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“Unnamed Traveler Skadi Tutatis, oh my God! Damn it! Please! Gods!!!”

Zigmeser had anticipated a day like this.

And everyone in Winterhome was expecting it.

After all, it wasn’t a secret that the Duke and Duchess of Iceland had a wonderful relationship. How else could they have given birth to four children that looked just like them?

So the fifth child was practically confirmed.

They just didn’t know when.

Whether for religious or customary reasons, large families were encouraged regardless of noble status.

Moreover, this wasn’t an affair; it was the official wife, Elizabeth, who was pregnant.

This meant that another member would be added to the Felwinter Family, so it was only natural to celebrate.

Already, a flood of various gifts had started pouring into Winterhome almost daily.

However, the atmosphere inside Winterhome was quite different from the excited outside.

Especially for Zigmeser and the cooks.

It was all due to Elizabeth’s awful morning sickness.

“Who brought the butter? I asked for Akusare Mushroom oil!”

“Oh, right. You couldn’t eat butter, could you?”

“I’ve told you countless times to exclude all dairy!!!”

In response, one of the cooks, who had learned the Bersengzeto style of cooking just for such occasions, shouted out.

“Of all the ingredients, why did it have to be that she can’t eat because of morning sickness!”

Everyone in the main kitchen of Winterhome agreed.

Cooks in other kitchens throughout Winterhome felt the same way.

Elizabeth’s taste changed with each pregnancy.

More accurately, what she could eat changed.

During Godwin’s time, she could only eat meat; with William, she couldn’t tolerate seafood or flour. Conversely, when she was pregnant with Alicia, instead of restricting herself, she seemed to eat even more, almost as if she was marking Alicia’s birth. However, when she was with Robin, she couldn’t eat vegetables at all.

So the cooks hadn’t remained overly worried.

Even if they lost one main ingredient, they could always replace it with another.

No, the cooks were exerting themselves to the fullest.

With limited ingredients, the best chefs in Iceland were twisting their bodies to concoct whatever they could.

But no one acknowledged their efforts.

Even the usually kind-hearted Iona had sent a letter to Catherine hinting at a request for Karem’s return and cooperation.

What others might have reacted to was painfully obvious.

“What’s this? Just a heap of leaves and fruits!”

“Stand straight, Chef. Why is the Duchess still unable to eat meat?!”

“Morning sickness? Is that all you have as an excuse?!”

It was because Elizabeth still couldn’t eat meat.

In Seophone, meat was the highest priority; meat was truth.

Would such people even be able to tolerate Elizabeth’s current diet? She hadn’t even been able to step into the Great Hall for over a month, unable to even smell the food.

All this extra effort?

The limitations on ingredients?

Morning sickness?

All the reasons chefs provided were no more than excuses to most, just like how gamers didn’t usually care about game companies’ situations.

Thus, gazes directed at the cooks grew sharper with each passing day.

There was pressure to somehow fatten up the Duchess and prepare delicious, nutritious meat dishes that would ensure a healthy baby!

“Your efforts are appreciated. But how? Is there no other way?”

The reality was that the Duke of Iceland personally visited every kitchen in Winterhome once a day!

“Uh, um, sorry. Zigmeser. I think today is sufficient as it is.”

That was a gentle way of saying the dishes prepared by the cooks were starting to bore them!

On top of that, the worried looks from the prince and princess for Elizabeth!

“Soy Sauce! Kongarum! Fire Witch Finger paste! Honey! Sugar! Salt! Vinegar!”

“Roasted peaches with cinnamon and sugar are ready! Hurry and take them!”

“Head Chef! Is there really no other way!?”

“Long live Amadeus! Long live Baron Bolton! If we had none of this…!”

“When is Karem finally coming back!?”

“I’m just as curious about that!!!”

Of all things, meat! Seafood! Dairy products, especially butter!!!

If only butter were available, they could at least serve a variety of desserts!

The heir of the Beolseong Family, who even sacrificed Dwarfborn for cooking and fled the family, wished desperately.

“Karem, please come back quickly…!”

I never thought I’d regret sending you off for a vacation so much. If I had known this would happen, I’d have stopped you somehow.

“Head Chef?”

Zigmeser shot a disdainful look at the servant calling him.

“What’s it now?”

“The Chief Magic Consultant has arrived—”

“Finally!”

There was a cheer loud enough to quiet the kitchen chaos.

The cooks all turned their heads at once.

The sudden loud reaction was brief, but the Head Chef had already left the kitchen.

Zigmeser raced ahead with the vigor of an elf darting through the forest. As expected, he headed to the Mage Tower of Winterhome. As he had heard from a servant, a house fairy named Mary was flitting between the tower and the wagon.

“Oh, Head Chef—”

“Formalities later! Is Karem inside?!”

“Yes. He’s coming to the kitchen right away—”

Zigmeser didn’t even wait for the rest of the reply, charging into the lobby.

After obtaining a pass at the counter, he rushed through the empty lobby and up the stairs—

“…Beans?”

He was disappointed.

“Beans are fine to eat, right?”

“Yes. Since it’s a side dish, maybe the Steward forgot to write it down?”

Zigmeser said this while momentarily worrying if he had misread something.

And once again, he was disappointed.

“It’s soaked beans.”

“Yep. Chickpeas, for now.”

Zigmeser knew very well that the large pot before him was filled with chickpeas soaking in water. He just wanted to confirm out of habit.

“The answer to the problem is beans?”

“Ah, you lack faith, Sir Zigmeser. Have I ever made anything half-heartedly before?”

“You overlooked the pickles made from Fire Witch Fingers.”

Karem lightly brushed off the mix of disappointment, futility, and that small remaining hope as he began mashing the chickpeas with a pestle.

“So, what are you trying to make?”

“Hmm… should I call it chickpea pudding or chickpea meat? Wait, no, it’s not chickpea meat.”

“How exactly are you planning to make what with what?”

Zigmeser wished to confirm if he had misheard but Karem spoke clearly.

“Just… tofu.”

“Tofu?”

This was Karem’s first thought for Elizabeth after arriving in Coldon, struggling with morning sickness.

If we’re just talking about the amount of pure protein that beans provide, it’s well known that they often exceed that of meat.

Even if the process of making tofu reduces it significantly, that doesn’t matter.

After all, there is such a thing as bean paste stew in this world.

“You know, the ratio of beans, water, and coagulant is about 3:9:2, right?”

And all that is needed for the coagulant is water and vinegar, salt.

The knowledge from all those documentaries and cooking shows he had watched was finally paying off.

“What are you trying to do with beans?”

With an unexpectedly confident demeanor, Zigmeser mumbled with exasperation.

“Where did you even learn that…?”

“Last time at Obsidianberry.”

“Obsidianberry?”

“Yeah, from the Dark Elf cooks of the Kingdom of Adobice.”

Suddenly, the frown on Zigmeser’s face broke into a smile.

“Oh, if it’s them, then surely.”

Karem had shared various recipes with the folks from the Kingdom of Adobice at Obsidianberry.

Zigmeser knew of this and had shared in return, so it made sense.

Recipes? Some things are indeed passed down through oral tradition.

He thought maybe it was something he forgot.

Of course, the recipe for tofu had not been among them.

It was just a way for Karem to dodge that question.

“I was just curious about what you planned to do with the bean paste.”

“So, how have things been until now? I thought it must have been chaos with just receiving letters from Elder Iona.”

“Ugh—”

Zigmeser, with his head hung low, let out a deep sigh and sank into a chair.

“As you said, it’s been nothing short of a disaster. People are ready to jump down my throat, claiming that not being able to eat meat will starve my lady to death…”

“That’s how serious meat is in this town.”

As Zigmeser sat down, puffing out one last sigh, he thought the situation was not as serious as he had expected.

“But the chickpeas… will that really help to provide a dish that my lady can eat as a meat substitute?”

Zigmeser made a good point.

“Well, for now, we can just fool them with meat.”

“What now?”

“Do you think anyone has ever tasted a dish made from chickpeas?”

Tofu is tofu, and the kitchen leftovers should just be presented as specially processed meat for the Duchess.

Of course, the ingredients and recipes should be kept confidential.

Naturally, if presented carelessly, they’d risk exposure, so they would have to cook it in a sauce or deep-fry it until the chickpea smell was minimized as much as possible.

As Zigmeser absorbed Karem’s nonsensical plan, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Letting out a deep breath, he decided to think positively.

“Well, if we succeed, the pressure from both inside and outside the castle will reduce the suffering of those who relies on our healer’s favors.”

“They’ll be bursting at the seams.”

“And the Lord visits the kitchen once a day—”

“Wait, the kitchen?”

What did I just hear? Karem paused and locked eyes with Zigmeser.

“Every kitchen in Winterhome?”

“Yes.”

As Karem nodded repeatedly, Zigmeser couldn’t take his eyes off Zigmeser’s gleaming scalp.

“Wow, that’s a bit much.”

As previously described, Alfred was like a chairman respected by both the locals and his employees.

Such a chairman might be fine with visiting occasionally.

No one would want the chairman to think about how things were going on a daily basis.

Especially if he were to ask whether things were progressing well or not?

Even if I respect the chairman, this is an entirely different matter.

Just imagining it brought on a wave of pressure.

If only he had visited like during their last roast mammoth meat event, it might have been different.

But that was not the case.

What must the chefs, who have directly experienced that pressure, have felt?

Just imagining it sent shivers down Karem’s spine.

“So, about that…”

He could distinctly feel Zigmeser’s expectations and uncertainty in his subtly phrased demeanor. So, it was best to shatter those fragile hopes first.

“I mentioned it before, didn’t I? I can’t do anything about the morning sickness itself.”

“Isn’t there truly nothing we can do? If we get found out, it’ll be a bigger problem.”

“What’s there to do?”

Though he knew it wasn’t possible, Zigmeser couldn’t help but pound the table in frustration.

“Damn it! The knight’s gazes will only grow sharper from here on out!”

“If we succeed, it’ll work out. Just succeed!”

“How reassuring, huh? If we succeed?”

“Well, this is my first time attempting this.”

More accurately, it was the first time since his reincarnation.

Why hadn’t he thought of making tofu sooner?

Looking back, the reason was simple.

He had been too preoccupied with rice to think of anything else.

“Meanwhile, how was I making that fermented sauce.”

But it was probably a blessing from the gods, and he hadn’t considered it further.

“Anyway, if we succeed, a pristine white lump will be the end product. We’ll need to prepare it to disguise it as meat somehow.”

“So how long do you plan to mash those beans?”

Zigmeser had come closer, standing on a chair to peek down at the pestle.

“Looks like it’s almost completely mashed.”

“You need to mash it thoroughly until it’s nearly unrecognizable.”

Without the Time-Disregarding Magic Tool, one would have to wait for an entire day.

Especially since it was chickpeas they were using today, not soybeans.

Even though almost all beans could be processed into tofu, making it with its least familiar cousin guaranteed some trial and error.

To top it off, managing the pressure to avoid breaking the mortar and pestle took more time.

“Karem, what are you mashing over there?”

Having finished tidying up, Mary swung open the door.

“Perfect timing. Can you please take over mashing this for me?”

“Suddenly asking me to do that? Well, I’ll do my best.”

“Zigmeser, just a moment.”

As soon as Zigmeser moved aside, Karem brought out pots, large bowls, and a cloth from the bottom shelf to set up the tofu-making equipment.

“If I had known, I would have written down the recipe earlier.”

The recipes he had shared thus far were generally tailored to the tastes of those from Seophone. Meaning they focused heavily on meat dishes.

Yet now, suddenly, the Duchess’s palate had transformed, becoming worse than that of an elf!

It was only natural for everyone to panic.

“But will it be just flour?”

“What do you mean?”

“About the Duchess’s morning sickness. There are things like barley and oats, right?”

Seemingly a bit slow to catch on, Zigmeser shook his head.

“Those both have smells too strong to handle.”

“Is that so? I guess beans are okay for her then.”

Well, unless it was rice, other grains had their distinctly strong smells. Even brown rice, which was less refined, also had its own aroma. People usually didn’t hear of anyone getting sickness from beans or tofu.

Which is why Karem focused on tofu.

As he squeezed and boiled the chickpeas, he began to hear familiar footsteps growing louder. He paused all his work momentarily.

“Is that Lady Alicia?”

“Seems she has come looking for you, Karem.”

“For me? Why?”

“Wouldn’t the answer be obvious from just looking at the Head Chef?”

Mary gave Karem a light pat on the shoulder.

“You’re quite popular.”

“Ugh, I hope you caught everything I said. Let’s keep this hidden for now.”

“From how to quickly soak the beans to boiling the chickpea water and adding coagulants—I understood everything—”

BANG-!

The swing door of the kitchen swung open forcefully.

“Long time no see!”

“Eep! Yeah, it’s me, Alicia! But more importantly! There you are, Graybeard!”

Casting a brief glance at Mary, who momentarily covered the pots and molds with her body, Alicia seized the hands of Karem and Zigmeser.

“This is perfect timing! Let’s go see mama!”

 

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