe. She’d gone through the year-long Acceptance Ritual, and joined the Acceptance Sect, long after the current pope defeated the dark lord and became the Lord of Light’s representative.

Bridgette had heard that the Ascetic Sect still held a heavy grudge, and that they were raising talented children to become high priests and priestesses, preparing for the day the pope passed on.

Now then…

Bridgette drank by herself for a while, enjoying the other world’s alcohol and then considered ending the day’s adventure. After a number of top-ups on her drink, she made her usual order.

“I think it’s about time I return home, Master. Might I bother you for a bowl of French onion soup?”

The master nodded.

“Of course! It’ll take a little bit… Is that okay?”

“Absolutely. No hurry, since I’ll be drinking this in the meantime.”

Bridgette raised her glass of brown whiskey, clear ice floating on the surface. After her usual back-and-forth with the master, she took her time enjoying the final drink of the evening.

Finishing the alcohol, Bridgette put her glass down. At almost the exact same time, the master placed her bowl on the table.

“Sorry about the wait. Here’s your French onion soup.”

In the white bowl, a single piece of cheese-topped bread sat within a brown soup filled with oranie. Bridgette had ordered this soup to close out her evening of drinking.

Time to indulge.

Careful not to touch the hot bowl, Bridgette reached for her sparkling clean, silver spoon. She dipped the spoon into the soup, avoiding the oranie, and brought it back up with only broth inside.

The liquid’s rich brown color wasn’t cloudy in the least. A wonderful aroma wafted to Bridgette’s nose. The soup she drank from the spoon traveled all through her dehydrated body.

I can feel it washing over me.

The broth flowed over Bridgette’s tongue. The taste of the countless meats and vegetables in the savory soup wasn’t unpleasant in the least.

This single spoonful of broth was more delicious than any feast Bridgette had taken part in during her year of Acceptance. As the soup’s flavor and warmth made direct contact with her body’s depths, the sensation put a smile on her face.

Bridgette had her own way of enjoying French onion soup. She appreciated the broth on its own first.

Then she made sure that the next spoonful included a wealth of oranie. The oranie slices were tender, having absorbed the broth.

The second Bridgette brought the spoon to her mouth, the savory taste of the oranie and the soup melted together. Both ingredients disappeared into her stomach, leaving tremendous flavor on her tongue. Once again, she sighed with satisfaction.

Having enjoyed the soup, it was finally time to turn her attention to what she felt was the star of the dish—the single piece of melted-cheese-topped bread.

The bread had already absorbed a great deal of broth, making it soft to the touch and easy to cut with a spoon. In fact, it had turned nearly the same color as the soup it floated on, contrasting nicely with the melted yellow cheese.

As Bridgette brought the bread to her mouth and chewed, soup burst from within.

The flavors of the amazing soup, soft bread, and cheese combined to offer Bridgette what could only be described as the flavor to end all flavors.

Bridgette sometimes felt as though she drank alcohol specifically so she could follow it with this experience.

Ah! This is wonderful. This is how you wrap up a night of drinking.

Her final spoonful of soup signaled the end of her evening. Bridgette paid the master and left.

Exiting the bright restaurant, she returned to the dark monastery.

Careful not to stumble on her way back to her room, she thought, One day, I’ll have to entrust that door to my successor.

Although Bridgette still looked young, she was actually getting up there in years. Whether she was promoted or simply retired, the time would eventually come for another high priest or priestess to take her place as head of the monastery.

Well, no point in thinking about that now.

As Bridgette returned to her room, she was filled with curiosity about how her successor would handle the door.

***

This occurred some ten years before her successor, Celestine, came along and took Bridgette’s place.