CHAPTER 1 Breaking Bread the Otherworld Way

[42ND DAY]

As adventurers, we didn’t necessarily explore the dungeon every single day. Our work depended on our ryviuses, the magical devices a pioneering adventurer long before us had developed. They consumed the internal magic found within all living beings to heal wounds and normally took about two days to be fully restored. The same went for our external magic reserves, the energy we needed to conjure any kind of spell. Herein lay our latest problem.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Lana lamented back in our tent at camp.

“Why should you apologize? We never could’ve taken that colossus down if you hadn’t been there. Take your time and rest up.”

Lana’s external magic vial refused to refill. A whole day had passed since we’d returned from the dungeon, but her ryvius remained stubbornly clear, totally empty. All elves were susceptible to this. As a race, they enjoyed a remarkable propensity for mage work, usually boasting double the external magic capacity of most other races. Lana had triple.

But that came with a downside: Their mana reserves replenished themselves much slower than other races’. And as I’d learned this time around, if they ran their magic completely dry, that recovery process took even longer. We’d planned a two-day break, but at this rate, we might have to leave Lana behind on our next expedition. No one could deny her flamecraft packed an insane amount of power—it was a straight-up knockout punch. But that alone wouldn’t get us past every obstacle the dungeon had in store. If only it were that easy.

Trying to push through five floors and make it to the next portal in one go was a suicide mission. We had to first map everything out, take stock of potential enemies, and plan a logical route. For this part, at least, we wouldn’t necessarily have to rely on her firepower.

“Please don’t look so down. It’s not the end of the world,” I reassured her.

“But…”

“We won’t have any trouble scoping the floors out without you.”

“That’s what bothers me.”

Ahh, she doesn’t want to be left out, huh?

“Anyway, let’s take it easy today. C’mon, we can put a movie on. A nice one.” I laid Lana down, rolled up a blanket and propped it up behind her, then fished my tablet out of a corner of the tent. “What are you in the mood for?”

I pulled up our huge database of films. It had belonged to one of my lost squad members.

“A Chaplin title, please.”

“You got it.”

I got to searching for one she hadn’t seen yet when she told me, “I’d like to see The Great Dictator.”

“Coming right up,” I said, and started screening The Great Dictator for the sixth time. She gave me a subtle invitation to sit next to her. We each held up one corner of the tablet.

This looked a lot like something. Our marriage existed on paper only, but I could imagine someone peeking in on us and mistaking it for the real thing. I suddenly got kind of nervous.

“Um…y-you really love this one, don’t you, Lana?”

“I like to study the way he raises his tone or pauses while delivering his speeches. It gives me tricks I can use while casting spells,” she explained.

“Wait, really?”

“My master used to say that magic, stripped down to its most basic definition, is essentially acting. We pray to the gods for miracles with flowery, eloquent language and try to mold our voices and expressions to their liking.”

Does that mean mages in this dimension fall on the liberal arts side of things? I’d pegged them as more STEM minded.

“I prayed a little too passionately this last time, so I came close to breaking the covenant I have with my god and falling into a deep coma,” Lana admitted. “I’ll be more careful going forward.”

“Please do. Pay especially close attention to the toll it takes on your body.”

“I’ll do what I can.” So you’re not gonna give me a yes, are you? Overachievers can be a handful.

After the opening credits, scenes of trench warfare began to play, accompanied by the subtitles and annotations Machina had added. Having read them five times already, Lana understood pretty much everything going on. Personally, I preferred observing her as she watched the movie over following the on-screen action. I gazed a little too intensely at her. She felt me staring. Our eyes met. Our hands brushed against each other. Our faces naturally drew so close, we could feel each other’s breath graze our cheeks. It was still morning, but we finally stepped up to that line and—

“Whatcha up to, you guys?”

—got totally blocked.

Éa burst into the tent, scrambled to take off her boots, and squeezed herself right in between Lana and me. “Is this the dude with the tiny mustache again? I wanna see Mifune.”

“Not today,” Lana refused. “I want to watch this one.”

“Boooo!”

The sisters snuggled up, pressing their shoulders and cheeks together. Éa brazenly draped her bare legs over my lap.

Y-yeah, I guess this isn’t so bad, either. Is it really okay for me to be here, too? I’m not gonna drop dead tomorrow or anything, am I?

As I ruminated on these anxieties and blessings—

“Otherworlder, you in?”

—I heard hoofbeats and a voice.

Who the hell dares disturb my precious cuddle time?!

“Hellooo!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!”

Reluctantly, I stepped out of the tent and found a man astride a horse. A patch covered his left eye, and nothing about him, neither his shield nor his sword nor his armor nor even his body, looked brand-new. This middle-aged, battle-hardened adventurer by the name of Medîm was otherwise known as the Father of Adventurers. Most people called him Pops.

“Got a minute?”

“No. I’m extremely busy.” I wanted to spend the entire day nestling with these elven sisters. We’d just finished a grueling expedition. I deserved a treat.

“You don’t say? Come.” Guess he disagreed.

“Is this mandatory?”

“Aye.” Then why did you even ask me in the first place?

Lana and Éa popped out of the tent, perhaps a little worried about me.

“I’m borrowing him,” Pops informed the ladies. Paying no mind to their whines of protest, he dragged me up onto his steed with him. One second, I was sitting next to two beautiful elven sisters; the next, I was riding a horse with some middle-aged dude. The oddly sized saddle hurt my butt.

“I heard you made it to the tenth floor,” he noted.

“Yes, we did. It wasn’t easy, though.”

“Since you lot took care of the Skeleton King, adventurers get to sail through to the tenth floor for the next two days. Stop by the bar now and I bet they’ll be clamoring to buy you a drink.”

Was that how it worked? Now it made sense. Lana and Éa had been down to the tenth floor before, but I was pretty sure they hadn’t yet fought the skeletal soldiers.

“So what do you need me for, Pops?”

“The king has collapsed. I need your help.”

---

This was just my personal opinion, but the only reason the Kingdom of Remlia (where the Tower of Legions lay) functioned at all was their ruler’s peaceful reign. Countless adventurers dreamed of emulating his origin story, one that told how a man who had started with nothing but the clothes on his back and a single sword ended up ruling an entire nation. The weight of his personal brand constantly brought explorers from far and wide to his domain.

And not to dwell on an impertinent topic, but what would happen if such a renowned figure bit the dust? Though King Remlia was indeed an astute sovereign, history has shown us time and time again that wise parents do not necessarily beget wise offspring. The firstborn prince had apparently been quite accomplished, but his death had passed the right of succession down to his younger brother, the absolute epitome of everything stupid. If he ever took the throne, all hell would break loose—no question. You didn’t have to try very hard to hear people griping about him in every corner of town.

People in positions of authority never had an easy time shaking free of a bad reputation, but the prince didn’t have a single clue how much his subjects detested him. It must take a special kind of genius to be that impervious to hatred directed at you—to be what the rest of the world calls a dense idiot. He was a coward, a dirty politician, a sexual predator, and entirely bereft of regal manners—or at least that’s how his older sister put it. Personally, I’d probably sign up for a rebellion if he ever got hold of the royal reins, too. He would unquestionably come for me at some point, so it would be better to strike first.

Tensions brewing in the Heuress Forest, where Lana and Éa had grown up, complicated matters even further. Citizens of the Kingdom of Remlia regarded elves who hailed from there as enemies because of a war that had broken out between the two neighbors. As an Otherworlder, I had no way of judging which party had been in the wrong. I wouldn’t dream of expressing an opinion on it.

The elves seemed to have a lot on their plates, too. The grip that the ruling Heuress Clan needed to unite its people grew weaker by the day. Everyone could see this would eventually result in bloodshed. If a civil war broke out among them, the sparks of unrest would almost certainly find their way to the Kingdom of Remlia.

The only thing keeping all these moving pieces in a delicate balance was King Remlia himself. It would be a total pain in the ass if he died. I needed him to hang on for at least another year.

“But why did you come to me for that?” I asked Pops as we arrived at the castle.

“You healed Princess Éa, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t press you on that.”

Now that’s some aged wisdom right there. He’s a pro at keeping the perfect distance. But I didn’t treat Éa—that was my partner, whom I brought to this world with me.

“Lord Souya!”

A maid rushed at me as soon as we stepped inside the palace. A beastmaid with silver hair and pointed ears. I felt relieved to see she’d lost the eye patch and didn’t have any scars left.

“I’m terribly sorry for calling you on such short notice,” she apologized. “I understand you were in between expeditions, but you must have had many other matters to attend to.”

“Actually, he didn’t look busy at all to me,” opined Pops.

“I was incredibly busy!” I insisted. Stay outta this, old man. Don’t you see how lounging around with two beauties is urgent business?!

“I do hope you’ll forgive the imposition. After our healer determined this a lost cause, I was at my wits’ end,” Lanceil explained, her ears apologetically lowered.

Lanceil was King Remlia’s illegitimate child. The monarchs of this world all treated beastfolk as second-class citizens. Part of the blame for that lay with a beastman who, ages and ages ago, had once ruled the race as king of the beasts. Because of this, Lanceil had no legal claim to the throne even though she was a direct descendent of Remlia. In fact, she was treated as nothing more than a chambermaid. And yet, after all that, she remained devoted to her father and cared for his well-being. Honestly, I didn’t hate that about her.

“I doubt I’ll be of any help, but I’ll do what I can. Just don’t get your hopes up too high.”

“Thank you!” Her tail wagged furiously beneath her skirt. Her hopes were totally up. This didn’t look good. An external wound or something like a simple infectious disease I could probably handle, but not even Machina would be able to treat diseases endemic to this world, cancers, or anything afflicting his organs. That being said, I couldn’t judge either way without first checking him out.

She led me to her father’s private chamber. Pops waited out in the hall.

“If you’ll excuse the intrusion, Your Majesty. Lord Souya has come to call on you,” Lanceil announced.

The king lay recumbent and ill on his bed. He was bald, and though his physique was as stately as ever, his face nevertheless failed to mask how unwell he felt. The pungent smells of all the medicine piled up in the room and assaulted my nose.

“Right. Forgive me, Souya, for pulling you away from your work.”

“Please don’t concern yourself. It’s no trouble at all; I happened to have some free time.” You can’t exactly complain to a monarch, after all. “I’m afraid I don’t have much expertise to share, but I hope to be of a little help.”

“Aye, as do I—or so I’d like to say, but I am no young lad. I expect this is a sign I’ve reached the end of the road, rather than an illness. Do not blame yourself if there is nothing for it,” he responded, resigned.

“Machina, help me out here,” I whispered to her through my glasses, then began the examination.

“If you’ll excuse the prying questions, Your Majesty, might I ask you to describe your symptoms for me?”

“Aye. Last year, must have been after the war with the elves, I started to feel numbness and pain in my arms and legs,” he recounted. “I’d thought it a consequence of fatigue, but the sensations never relented, and now I struggle to merely lift myself out of bed.”

“Do you only feel pain in your limbs?”

“No, it’s all over.”

“How is your appetite?”

“Dismal.”

“I hate to ask, but have you had any difficulty urinating? Or have you experienced diarrhea?”

“Aye.”

“I’m going to examine you directly. Pardon my fingers.” I touched his leg. It felt swollen.

“Please tell me if you feel any pain.” I took out a pen and jabbed it rather forcefully into his big toe. “Does that hurt?”

“Not particularly.”

Coincidentally enough, I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what afflicted the king. This same disease was relatively well known to Japanese people.

“Would you please rise and sit up? Lanceil, give me a hand.”

The two of us nudged the king over to the edge of the bed. After having him hang both legs over the side, I tapped his knees a few times. A healthy person’s legs would have reflexively kicked up in response, but his didn’t budge.

Convinced beyond a doubt, I declared, “You have beriberi.”

“My analysis confirms these symptoms are ninety-eight percent consistent with beriberi,” Machina reported, stamping her seal of approval on my diagnosis.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” I began. Lanceil’s face fell, showing her despondency. “But may I borrow your kitchen? I can treat this illness.”

Her despair turned instantly to joy.

---

Beriberi is a neurological disorder caused by thiamine deficiency. Symptoms first afflict the peripheral nerves in the limbs and can eventually cause the heart to malfunction, inducing death. It once essentially reached epidemic status in Japan.

Lanceil showed me a copy of the king’s dietary regimen, confirming my suspicions. Every single day the king partook in lavish, sugar-packed sweets and excessive amounts of oil and salt, a holdover habit from his previous life as an adventurer. The unbalanced diet suggested that he might be a picky eater. And on top of that, it seemed he’d resorted to drinking away his worries until the wee hours, night after night.

Metabolizing sugar drains the body’s stores of thiamine, and it also needs large amounts of the nutrient to metabolize alcohol. However, it’s not especially difficult to replenish. Of the foods available in this realm, one could easily find it in wheat, pork, and beans. Pork in particular had loads of the stuff. All the more ironic, then, that the ruler of the Kingdom of Remlia, whose most famous products included dungeon pork, would find himself suffering from beriberi. All blame for the onset of this malady rested on his unbalanced diet, sweet tooth, and stress-induced drinking.

Standing in the palace kitchen we’d cleared of everyone else, I took stock of the array of cookware, dishes, and utensils. I’d expected more from what would grace the royal dining table, but nothing really dazzled me. I did, however, gaze enviously at the huge, useful-looking stove, the large cutting boards, and a few other accoutrements.

Now. “Machina, what ingredients should we go with?” I asked my AI partner.

“Pork would be the most efficient choice,” she suggested.

“Lanceil, does His Highness eat pork?” I hadn’t seen it come up once on the list of meals she’d shown me.

“No, he won’t tolerate it. His Majesty is a good-natured man, but once, when our chef finely minced some pork and added it to a soup, the king flipped over the bowl and flew into a rage.” Though it was a closely held secret, a dungeon boar had apparently once grabbed him by the cape and flung him around.

That doesn’t help. Thiamine dissolves in water, so a simple soup would’ve been the easiest way to pump it into him.

“Maybe I could whip up a pot of soup à la Mythlanica with some soybeans,” I offered.

“His Majesty detests beans as well,” Lanceil informed me.

Hmm, what should I make? Would the wheat wraps work?

As I racked my brain for ideas, Machina gave me another recommendation. “You could always turn to supplements.”

“Right. But I’ve already gone and borrowed the kitchen. I want to have something to show for it.”

“Lord Souya, who have you been speaking with?” asked Lanceil.

To an outsider, it must have looked as though I were talking to myself, so I explained. “My glasses. The fairy who lives in them gives me advice.”

“I see! Of course you’d have something so wonderful!” she marveled, both hands clasped before her chest. I got the sense her evaluation of me had shot up. With expectations that high, I felt pretty sure my stock would plummet to the lowest depths of hell if I ever failed to meet that standard.

Putting that aside, I got back to strategizing. “Any other ingredients here high in thiamine?” I put to Machina.

“If we exclude pork and beans from consideration, the remaining locally available sources of thiamine include whole-wheat flour, chicken liver, chili peppers, raisins, garlic, and sesame. However, none of these contain even half the amount of thiamine found in pork.”

“Lanceil, does the king ever have beastfolk bread?”

“It would be disrespectful to serve His Majesty such common fare.”

“Hmm…”

“Mr. Souya, there is one more source filled with plentiful concentrations of the vitamin in question, though it is not of this world.”

Once I heard Machina’s idea, a wave of worry that Éa would throw a tantrum hit me, but I decided to go with it anyway.

---

Lanceil and I hopped on a horse and rode back to camp together. Éa found me grabbing what I’d come for and put up an enormous fuss, but I somehow managed to talk her down and headed back to the castle.

“So what is this, exactly?” Lanceil inquired. “Given Éa’s reaction, I presume it must be extremely valuable.”

“Instant ramen.” Salt flavor, to be exact. I’d removed it from its original packaging to make it look home-cooked.

Surprisingly enough, instant ramen comes chock-full of thiamine. Not too long ago, a large swath of young people who subsisted mainly on instant meals and juice boxes had come down with beriberi. Manufacturing companies evidently took the lesson seriously and, eager to rid themselves of the bad publicity, had started adding copious amounts of thiamine to their products.

“It’s super easy to make. All you do is add these noodles and the powder in this bag to a pot of boiling water and wait until this hourglass empties. That’s all,” I explained.

“Huh? Can it really be that simple?” She sounded incredulous.

The ramen would look a little plain without any toppings, so I garnished it with some chicken simmered in oil and medicinal shoots. And so it was done, quick as a flash. Now onward to the dining hall. I’d originally planned to bring the king’s meal to his chambers, but driven by what I can only assume was his sense of royal etiquette, he’d dragged his feeble body out of bed and ventured over to the dining hall.

He sat at the head of a long dining table in the spacious room, with Pops sitting not too far away. Some middle-aged guy I didn’t recognize joined them at the table as well. Well dressed and stout, he looked nothing like your typical adventurer. Besides the men at the table, a whole host of maids also stood in lines around the chamber. The solemn mood felt more than a bit over the top for a bowl of ramen.

“Thank you for your patience, Your Majesty,” Lanceil announced as she placed the bowl before the king along with a fork and spoon. Ah, I forgot to prepare a drink.

“Just a moment, Lanceil,” cut in the unfamiliar chap. “I understand this man here is an Otherworlder—one married to an elf at that. Do you honestly think it wise to present fare from his hands before His Majesty?”

“Absolutely. I have complete confidence in Lord Souya,” she responded without hesitation. The fellow glared back at her.

“Can anyone vouch for the accuracy of your assessment, beastmaid?”

“I can,” Pops snarled, his face tight with fury. The menacing threat lacing his voice left the man trembling.

“B-but, Lord Medîm—”

“Hand it over. I’ll test it for poison myself.” The grizzled adventurer dragged the bowl of ramen toward him, then swallowed a spoonful of the broth. He furrowed his brows. “Hmm, I sense notes of sweetness in this salt-flavored broth. It’s curiously addictive. How very interesting. Personally, I’d have welcomed a bit more heat.”

That’s great, but I didn’t make it for you.

“Are these thin, long bits made from kneaded wheat?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s the main ingredient in them.”

Pops fished and stretched out some noodles with his fork, let some broth drain from them, then huffed and puffed as he placed them in his mouth. He chewed in silence.

“I see……” He went to put down his fork—but changed course and dug into the bowl once more.

“…?!” The king started, flabbergasted. But Pops didn’t stop at the noodles; he popped medicinal shoots in his mouth and even dug into the chicken.

“Is this rabbit?”

“Precisely.” It was actually poultry, but I’d decided to pass it off as rabbit due to a series of complicated, bizarre circumstances.

“Where did you buy it?” Pops inquired. “Not many shops carry it.”

“I caught it myself.”

“How much do you want for it?”

“It’s not for sale.” My little sister would kill me.

“Well, we can quibble over the details later. I’d like to have seen a greater variety of vegetables on top. I get that we all need ’em but loads of adventurers have grown tired of medicinal shoots. I can see sautéed roots or fried garlic pairing well with this, too. And it’d be better with more meat. Not bad, all in all, even without the added novelty factor.” There you have it, ladies and gents: the Father of Adventurers’ official ramen review.

For his final act, he took the bowl in both hands and drained every last drop of the soup. “Somebody get me an ale.”

“Medîm…you’re supposed to taste it for poison, not devour the whole thing!” the king rebuked him. He had a point. I’m sorry for your loss.

“Lanceil, could you whip up another bowl for us?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll see to it at once.” She bounded happily out of the dining hall at my request.

“Souya, did Lanceil make that?” the king asked, his face awash with amazement.

“Yes. I provided the ingredients and instructed her on how to prepare it, but she took care of the rest.”

His eyes still trained on me, the king punched Pops in the side. It made a nice whack for someone in a theoretically weakened state. Medîm winced but forced out, “As you can see, Lord Chancellor, this young man is no knave trying to murder us with poison. Do you mean to stick around and nitpick the rest of us to death?”

“I—I think I’ll take my leave.” He petulantly scuffled out of the room.

I waited until I could no longer hear his footsteps, then asked Pops, “So who was that?”

“An Ellusionese marquis and adviser to our country—a nagging, pain-in-the-ass chancellor, if you will,” he filled me in. “Ever since Remlia took to his sickbed, the marquis has been strutting around the palace like he owns the place. Gods only know what rotten thoughts he’s got festering in that decrepit brain of his.”

“Enough, Medîm,” chided King Remlia. “He holds tremendous sway in our allied nation.”

“All right, all right.”

Oof, politicians have it rough. Definitely don’t wanna mess with that, or I’ll have bigger problems than the dungeon to worry about. Better finish up the work in front of me before anything else.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, but I must ask you to refrain from drinking any alcohol for the time being. It’s one of the most significant causes of your illness. If you feel the need for something sweet, try to make do with raisins. And if you’ll forgive the impertinent suggestion, I’d advise you add beastfolk bread and other such baked goods made with unrefined flour to your diet, as it will do wonders for your health. The illness afflicting you is, in essence, a disease of indulgence. You should recover as long as you make a concerted effort to keep your sustenance a little more modest.” The people of this world didn’t have any idea what vitamins were to begin with, so I didn’t even touch that part. “Also, you may find this unpleasant, but I strongly recommend you have some pork as well.”

“……I’ll consider it,” he begrudgingly conceded, every muscle in his face betraying how deeply he loathed the idea. I quickly read him a list of other thiamine–rich foods I suggested.

“I apologize for the wait, Your Majesty.” Lanceil carried a fresh, much tastier-looking bowl of soup to the king. I guess you can pour love into anything—even instant ramen.

“In that case, my liege, allow me to test it for—”

“Silence, Medîm,” the king cut Pops off, slapping his hand away.

“Souya, I might’ve asked sooner, but what exactly is this dish?”

In response to his question, I answered, “It’s a soup called ramen which first originated in a country called China. In the hundred years or so since it first arrived in my country, it’s been adapted in such a unique way that when people from its homeland taste our version now, they say, ‘This isn’t Chinese, is it?’ But leave the noodles too long and they’ll expand, so please go ahead.” With that brief explanation, I urged him to start his meal.

King Remlia willed his shaking hands to be still and began with a spoonful of the broth. A curious expression crossed his face, and a moment later he put his utensil to work in earnest, digging into the noodles as well. Since he had a hard time slurping them up, he slowly and gracefully carried them to his mouth instead. The king said not a word. Lanceil stole anxious glances at me. We watched overprotectively as he solemnly consumed his bowl. About six minutes later, “Your Highness, it’s best not to finish all the broth,” I warned.

“That so?” He ignored me. Unlike Pops, he elegantly scooped up every last bit of the broth rather than lift the entire dish.

“My. Someone bring me an ale,” he barked.

“No alcohol, remember? Someone bring him some black bean tea,” I overruled him. One of the maids bowed and excused herself from the room.

“Come now, Souya. Did you not say I’ll recover if I have enough of this? Then it stands to reason that I should be able to drink some ale if I eat even more, right?”

“That’s not how this works.” That It’s low calorie so I can have more no problem reasoning wouldn’t slide with me.

“It’s not, is it?” The king looked rather meek.

“Then I’ll have it in your stead,” offered Pops. “Someone, an ale.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?”

At least pretend to be considerate, will you?

[43RD DAY]

“Can you believe this, Ghett? Yaya took thirty cups of my ramen to give to the king! And he didn’t even charge for them!”

“Now hang on, those weren’t yours, were they?”

“What’s Yaya’s is mine!”

“Now if that isn’t some convenient logic.”

And so went the conversation between the merman in shades and Éa as they stomped in place. Beneath their feet was a blue tarp stretched over a plastic bag filled with flour, plus water and salt for kneading it. A wooden board lay under both.

Stomp, stomp, they went. Stomp, stomp. Stomp, stomp. Stomp, stomp.

Watching them work out of the corner of my eye, I continued my fierce battle with the fryer. It had already bested me once, so I steeled myself to give it all I had. I put some cold water and mayonnaise into a bowl, mixed it well, added flour, and roughly worked that in until the mixture was clumpy. With that, the breading was complete.

Now then, I thought, scowling at the large, oil-filled pot that stood bubbling over an open flame.

“Machina, what’s the temp on the oil?”

“It’s perfectly heated at one hundred and eighty degrees Celsius,” came the response from the cylindrical machine, aka Repaired Machina Unit, a sixth-generation artificial intelligence robot originally designed for space exploration. What might appear to the random observer as nothing more than a white barrel was in fact the pinnacle of scientific advancement. Only thing was, I’d apparently done such an awful job fixing her up that she could no longer recall her own model number, so I’d appended the Repaired for convenience’s sake. It seemed like she was restoring her functions every chance she got.

“Great. Let’s do this.”

Setting that aside, I covered an onion in the breading and dropped it into the oil. It sizzled nicely. Paying attention to the air bubbles that floated to the surface, I strained to listen for any changes. As soon as the sizzling took on a higher tone, about forty seconds in, I lifted it out of the pot.

“How’s it look?” I asked Machina.

“Wooow, that looks so tasty. Good job on the frying, Mr. Souya.”

“It’s all in the sounds. I’ve learned to hear how the sizzles change once it’s heated all the way through. By the way, how many points would you give it?”

“Thirty-five out of a hundred.” Damn, that’s low.

I fried a whole load of these thirty-five-point onions, lining them up on a clean cloth as I went. Next up, thinly sliced eggplant. These I let bob for a short while longer, just under a minute, before removing them from the pot.

“How about these?”

“Oh yes, wonderfully done. They’ve cooked all the way through.”

“And your score?”

“Twenty-eight points.” That’s even worse!

I mass-produced the twenty-eight-pointers and set them on the cloth. Next I tossed some watercress into the boiling pot. This proved rather challenging, but I gathered the separated pieces back up and somehow got them to stick together. You could eat these raw, so I pulled them out after thirty seconds.

“Machina, what about this one? The shape’s a bit funky, but—”

“Mr. Ghett, Lady Éa, you can stop nooow, that’s quite enooough.” These didn’t even get a consolation compliment.

While I finished frying the too-shabby-to-rate failures and adding them to the cloth, Machina removed the blue tarp and inspected the kneaded wheat.

“Excellent work. This will most certainly make some scrumptious dishes.”

“Wait, are you suuure? A merman had his webby feet all over it, you know.”

“Can that be right? An elf trampled all over it, you know.”

I scooped out the fried bits of loose breading and gathered them all in a bowl. Next, left to my own devices, I turned to my real adversary. I dunked the prepped shrimp in the breading, shaking it gently to get a thicker coat, then dropped one into the oil as a test. I poked at the still-soft breading with my chopsticks and pressed in any bits that looked close to breaking off. The shrimp sank and floated back to the surface; I kept a careful eye on it. After about a minute, I flipped it over, then watched some more. The bubbles rising to the surface shrank, and the sizzling sounded markedly more pronounced.

Now!

I swooped in and picked out the shrimp, its breaded coat now fully blossomed; its color was perfect. Onto the cloth went the little guy, a full mark in my book.

“Give it to me straight, Machina.”

“Oh, yes. Looks great,” came the perfunctory-sounding response. You’re gonna hurt my feelings, you know?

“Hmm, what do we have here?” A white hand reached over my shoulder, grabbed the shrimp, then quickly recoiled with it. “Ow! Hot! Mm, mm-mmm.”

Munching and crunching sounded right behind me. I tried to turn around, but the hands seized my head and stopped me. Once their grip relented, I looked back and saw a cat clinging to my leg. The golden-eyed, ash-gray cat resembled any other feline, but was in fact a fully fledged deity—my goddess.

“Not terrible,” she declared.

“Lady Mythlanica, steal any more while I’m cooking and you’ll get less on your dinner plate,” I warned her.

“I will not stand for such insolence from my disciples!”

“Ow, ouch!”

The tiny, tyrannical goddess ripped my pants by sharpening her claws on my leg. Meanwhile, Machina (horizontally) rolled over my way and slapped some kneaded dough on a cutting board. She folded and shaped the dough and, with a kitchen knife in one hand, divided it into equal pieces with exquisitely efficient and refined movements. Though obviously mechanical, her dexterous fingers evoked images of an expert artisan at work. She handled the dough with calculated yet not entirely unfeeling precision that even conveyed a sense of appreciation for the materials she held. I’d sort of gotten those vibes before, but damn, this bot knew her stuff.

“Mr. Souya, for whom do you believe meals are made?”

“Huh? Well, the people who eat them, right?” Her philosophical question had come out of left field.

“Precisely. But people much prefer the seventy-point stews their mothers make over professionally prepared ninety-point equivalents. Cooking is, in essence, a subjective form of love. One cannot put a number on that.”

Wha—? “What?” A bolt of lightning struck me—at least, that was the way I pictured it in my mind. Lady Mythlanica yelled, “Brace yourself!” and latched on to me again as I reeled. “How could I miss that?”

---

---

She’s exactly right. With enough love, even instant ramen can become a delicacy. Wait, maybe that’s just from the spices and seasonings. No—it’s love. It’s gotta be.

“I’m sorry, Machina. I’d lost sight of the fact that dishes are always perfect marks for the people who love them…… So what do you give this shrimp?”

“Twenty-one points.” Daaaaamn.

Vowing I’d abandon all pride and redouble my efforts, I plugged away at frying the remaining heap of twenty-one-point shellfish. Before long, it was all done.

“Machina, I’m leaving this part to you.”

“Roger!” She added the sliced pieces of dough to the boiling pot of water. I put Ghett’s portions into a crate and fixed it to an older drone model made for high-altitude observation; it looked much like a can of soda with propellers.

“Take it away.”

“Okaaay.” The drone flew up and up and soon became nothing more than a tiny speck.

“Bring it back down for me once it’s cooled off enough.”

“Yooou’ve got it!”

Now all that remained was the dipping sauce. I poured some soy sauce into another pot, dissolved granulated soup stock in that, and added a bit of mirin and sugar. Taste check—passed. I transferred the sauce into a small teapot before laying out our seasonings: grated ginger, roasted pine nuts, and pickled onions.

“Mr. Souya, they’re all boiled!”

“Gotcha.”

Grabbing a large multipurpose strainer I’d bought here, I left the kitchen with Machina, who was carrying the bubbling pot. We found a good spot and strained out the water, then shook it off a bit. After that, we headed back to camp and swished our creation in some cold water before divvying it up and plating each person’s share. I left the extra servings floating in the cool water.

The drone came back down. Knowing Ghett couldn’t eat anything hot, I double-checked the temperature: twelve degrees Celsius. Thanks to the cool air in the upper atmosphere that had instantly chilled it, all the fried pieces had stayed nice and crispy. Four days prior, Ghett had almost given himself a third-degree burn trying to eat something I’d fried. Now he and Éa sat next to each other at the table. She could barely contain herself as she waited. As for me, I headed into the tent to wake Lana.

“Lunch is ready,” I told her.

“Yaaawn.” She stared at me blankly, completely out of it. Lana always had a hard time waking up in the morning, but the battle had seemed extra arduous today. She lay lightly clothed in spandex shorts and a T-shirt, her plump bosom jostling with every move.

“If you’re not hungry, I can put some aside for you. Would you like that? Do you need to sleep a bit more?” I leaned in close.

“Yeaaah,” she answered drowsily, then wrapped her floppy arms around me, getting even closer.

“Wait, Mrs.—”

“Thank you sho much for eve…ry…thiiing……” She trailed off into sleep.

It was almost too much happiness to handle—or hold! I had to move on, so I took my urge to slide my hands up her shirt and shoved it down, down, down! ……All the way down—and lay her to rest. As consolation, I did give her belly a little rub. This in no way meant I was a chicken. I was simply a courteous gentleman. I left the tent.

“Where’s Lala?” asked Éa.

“She wanted to get some more sleep. D’you think using all her magic is affecting her rest?”

“Wooow, sooo lazy. I swear,” criticized the sister who was normally the lazier of the two.

Machina had already served Lana’s portion. I’d promised to save her a plate, but neither of the dishes in this meal stayed good for long. Same as always, I left Lady Mythlanica’s serving in a separate tent for her. Just then—

“Well, well, what an unusual group we have here. I’ve seen more than most in my years, but I’ve never come across a merman, an elf, and a heim sitting down to share a meal.”

“Huh?”

—Pops appeared, this time on foot. I couldn’t have told you when he’d gotten there. Maybe Machina hadn’t alerted me since she knew he didn’t pose a threat?

“Mr. Medîm, would you care to join us?”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do. That’s some unusual armor you’ve got there, young lady. Are you a dwarf? Well, not that it matters.” The locals referred to Machina as a dwarf. Apparently, the ones in this area wore similarly cylindrical armor.

“Perhaps it’s best I leave?” offered Ghett.

“Don’t even, Ghett. You own this land. If anyone’s got a problem with you, they can split,” insisted Éa, vetoing his polite attempt to avoid conflict.

Pops, taking his own seat at the table, agreed. “Lord Merman, I’d be happy to excuse myself if my presence makes you uncomfortable. I will take my share with me, though.”

“Then you might as well have it here.”

The three seemed to reach an accord, so we moved on to the main event.

“So what is this?” Pops asked.

“Right, allow me to provide a little background on the dishes we have before us today.”

“Make it quick!” Éa urged, driving a stake into my heart.

“I’d noticed there aren’t many noodle dishes available around here, so I tried my hand at homemade udon made from water, salt, and wheat—all-purpose flour. We mixed all the ingredients together, trod on and kneaded the dough into strips, then boiled those. I’ve rinsed them in cool water, so they shouldn’t be too hot. Éa and Ghett kindly lent us a foot.”

“It was actually pretty fun,” remarked Ghett.

“You had your feet on these?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, Pops. We made sure to put a protective sheet in between, so it’s entirely hygienic,” I assured him.

“That right? I mean, not that it’d bother me.” We’re not making wine here. No way I’d let bare feet touch this.

“Dip the noodles about halfway into this sauce before you eat them,” I explained. “If you want to try the seasonings, add a little at a time so you can enjoy the subtle changes in flavor.” Machina poured the dipping sauce into little bowls and passed them around.

“Lastly, we have tempura, a deep-fried dish battered in a solution of water and flour. As for varieties, we have onion, eggplant, elven toothbrushing cabbage—watercress—and shrimp from the Maudubaffle Ocean. The vegetables are incredibly fresh, delivered straight from the farm today, and the shrimp which Ghett caught first thing this morning are a true delicacy. Though deceptively simple, this dish requires tremendous practice to master; it takes at least ten years to even reach the starting line. From there, it’s practice and training until the day you die.”

(Cut for brevity.)

“Unfortunately, I do not have the skills to come close to replicating the true taste of tempura. Although I did my best, I can’t say my work would earn a passing grade. Nevertheless! I assure you that the flavor will not leave you wanting. And how could it, with such high-quality ingredients?! The tempura you can enjoy with simply a little salt or dip it in the sauce to indulge in a little more flavor. Speaking of which, tempura has a long and storied history. It came to my country from Portugal together with importation of steel and—”

“““Hurry up and let us eat already!””” the three protested in unison, cutting my explanation short.

“Then without further ado, please enjoy your meal today of chilled udon noodles and tempura.”

The three diners rushed through their prayers and took their forks in hand. Machina went around serving everyone tea. First up, the tempura.

“What in the divine deeps is this?! Such crispiness, such crunch,” marveled Ghett. No burns, huh? I’m glad.

“Yaya, you’ve gotten better at this,” declared Éa, both satisfied & bragging.

“Hmm, not too oily for a deep-fried dish. This breading and its technique raise so many questions. It goes great with salt,” remarked Pops as he took a crisp, crunchy bite of the tempura.

I heard a slurp; Éa had dug into the udon. Aghast, the middle-aged man nearly dropped his jaw at the sight.

“Whoooa, it’s so nice and chewy! I think I could eat this forever.”

“Princess Éa, this may be rather impertinent coming from a lowly adventurer such as myself, but that surely cannot be the most refined way to eat this meal, can it?” Pops pointed out. Éa was technically an elven princess. Turned out slurping your noodles didn’t exactly count as good manners here.

“But this is how they eat it where Yaya’s from,” she insisted. “I saw it myself.” In a movie, that is.

“I see.” Ghett nodded before taking a superb slurp of his own. The udon slipped into his mouth; he chewed it thoughtfully. “Hmm, is this the sauce? Or the technique? The aromas and tastes seem to hit differently than usual.”

“You get it, don’t you, Ghett? Ramen tastes amaaazing if you eat it this way, too,” agreed Éa.

After what looked like some deep consideration, Pops dipped his noodles all the way into the sauce and slurped them up in one go. “Hmm, this texture is almost like condensed soft bread. It slips nicely down the throat—not hard, exactly, yet satisfying to munch. Did you use fermented beans in the broth, by any chance?”

“Oh, can you taste it?” I responded, stunned he could point that out.

“Mellum had me try something similar once before, though it tasted like shit compared to this.” Who was that again? I thought, wracking my brain, when—

“Wait, Medîm, you know that jerk?”

—Éa asked, her voice drenched in disgust, and I realized he was her and Lana’s father.

“We were in the same party for a time. It was me, the king, Lanceil’s mother, Mellum, and his—” Pops mumbled the last bit so I couldn’t catch what he said.

“I didn’t know he was an adventurer.”

“Indeed. He had great skill with the blade, rare for an elf. In the end, I never once managed to best him.”

“Hmph. Not that I care.”

Pops had stepped on a land mine. He shut his mouth and focused on the food in front of him. Then, finally, I got to take my first bite as well.

“Thank you for this meal,” I said as grace, then slurped up a few noodles. The consistency wasn’t half-bad, and I didn’t mind the chewiness. I went a little heavy on the ginger and took another taste. Yummm, now, this is what I’m talking about.

For my first tempura piece I went with an onion, dipping it in the udon sauce before taking a bite. The crispy, thin layer of breading complemented the onion’s natural sweetness perfectly. Wasting no time, I took another slurp of the noodles. I started a one-two-punch tempo of tempura, udon, tempura, udon. Little by little, I added more spices to the dipping sauce, enjoying the progression in taste.

Éa and Ghett moved on to their second helpings of udon. Pops chowed down on his own helping, refusing to fall far behind. I saved the shrimp for last. The plump meat exploded as I took a bite with a crunch. If you asked me, this deserved a hundred points. And so the slurping of noodles rang out under the Otherworldly sky.

Anyway—

“So what did you come by for?” I asked Pop after we’d finished lunch and cleaned up all the dishes. Ghett had gone home, and Éa had headed to town to hang out with Bel and Shuna. Pops stayed behind at camp and now took puffs from a golden, expensive-looking pipe.

“I’ve been waiting on someone, too, but they’re sure taking their sweet time.”

“Okaaay.” I had no idea what he was talking about.

Without much else to do, I joined Pops at the table. Lady Mythlanica hopped onto my lap with a meow. I scratched her forehead and around her neck, entertaining myself by pressing the squishy pads of her paws to push her nails in and out. My goddess doubled as a pet to cuddle and a great tool for killing time.

“By the way, the king’s feeling better now,” Pops informed me.

“That’s great to hear.”

“He picked up his sword this morning for the first time in a while and set to retraining the prince. I tell ya, he’s not the king of the adventurers for nothing. His blade looked as indomitable as ever.”

“Wait, he can’t have recovered that quickly, can he?”

Is beriberi something you can get over that easily? You just can’t break the people here; they’ve got way too many off-the-wall abilities. Magic probably sped things along, too. Maybe comparing his recovery against the standards of modern knowledge doesn’t make much sense.

“So about your reward,” Pops started.

“Reward?” A reward, huh? Well, I had saved the king’s life, after all. I guess it was only fitting.

“Tell me if there’s something in particular you want, and I’ll pass on the message.”

“Something I want?” Money. Useful items. Or maybe a house with a big kitchen. Land? And since I’m in a fantastical dimension and all, maybe a maid wouldn’t hurt, either. My list went on far too long to choose from.

“Oh!” I remembered our most pressing issue. “Pops, is there any way to quickly refill your ryvius?”

“Aye, there sure is.” I’d landed on the solution a lot more smoothly than expected. I guess it never hurts to ask. “If that’s what you’re after, take this.”

“Oh?”

Pops handed me a gold piece hanging from a chain. Through my association with the different trade groups, I’d gotten a pretty good look at most of the coins around these parts, but I’d never seen this kind before. It was engraved with a design resembling a kind of wheel? Necklace?

“You’ve met the constable before, right?” asked Pops.

“Yes, just after I came here.”

“There’s this shop called the Goddesses of Slumber and Fertility Parlor straight behind his post. Wear this on your left hand and pay it a visit.” I wanted to get more information, but a carriage arrived, so I lost my chance. “There it is.”

Pops stood up, grabbed a few sacks from the carriage, and put them down in camp. They looked like bags of flour. I counted one, two, three of them. “Sorry, what are these?” I asked.

“Sacks of sugar.” He cleared his throat and in a dignified tone announced, “By imperial decree of His Majesty the King, Otherworlder, you are to make something to aid in His Highness’s recovery.”

“No thanks.” I met his matter-of-fact declaration with an equally blunt response.

“Now hang on, this is technically a royal command, you know. You can’t just turn those down. I really don’t want to have to kill you.”

“Come on, that’s what chefs do, not adventurers!” I was having a hard enough time trying to handle all the non-dungeon-related issues on my plate already. I’ll be damned if I take on any more trouble!

“You’ve really only got yourself to blame here. You went and made something tastier, not to mention healthier, than what the palace chefs prepare. People were bound to expect more outta you. Did you know that Remlia let three of his cooks go after that?”

“I—I don’t give a craaaap! I already gave him the ramen, so he should just make do with thaaaaaat!”

“I’m right there with you, but I’m afraid the king isn’t. ‘Medîm, I always crave something sweet after a salty, spicy meal. I’ve grown tired of raisins. Have Souya make me something.’ So do what he ordered and do it well. I’ve got dungeon business to attend to. I don’t have time to waste running every little errand. That bald old fart, taking advantage of a good friend’s concern.”

“You said ‘bald old fart’! You called His Majesty a ‘bald old fart’!” I’ll get that on tape and play it for him! You’re goin’ down with me!

“Aye, that I did. And I’ll say it again. Bald. Bald old fart! I may be the Father of Adventurers, but no way in hell am I the king’s guardian.” The stress of his daily work was starting to get Pops heated up, so I took the hint and tried cooling things down.

“Seriously, though, I’ve got my next expedition coming up. I don’t have time to dote on him.” Dealing with a life-threatening situation was one thing, but I wasn’t about to spend my days indulging King Remlia’s every whim. Plus, I got the feeling that if I gave in here, I’d never see the end of it. Next thing I knew this’d be The Otherworlder, Cooking outside the Dungeon.

“Hmm, I see. Fair point. It does seem rather harsh to delay an adventurer’s expeditions for that,” he conceded, then fell into thought. After a little while, he made a proposal. “Would you do it for a map? I can give you one covering the tenth-through-twelfth floors.”

“Seriously?!”

The unbelievable counteroffer left me astonished. Dungeon maps never came cheap, but they could reach truly astronomical prices depending on their accuracy and reliability. To put things into perspective, a verified chart of every nook and cranny of the fifth through the tenth floors cost five hundred gold pieces.

Maps were a double-edged sword, though. If people sold them willy-nilly, they’d get passed around, they’d become obsolete, and they could even threaten our very existences as adventurers. The dungeon required a certain amount of human casualties to function as it did. No one could predict what calamities the unbalanced ecosystem would produce if you destroyed that delicate chain in the name of efficient exploration.

It was an unwritten rule that maps could only be sold to other adventurers. Apparently, someone once broke that rule and sold a chart to a merchant, only for them both to show up floating in the river the next day. The Guildmaster flashed before my eyes for some reason, a dark smile on his irritatingly adorable face.

“It’s a relatively trustworthy diagram. But we keep this between us, you hear? Otherwise, it might tarnish my integrity.”

“Is there any way you can make that go down to the thirteenth floor?” I countered. I’d been keeping an ace up my sleeve. Reaching into my pocket, I let Pops catch a glimpse of a single bird feather. Believe it or not, it worked as a calling card for a goddess who could guarantee the equity of any trade. I was being asked to provide instant ramen, impossible to make in this realm, and a thiamine–rich dessert recipe also unavailable in this region. Who knew how valuable they could turn out to be in a fairly arbitrated negotiation?

“……Fine, but only to the thirteenth floor. I’ll bring it over tomorrow. Make sure you get those sweets ready.”

All right! Talk about a stroke of luck. I’ll have to get Isolla to scan it and work out a route for us. Maybe this next dungeon dive will go according to plan—though probably still not as easy as pie.

---

I strode through the city after dark, an ominous, chaotic place that rang with cries of anger and fear. Adept adventurers did theoretically patrol the area to keep the peace, but once they downed a few drinks you could hardly tell them apart from your run-of-the-mill thugs.

The sun had long set, yet people still lingered, overcome with a feverish heat. Ladies transformed under the cover of night like Cinderella, and men hunted for their prey like starving animals, a savage glint in their eyes. Except, according to my goddess, the women here turned not into princesses but into demons. If I wanted to see the light of day again and avoid having all my vitality drained from me until I became an empty husk, I’d do well to keep my pants on and keep walking, she’d warned. Thick, dank smells of sex and death filled the air. Danger seemed to lurk around every corner. Goddess, save me.

I made it to the shop Pops had told me about, the Goddesses of Slumber and Fertility Parlor. It looked like a refined mansion and gave off high-class vibes, probably all part of the package it sold. You couldn’t see anything from outside. Not a single employee stood out in front trying to entice customers.

I watched about five people enter the establishment, all elite adventurers. One of them even bore a Lumileux steel blade. Named after one of the six gods who comprised Windovnickel, God of Adventurers, this steel was both incredibly sharp and incredibly expensive. A single knife made of the stuff went for eight hundred gold pieces. It boggled the mind to imagine how much a full longsword would cost. But now wasn’t the time to lose myself in thought.

“This has got to be a brothel, right?” There was no mistaking it. I’d made the right call to come and check it out for myself first. Not that I held any prejudices against sex work, but it just wasn’t the sort of place one should bring a princess, even if she no longer held her title. Had Pops been trying to trick me?

“Oh, it’s you,” came a voice out of nowhere. It belonged to a beastmaid with medium-length chestnut hair, floppy ears sprouting from the top of her head, and a lean figure covered with what was basically underwear, which left a clear view of her roundish tail and small behind. Despite the alluring outfit, her slightly downward-slanted eyes gave her an innocent look. I knew her from somewhere. We’d definitely met before; I just couldn’t remember where. Her name hung on the tip of my tongue. She carried a few grocery bags in her arms. Maybe she was on her way back from shopping for dinner?

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for someone here of all places, are you?” she asked. “Oh? …My, aren’t you something. You haven’t been an adventurer for more than a few days, and yet you’ve already come this far.” She grabbed my left hand, which was where I’d hung the chain with the gold coin as instructed. “Perfect timing. She just happened to come back to work today after a bit of a break.”

Huh? Who? I wanted to inquire, but before I could get the words out, she tugged me forward as the doors of the shop opened for us. The sweet fragrance of perfume mingled with wisps of tobacco smoke swirling through the air beneath the faint glow of emiluminite. Erotically lit naked figures stretched out in the hall before us. Some lounged on the sofas, while others trained their feverish gazes on me. A few used their free moments to enjoy some skin-on-skin action. I saw beastfolk, heims, elves, and people of races I couldn’t even recognize. Man or woman, they all had two things in common: their collars and their beauty.

A well-dressed, intimidating dude stepped in front of me, blocking my entry as I stood there dumbfounded. As soon as my female companion drew his attention to the chain on my left hand, he broke into a genial smile. He welcomed me in and let the woman continue guiding me. She whisked me away to a room on the second floor and left me all alone.

The chamber’s furnishings felt a little too extravagant, but maybe that was the mood they were going for. I unslung the bow from my back and rested it against the bed, then did the same with the quiver at my waist, almost seamlessly making myself at home. Peeking beneath the bed, I found chains and shackles attached to each corner post. A quick look in the dresser drawers revealed several spectacular items made of wood or metal. After a little more digging around, I discovered perfumes and candles, whips and gags, beaded strings, restraints, and a wide variety of other toys.

Wait a second.

“……?!” Crap, what do I do?

I’d known exactly what was going on this whole time, but an odd sense of anticipation caused me to freeze. Immediately, I snapped back to my senses. Shit, this is bad. I gotta get outta here.

I opened the window only to find cast iron bars. Before I could slink out the door, someone else entered.

“Thank you so much for your patience,” she said, bowing politely. A feline beastmaid, she had supple arms and lithe legs, an ever-so-soft-looking midriff and breasts, long, billowing golden hair, beautifully pointed ears, and a full plume tail. In terms of cat breeds, she probably came closest to a Somali. Her countenance exuded a natural charm, along with a touch of youthfulness. Thin silk garments meant not to cover but to accentuate her body were draped over her frame. And, of course, she wore a collar.

“Oh, meow, Souya!” And I knew exactly who she was.

“Tutu, what’re you doing?!”

“What do you mean? I’m working.”

“Seriously?!”

My mind reeled at this encounter that was akin to running into a classmate at a sex shop. Not that that had ever happened to me, but I could imagine it felt this way.

“Whoops, I’m such a bad kitty.” Tutu cleared her throat once and began speaking in a completely different tone. “Tonight, I am your dream, your desires incarnate, your servant of the flesh, your bountiful catch.”

She reached out and ran her fingers through my hair. I shuffled backward under the pressure of her approach until I fell onto the bed. The tips of her golden hair tickled my neck. Sinuous as a leopard, she straddled me. My eyes were glued to her warm, lustrous skin.

“O Holy Lowomen, Goddess of Slumber, and Gastolfo, Goddess of Fertility, I raise my prayers to you both. May your rejuvenating blood run through my fleeting master, manifest your roving magic, and bind to me as one.”

Tutu took the ryvius hanging from my neck and pressed her lips to the vials. Shit, I thought, but it was too late. Our lips met. Unable to grasp the situation and overcome with nerves and panic as I was, every inch of my body hardened. Her tongue and hands caressed each and every knot as if to work them free.

Snap. Something within me broke. I lost all power of rational thought.

“Mmm, ngh!” A sultry moan escaped her lips. I lifted her up without thinking. Our bodies pressed together, skin to skin, our hot breath mingling. Sweet like candy, we embraced, and I nibbled a taste.

“Souya, wai—wait. Ahn, ah! Just, a second. Hang on just a minute, meow.” Tutu peeled me off of her. The heat fizzled. Drips of logical reasoning came back to me.

AAAAAAAAAAAAH! What?! What was I doing?! I’m—! I’m a married man, even if it’s just for show. Wait, that makes it okay, though, right? Hmm? Is this allowed? Or is it wrong? Can’t be good, right?

Utterly discombobulated, I broke out into a weird little jig sort of like a robot—if that robot were broken.

“Oh, it went up more than I’d thought. Looks like meow and you have some good chemistry.”

“Huh?”

Tutu shook my ryvius gently in her hand.

What? That’s strange.

I’d only had about a thumb’s worth of vitality in there, but it now measured on par with a rearguard adventurer’s. Forget about restoring whatever I had to begin with; was it possible to increase my maximum levels?

“Sorry, Tutu. What do you mean?”

“Huh? You mean you came all this way, and you don’t even know? This parlor specializes in serving adventurers. Lowomen disciples like meow can share their ryvius with others. The effects usually last about two days, though that depends on the person. Some people have a better connection than others, too, so you should try and see for yourself first.”

“Does it work on external magic, too?” I pictured Tutu tangled up in Lana and, though I hate to admit it, got very turned on.

“Afraid not. I mean, the external magic you use to cast spells and the internal magic for your vitality are two totally different things, you meow.”

Shiiit. I didn’t explain the problem right. This is all my fault for not getting all the important details straight. But c’mon, Pops, you shoulda warned me! You witnessed us exchange our vows and become husband and wife. If you’d have told me exactly what kinda place you were sending me to, I……wouldn’t have come here…or so I’d like to believe.

“What do you think, Souya? We can keep going. You’re also allowed to switch partners up to three times. But once you switch, you can’t go back, so choose veeeery carefully, meow.”

“Hang—hang on.” I held up my hands in a time-out T. There was too much I needed to process. Unaware of the bedlam raging within me, Tutu took my hands and placed them on her breasts. Though a bit on the smaller side, they fit perfectly in the palms of my hands and felt nice and plump. As a matter of natural instinct, humans will automatically test the softness of anything supple they get hold of. I gave them a little squeeze.

“Meeeow. ♪”

As I became hooked by her sweet murmur, one of my hands slid down to her waist. I gently drew her closer; she climbed on my lap. Her hips grew hot and moist where they met my thighs, and she ran her red tongue over her lips. She stared at me with an impossibly coquettish, provocative, seductive expression. Our lips met once more, and all thought and reason within me vanished without a trace.

Then…the wall broke.

And I’m not being metaphorical here—it literally burst open. The deafening roar and crash made me think we were under attack. It took me a little time to put it all together, but I eventually realized the man from reception had burst through the wall and into our room. I’d figured out the “what” but still had no clue about the “why.” A butt-naked man stood in the room next to ours.

“Long-ears just won’t do. Their bones snap like a rabbit’s. Ohhh, that beastmaid over there looks much better.” The intruder looked like one of those ancient buffs chiseled from stone. An elf crouched on the ground behind him. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her toward me.

“You, switch with me,” he demanded, then hurled the elf at me. I tried to leap into action, but with Tutu clutching my leg in fear, I couldn’t move. I heard a dull thud; the elf hit her head on one of the bedposts and crumpled. Now he wasn’t the only one who was pissed off.

“Oh-ho.” The man voiced his amusement.

In a split second, I’d picked up my bow and nocked an arrow. Wooden-shafted ammunition from this lycan bow could easily pierce straight through a human skull; the weighted arrow I now had trained on him could wrench off an arm or leg without difficulty.

“Apologize to this lady now. I want to see your goddamn head wipe the floor. Do that, and I’ll let you off with only one arrow in your ass.”

“Such big talk from such a little knave.”

That was all I needed. I released my shot. Sparks flew. The arrow was deflected and stabbed straight into the ceiling. I hadn’t been shooting to kill, but I hadn’t held back, either. The man gripped a huge sword in his left hand. But wait, he hadn’t been the one to swing it to divert my arrow. Though I couldn’t sense any other enemies around, someone must have thrown the blade and redirected the arrow’s trajectory.

“I suppose a little bloodshed before I get to the girl might be exciting in its own way,” he mused, casually stepping closer. I already had my next arrow nocked, but if this missed, I’d be shit out of luck. Since I didn’t know how he’d escaped my last shot, I decided it’d be better to go for broke at point-blank range instead of letting this one go too soon. The instant he lifted his sword, I’d release it straight at his forehead.

Generously speaking, maybe we were evenly matched? He seemed to realize it, too, so he raised his lips in a feral smile. I grinned back, teeth bared. I didn’t give a damn who he was. We’d pointed our weapons at each other. Now we had only two options: kill or be killed. People who lacked that kind of determination never amounted to anything. That was all it came down to.

The distance between us shrank. Arrow met blade and—

“Werner!” yelled another man as he stole into the room, cutting our duel short. Clad in a knight’s armor, he had closely cropped hair and a scar running over his lips. He was built like a boulder, with neck and limbs so thick it strained credulity to call him a heim. In a nutshell, he was a beat-up, boorish thirtysomething warrior. The design emblazoned on his armor tugged at my memory.

He continued his booming rebuke. “This gallivanting is no way for a hero of St. Lillideas to behave! A mere scratch on your person here would tarnish your honor beyond repair! If it’s blood you wish to see, say the word and I shall put you through a most grueling grind until morning light!”

“Tch.” The naked man clicked his tongue and tapped his sword against his shoulder. Evidently he’d given up on the fight. A gaggle of people started crowding around.

“You there, adventurer. For your troubles,” grunted the armored man as he handed me a rather hefty satchel full of gold coins.

A member of the parlor’s staff guided Tutu and me to another room. Still trembling with fear, she clung to my arm, her bushy tail fully puffed up. In this room, we found the owner of the establishment. A terrifying beauty of inscrutable age, she wore a dress with a plunging neckline and had long, curly locks. The dazzling assortment of precious metals and jewels adorning her body probably accounted for a mere fraction of her total assets.

“Mr. Otherworlder, I am ashamed of the atrocious reception we have given you, an invited guest. By all rights, our beauties should be the ones ensuring our clients’ safety, and yet this little one allowed you to protect her. I assure you she will be severely disciplined,” she hissed. “—Tutu.”

The instant the proprietor called her name, the beastmaid sprang away from me. “I-I’m terribly sorry, ma’am.” Her tail shriveled and sank.

“While admittedly not the most refined compensation, please feel free to request as many attendants as you’d like for the rest of the night—on the house.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Tutu is more than enough for me. Unfortunately, I’ve lost the desire to continue tonight and will take my leave. But I’ll be back another day.”

I gave Tutu a pat on the head to calm her tears, left a few gold coins with the proprietor for the injured elf, and exited the room. Then, stifling my regret, I exited the parlor doors. The raucous clamor of the city’s nightlife washed over me as I gulped down a deep breath of the evening air and then released a long, heavy sigh.

That was a close one. Too close.

That was probably the most dangerous situation I’d faced in this dimension, even more dangerous than the time all my weapons had gotten stolen. Careless and idiotic, I’d almost drowned in my lust. I couldn’t face Lana now; I couldn’t even face the other ladies in my party.

What the hell am I doing?

“Haah,” I sighed. Still, it had all worked out. I’d made it through the ordeal by the skin of my teeth. But if that’s all that’s keeping you alive, you’re pretty much as good as dead, right? It’s fine, what matters is you’re okay, I told myself over and over.

I’m safe now. Right, I should get Lana a present and head home. That’ll definitely make Éa jealous, though, so let’s make that two presents. What should I get?

“Oh, Souya.”

“Ah, it’s Sou.”

I bumped into two of the last people I’d have hoped to see: Shuna and Bel. They held heaps of foodstuffs in their arms.

“H-hey, you two,” I stammered. “You didn’t by any chance……see that, did you?”

Pure innocence in his eyes, Shuna responded, “Huh? See what? You comin’ outta that mansion? Yeah, we did. Actually, Tutu said she worked here. What kinda shop is it?”

Right. They’re friends with her. Shit, my legs are starting to buckle.

“……Hmmph.” Bel—no, Madame Beltriche—leaned back and gave me a conspicuous once-over. “Hmmph……” What was she trying to get at?

“Well, you are just a man. I get it, I’m no kid.”

“Bel, what is thi—”

“Shunie, run along home without me,” she cut him off. “I need to talk to Sou about something.” She dumped all her bags into his arms.

“Agh! It’s heavy! Too heavy!”

“You’re a man, aren’t you?! Just think of it as training and get goin’!”

“Wh-why’re you so pissed?” Crumbling under the terrifying force behind Bel’s words, Shuna ran off.

Bel jerked her head as if throwing down a challenge to meet her outside the gym after school. We slipped into an abandoned back alley.

“I’m begging you, please don’t tell Lana,” I pleaded. I’d never said anything more pathetic.

“So I can tell Éa?”

“Let me rephrase: Please just keep this between us.”

“I guess you must feel some remorse for Lana’s name to be the first thing to come out of your mouth.” Yes, ma’am. My heart could keel over at any minute from all the guilt.

“Would you be open to hearing my excuse?”

“Be my guest.” Her eyes were full of suspicion.

“Lana’s magic just wouldn’t recover, so when I asked Pops if he knew a way to restore it, he told me to come here. But I couldn’t send her to some random place I didn’t know anything about, so I decided to come check it out first. Then, lo and behold, Tutu popped up.”

“You did it with her of all people?!”

“Umm.” Should I tell her? Do I even have a choice? I don’t want to lie to my party members. “J-just by mouth.”

“BY MOUTH?!”

“Ah, no, I mean, mouth to mouth. Like, kiss-kiss.”

Bel flushed bright red; maybe she’d pictured it. What in all the worlds was I telling to such an impressionable young girl?

“And after that?”

“Huh?”

“What happened next?!” For some reason, the corners of her mouth had pricked up into a smirk.

“I mean, nothing really.”

“Don’t lie to me! You can’t expect me to believe a man and a woman are gonna stop at a kiss!” An excellent point.

“The guest in the room next to ours started some trouble and roped me into it, so I left. The end.”

“Aw, maaan.” She sounded disappointed. You’ve got a pretty dirty mind, don’t ya? “But I guess that makes sense. It sounds very you. Would you have gone all the way if that brawl hadn’t broken out?”

“Ha-ha! No way,” I lied. I’d completely lost myself to desire. “So there you have it—nothing happened.”

“Nothing, huh?” I couldn’t read her expression for the life of me.

“Please, Bel. I’ll do anything, so don’t tell the others. This was all just a series of misunderstandings and random coincidences. I never meant to be unfaithful to my wife.”

Unfaithful: That’s what they called you when you messed around with anyone other than your spouse. Still, I wasn’t sure if it applied to a fake marriage, much less one that hadn’t gone anywhere yet.

I sound super lame and weaselly, don’t I?

“Anything, you say?”

“I mean, anything I could theoretically do.” For some reason or another, I trusted Bel. We’d held each other’s lives in our hands. She would never do anything to break our party up or request something unreasonable.

“All right, then breakfast is on you tomorrow. Can I go to your campsite?”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll whip up something extra special.”

“Yaaay!” My heart warmed so at the sight of her bouncing with excitement, I completely let my guard down.

“Oh, and just one more thing,” she whispered. Who knows what possessed her, but she caught my face between her hands, stood up on tiptoe, and—lightly touched her lips to mine.

“Heh-heh-heh, we smooched.”

I grinned like a young boy. My crimson cheeks burned so brightly, not even the dark of night could conceal them. The moil behind me sounded even more raucous than usual.

I think I might be going to hell. I bet it’s like a witch’s cauldron.

[44TH DAY]

A wandering minstrel once surveyed one hundred disbanded parties about what had caused them to break up. Coming in at fifth place: money. More specifically, arguments over how to divvy it up, attempts to hoard treasure, refusing to pay the Guild its due, and debt. People often say, “Adventurers are nothing if not free.” That doesn’t mean they can just refuse to make good on their debts, though.

Number four: racial discrimination. This was an extremely delicate issue. For the most part, people avoided teaming up with members of races they didn’t mesh well with from the get-go, but sometimes necessity left them with no choice but to collaborate with other parties, work with clients, or get help during an expedition from someone of a different race. In those situations, there were countless factors that could lead to trouble.

Heims often carried themselves like pretentious overlords; elves looked down on anyone of non-elven blood; dwarves, consummate artisans that they were, stubbornly refused to compromise. All of these “manfolk” treated beastfolk like trash. This discriminatory behavior hadn’t developed overnight; it had a long history. Although it absolutely infuriated me, I wasn’t about to try to change anything. Evil as it was, the custom was a part of this dimension. I had no right to interfere.

Number three: internal disagreements about the party’s direction. (What do they think they are, rock bands?)

Number two: death. The better the group, the more it functioned like a well-oiled machine. Lose even one cog and the whole thing went kaput. In 90 percent of parties that had two or more members expire, the surviving members called it quits and went their separate ways. Nothing is harder than filling the void left behind after losing someone. Maybe that was why adventurers formed such strong bonds.

And coming in strong at number one: romantic relationships. Coed parties were five times more likely to fall apart than those of a single sex. That likelihood doubled if there were female elves or beastmaids in its ranks. Indecisive leaders, men in particular, doubled that risk further still. So for a group with members close in age, a married couple, and a younger sister-in-law, the possibility of disbandment grew bigger and bigger and—

“……”

“And that concludes the results of the survey conducted by a minstrel and compiled by yours truly,” reported Isolla. That last dig was definitely not on the survey. “Squad Member Souya, we have a saying in my country that goes, ‘Don’t tell anyone at trial about our relations.’”

“Yeah, that’s the second time you’ve said it.” The quote came from a president who’d dipped his fingers in a college intern’s honeypot.

“Pursuing issues of ethical morality does not fall under my professional purview. However, if you would allow me to provide my personal opinion—cheaters are the scum of the earth.”

“You had eyes on me the whole time, didn’t you? You can back me up and prove my explana—”

“I have a proposal. In order to prevent any further misunderstandings, I suggest we consolidate our terminology. Going forward, let’s use ryvius to refer to the energy which measures your vitality, and remove internal magic from our lexicons. The energy required to cast spells we will call magic points, or simply magic, and no longer refer to it as external magic. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Understood. Let’s go with that.” She hadn’t listened to a word that came out of my mouth.

I am your one and only official registered user in this world, you know. Ms. Isolla, you haven’t forgotten that little fact, have you?

“As a result of your relations with the local resident in question, your ryvius has increased to thirty-three. This is gradually dwindling as time passes, but considering you usually only had ten to begin with, it’s an extraordinary result. Additionally, we have found no evidence of any sexually transmitted diseases. Nevertheless, cheaters are scumbags. Absolute trash, Squad Member Souya. Scumbag Souya.” I felt like a pincushion being stabbed to death. “That’s all from me. See you in the dungeon.”

She hung up. That pissed me off, so I called her back, but she ignored it.

“What did Isolla have to say?” Machina asked.

“Sh-she wanted to talk about last night.”

“……”

“……”

An awkward silence fell between us. It was early morning; a light breeze caressed my cheek, the cool morning dew covered the ground, and the sun’s gentle rays felt good on my skin. The roosters I’d pasture raised on the meadow squawked, “Cock-a-doodle-doo-doo!” Today felt like it would be a good day.

“Mr. Souya! I finished preparing that item you requested a while back!”

“Ohhh, you don’t say!”

Reading the room, we switched to a different topic altogether. A domed stone oven stood right before me. It had been annexed to the camp’s existing kitchen.

“This is amazing. Where’d you get all the stones and stuff?” The two-meter-wide oven and its foundation had taken a relatively large amount of materials to build, much more than you could find just by picking rocks up here and there.

“I discovered some ruins beneath the spot where we first landed after teleporting here and borrowed some from the walls and columns to build it,” she explained. “I put the oven together rather quickly, but it should be structurally sound.”

“Ruins?”

“Yes, from a dungeon similar in composition to the Tower of Legions. I found emiluminite there as well. Presumably, it’s the dungeon Mistress Lana mentioned that allows your ryviuses to operate around the campsite.”

“Makes sense.” Did those ruins draw us to them with some sort of power? Maybe I should check them out next time I get a spare moment. If I ever do. But first, breakfast.

“Machina, how about that other thing I asked for?”

“I’ve finished it, of course.” She opened her torso and took out a bowl filled with a white, sticky substance—fresh cream.

“Wooow, you actually did it!”

“I whipped some milk and butter together with a little magic.” The spellcraft in this dimension was pretty crazy, but the magic of science didn’t fall far behind.

“I put the vegetables you asked for in the pantry. Think you can handle the rest?”

“Heh-heh-heh, leave it to me. I’m a girl, after aaall. ♪ I can bake any dessert under the suuun. ♪”

I’d just come back from a trip to the farms, where I’d bought a bunch of unusual vegetables, plus a few dairy products, before they went to market. Now that we had an oven and all, I just had to give that a try. Machina got to work on the sweets; I rolled up my sleeves, too.

I took out the udon dough I’d prepped the night before, pulled it apart, rolled it up, pulled it apart and rolled it up, then flattened it out with a rolling pin and spread tomato sauce all over it. Next, I took out three varieties of Otherworldly cheese, then shredded and sprinkled them over the paste. With that, the base was done.

The first pie I kept simple and loaded with bacon; the second got potatoes and mayonnaise. I went a little extra on the third, topping it with eggplants, edamame, onions, tomatoes, and olives. That’s when Ghett arrived, right on time.

“Now, what’s this about?” he pried, warily regarding the kiln.

“It’s our newest cooking appliance,” I told him.

“Frightful piece of work.” I could only imagine how terrifying this much fire was to a merman. Speaking of mermen, his haul for the day: scallops and shrimp. Ohhh yeah, baby!

Quick as a flash, I prepared the shellfish. Ghett took his customary seat and resumed his battle with a disentanglement puzzle. Machina slid her batter into the oven. I stepped away from breakfast prep for the moment and got to packing provisions for our expedition later in the day. As it would be a short reconnaissance trip, three meals per person would do. Plus, we’d get the map Pops had promised today, so I planned to fight any monsters that popped up just enough to get a feel for them before calling it a day.

My adventuring style ensured we took things slow and steady, cautiously. But even then, the dungeon could force us into situations beyond our comfort zones at any moment. That was why I always left room for error when planning.

A little under an hour later—

“Mr. Souya! It’s perfect!”

“Ooh, nice, nice!”

—Machina let out a cheer.

“And this is?” Squinting against the heat emanating from the kiln, Ghett took a few steps closer to the royal offering set atop a cutting board.

“A cheesecake. I tried this recipe with zunda, a sweet paste made from soybeans, mixed in. It shouldn’t be too sweet and has a good amount of thiamine!” she explained, referring to the light green pastry sitting in a round baking pan. Its sweet, elegant aroma reminded me of home.

“And that tastes good?” Ghett looked doubtful.

Hmm, it probably did, but I had other doubts to preoccupy me. Green vegetables were one thing, but would people of this world be open to eating green dessert? Presentation is everything, after all. The green moss creeping all over the castle gave me pause.

“Off to chill it nooow,” announced Machina. She put the cheesecake in a wooden box and hooked it to a drone, then sent it up into the skies like the tempura the day before.

Back to breakfast. First, I tossed the scallops with corn, butter, and soy sauce. To the shrimp, I added sweet-and-spicy mayo I’d whipped up with a fruit similar to avocado. Then, I carefully laid the shellfish on the dough. Finally, I sprinkled cheese over everything once again and drizzled olive oil to top it off. Fourth pie, check. Now all that remained was—

“Machina, you got this?”

“I’m on iiittt!”

—the baking, which I asked her to handle. I’d decided to leave whatever I could to her going forward. I mean, I was an adventurer—not a chef.

Still, I guess I should make something for the king myself, too. Is it just Japanese people who think basically everything tastes better with sugar and soy sauce? Are we totally off?

I threw the ingredients in a frying pan and gave them a good shake.

“Mooorning.”

“Good mooorniiing.”

“Hey, morning.”

The elven sisters emerged from their tent, Éa looking bright and chipper, Lana a little on the sleepier side. They washed their faces with distilled water I’d stored by the sink and did their hair. Éa had stolen into my bed the night before. Nothing had happened, of course. She’d just wanted some cuddles.

Not like you could ever try something with your sister-in-law, right? Wait, if she’s just an in-law, then…

The clopping of hooves snapped me out of my indecent thoughts. A person I recognized sat astride the horse. I caught glimpses of her thighs beneath her fluttering skirt. Why were all the women in this blasted realm trying to tempt me?

Or maybe I’m overthinking things? That must be it, right? I hope so.

“Pleasant morning to you, Lord Souya,” she greeted me, gracefully dismounting, light as a feather.

“Morning, Lanceil.”

Just then Lana scurried over, got in her face, and icily asked, “What business brings King Remlia’s illegitimate wench to our doors?”

“None that concerns the tainted blight of the Heuress Forest,” Lanceil snapped.

She and Lana grabbed each other by the arms like a couple of wrestlers. And they were off again. As that played out in the background, Machina began lining up our freshly baked breakfast. We hooked Ghett’s portion to a drone and sent it shooting up into the atmosphere.

“Kindly go through me for any issues you wish to take up with my husband, would you?!”

“Absolutely not! I am operating under the king’s official decree! I have no intention of taking orders from a filthy elf!”

Can you two at least stop your warfare on my campsite? And look at you, Lana, just casually busting out upper-arm strength on par with a vanguard. You are a mage, aren’t you? I guess descendants of heroes are just built different.

“Lanceil, want some breakfast before you go?” I offered.

“Yes! By all means!”

“That’s where you politely decline!”

“Absolutely nottt!” Keep at it, you two. At least you’ll get some good exercise in before breakfast.

Ghett’s expression mirrored my exasperation. I finished my contribution to the king’s offering and packed it in a leather bag. That’s when I heard a faint “Sooou” off in the distance. Bel and Shuna came into view, waving as they approached.

Taking no note of that development, Lana and Lanceil heated up their brawl to the next level. They spread out their interlocked arms and pulled, drawing their foreheads close until wham! their heads slammed together. Lana fell to her knees. Her smaller stature had cost her the match. A bright red blotch bloomed on Lanceil’s forehead, too, but she forced herself to suppress her grimace.

“Laualliuna, I’ve won this battle.”

“Grr, rghh!” Tears welling in her eyes, Lana cradled her head and came running over to me. “Daaarliiing!” She pressed herself up against my back, treating it to a lovely sensation. This much stimulation so early in the morning took a toll on me.

“Y-you wench!” cried Lanceil. “Have you no shame?!”

“Hush. A wife has every right to seek comfort from her husband.”

“Rgh! Well, the other day Lord Souya tied my hair up for me while I was cooking, I’ll have you know!”

“Ngh—! I’ll just ask him to do that for me, too!”

“You coward! Oh—well, he also taught me how to cook. How about that? I bet you don’t do anything but eat and sleep, like a proper cow!”

“Wha—?!” That was a pretty fancy way of saying I’d shown her how to make instant ramen. But she had a point: Lana really did pass out after meals. But adventuring was no picnic, so getting enough rest was a vital part of the job. “O-oh yeah? Well, he’s caressed my stomach before.”

Sensing the conversation taking a dangerous turn, I stepped in. “Machina, bring down the cake for me.”

“Okaaay.”

The drone descended. Lanceil leaped back, startled. “How mysterious. Lord Souya, is that walking pillar your companion? Could this perhaps be the dwarf said to have been spotted recently in town?”

“Yeah, but it’s too much of a hassle to explain. She’s my partner.”

“Pleasure to meet you. Good morning, Lady Lanceil.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” Machina tilted her torso, lowering her head to Lanceil, who returned the reverent bow. I got the feeling they might get along.

“Wooow, something smells amaaazing.”

“I’m tired.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Bel, Mr. Shuna. Thank you for always taking such good care of Isolla,” Machina greeted the siblings, who’d just arrived at the campsite this very moment.

“Ah, hello. Are you Isollie’s…mother?” asked Bel.

“No, I am her artificially intelligent superior commander.”

“…?” The robot’s explanation left Bel looking even more confused and Shuna as sleepy as ever.

Placing the box of cake on the table, I inspected its contents. It had chilled more thoroughly than I’d hoped. Was the upper atmosphere that cold?

Ahh, now that I think about it, I’ve never seen any birds flying that high. Maybe that’s got something to do with it. I guess I can look into that later, too.

Removing the baking mold, I made sure the cake was free of blemishes. All good. You could easily put this on sale. “Machina.”

“Okaaay, time to dress it up.” She decorated the top with whipped cream and sweet bean paste. I was all thumbs with this kind of thing. She was the only one who could crack it. A second later, it was done. I dubbed it “zunda cheesecake.” Zero Otherworldly elements, almost entirely inspired by Miyagi Prefecture (home to zunda).

“Whoooa, Sou, what’s this? It looks suuuper yummy! I want some.”

“Darling, I’d like a slice as well.”

Bel and Lana got ready to attack. But it wasn’t to be.

“This is an offering for the king,” I announced, crushing their dreams.

““Awww,”” the two unlikely hecklers booed in unison.

I placed a note Machina had written explaining the package’s contents in the box, set it so the cake stand wouldn’t slip, and wrapped everything in a decorative cloth.

“Lanceil, take this to His Highness, please. I hate to ask, but I need you to carry it back on foot. Take it on the horse and it will one hundred percent get smushed.”

“Of course, as you wish. I’ll risk my life to see it reaches him.”

“Don’t do that. If you drop it or it gets damaged, just come back and I’ll make another one.”

“Certainly. You truly are so wonderfully kind.” To be honest, I just didn’t want her risking her life over some cake.

“Oh, and take this, too.”

“And this is?”

I handed her the leather bag. “Sweet-and-sour roasted sunflower seeds. Make sure you spit out the shells and eat only the insides. Feel free to snack on a few on your way back if you like.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she angrily asserted.

“By the way, Souya,” Shuna began. “Who is this woman to you?”

“Shunie, you sure do have a thing for silver hair, don’t ya?” teased Bel. “Do you want your master that badly?”

“N-no I don’t.”

Without missing a beat, Lanceil responded, “Young adventurers, Lord Souya is the man I have decided to take as my spouse.”

“No he isn’t!” Lana flat-out rejected her claim. I had neither the guts nor the decency to deny the idea outright. More than anything, Bel’s sunny smile had me terrified.

“Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests.” A soft voice caught everyone’s attention. It came from Éa, who had been suspiciously quiet. She’d already finished setting the table. “All preparations to break our fast this good morning have concluded. If I may, I believe further fraternization can wait until after our meal. Now, please, take your seats.”

Who the hell is this?! Where’d this new personality come from?! It’s like Éa’s abandoned her usual wolf girl persona and is pretending to be a proper elven princess or something… I mean, she is actually a princess, but still!

Beside me, Ghett looked just as flabbergasted, and Lana seemed not to believe her eyes, either. Who is that? Bel and Shuna pointed as they took their seats. Perplexed, we all settled down at the table.

“Lord Brother, an introduction of our fare, if you will.” Lord Brother?! Seriously, what’s gotten into you?!

“Uh, umm, right. A few words of explanation, if I may. Today we’re having a baked dish made from a flatbread lathered in a base of tomato sauce and covered with cheese and other toppings. It’s called pizza. Sorry, I’m so confused, I don’t know what else to say.”

Machina went around serving tea.

“Honored guests, raise your prayers in thanks to your primary gods and goddesses,” Éa directed.

Is it just me, or is that a halo I see shining above her? Is she hurt? Seriously, is she okay?

I met Lana’s gaze to check, but all her look told me in return was I have no idea. We all finished saying grace and waited on Éa’s next words.

“We have gathered here today as a truly diverse group of individuals: heims, elves, merman, beastmaid, dwarf. Expansive though the three continents may be, one could not possibly hope to witness members of these five noble races sit and break bread together as one anywhere else. That is how exceptionally rare this repast is. Furthermore, we have an Otherworlder’s singular curios and skills to thank for the meal before us. It is, in every sense of the words, an Otherworldly feast. Allow me to extend my thanks to you all for joining us, and to my lord brother and his trusty servant Machina for preparing these victuals.” She spoke so eloquently that both Machina and I reflexively bowed our heads in response.

“I, Éa Raua Heuress, am positively trembling with excitement at the prospect of enjoying this meal with you all as equals, and at the thought of this delectable combination of seafood and vegetables.” Hmm? “You all have your plates, correct? Do you have your forks in hand? Have you been served a drink? Are you ready?” Hmmm?

She looked around at each and every one of us before announcing, “Well, then……dibs on this shrimp pizzaaaaaaaa!”

You did all that to get the first slice?!

A low-grade brawl broke out over the shrimp pizza, and the Otherworldly feast descended into chaos.