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Appetite is memory.

Because it is exceedingly ambiguous yet certain.

A person’s memory can be so vague that they sometimes can’t even recall what they ate for dinner last night, but conversely, they might remember the taste of a chicken skewer they had decades ago while passing by on the street.

Therefore, it doesn’t take much preparation to stimulate appetite.

The key is to evoke the emotion of empathy.

The rest is taken care of by the memories of the person empathizing.

That’s why simply watching someone eat can cause a person to remember the taste of that food and feel satisfied enough to spend money on it.

Of course, Karem wasn’t one for that degree of indulgence even in his past life.

No wonder—he was serious about cooking.

He could prepare just about anything.

Even while watching a mukbang, he might think “They eat well,” but he had never experienced the urge to spend money to feed someone more.

Crispy—crunch, crunch!

……?

“No, it’s nothing. Do you need a drink?”

……

But for the first time now, the thought of wanting to donate crossed my mind.

Thinking back, I was beginning to understand why I had never felt the urge to donate while watching previous mukbangs.

To put it bluntly, it seemed that most of the people he watched didn’t eat well but rather struggled to eat beyond their capacity.

He never thought to himself, “They’re eating deliciously.” For that reason, Karem liked watching people like Catherine, Mary, and Gordon eat.

They just ate a lot, simply ate, and finished eating.

Not just eating, but eating deliciously and neatly (important).

And before him now was a figure in a black robe eating chicken slowly yet rapidly, resembling that very essence.

Crisp, munch, munch!

Even though the bright golden-battered skin tore off, the crunchiness could still be heard.

The harmony of the well-fried exterior and the crunchy interior was delightful.

Slurp! Munch, munch, munch.

The hot oil and juice, trapped inside and then released with pressure, instantly disappeared into the darkness of the hood, as if being sucked in.

Crunch, crunch! Swallow—gulp—

The sound of bone cracking rang clearly.

With no irritating parts, its neatness and clarity brought a unique stimulus to the ear.

The perpetrator swiftly pushed the tip of the chicken breast he was holding into the hood and, crunching, slowly drank the beer from the wooden cup Karem had handed him.

With a thud, the empty cup was set down, and the unnamed traveler’s hood tilted as if in curiosity.

Of course, his hand was subtly moving toward the chicken basket.

……?

“Oh, no. I received it from Sir Atanitas.”

……

“Since the only thing I offered on my business trip was soybean paste noodles, I thought I should apologize too. Please help yourself.”

Only then did the traveler, appearing reassured, grab some thigh meat.

The thigh meat, buried inside, was steaming hot, releasing fragrant vapors.

‘This is different from the two delightful individuals, who are both rather carefree.’

Karem looked at the lower diagonal space behind the traveler.

Three small statues were set in a personal prayer room.

Each depicting a war god, the mistress of winter, and the unnamed traveler.

In front of them was a portable shrine.

On it sat two more baskets identical to the one the unnamed traveler was eagerly devouring.

Right. ‘They existed.’

Upon entering the personal prayer room of the Winterhome temple, closing the door, and placing the basket on the altar, suddenly, the chicken vanished.

As if Mary had teleported right in front of him.

Meanwhile, the unnamed traveler sat at a table on one side of the prayer room, waving his hands as if entwined with the sound of soft winds and crow’s cawing.

A moment later.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.?

“No. It’s nothing. Do you need more beer?”

Nod, nod, nod.

Karem poured the last beer left in the jar neatly into the cup the unnamed traveler held out and placed it down.

“But may I ask one thing?”

……?

“You used to visit for item recovery, but what brings you here this time?”

……

The traveler bit straight through a well-fried chicken bone, sounding as if he could eat the bones too.

The sound in his ears was the low caw of a crow watching with blinking eyes, but its meaning was directly conveyed to the heart.

“Is it the same as before, with the byproducts of the dragon?”

……?

“Are you curious? No, not at all.”

……?

Caw? A slightly different, less enthusiastic crow’s caw.

Though the meaning wasn’t conveyed, it was clear what he meant.

The traveler, who had been focused on the chicken, stopped to glance at him in surprise, but…

“Sounds like it might be a headache if I hear something. Am I wrong?”

…….

“Indeed. Then I’ll just remain ignorant.”

After all, it’s best not to get involved in troublesome matters.

However, with great power comes great responsibility and challenges.

While near Catherine or in Winterhome, it would be impossible not to get involved.

But he was, after all, a cook.

The role of a cook is to satisfy guests with food.

His top priority was Catherine above all else.

And also to take care of his colleague Mary and his friend Gordon.

If peace is what is desired, then that might just be an acceptable choice. With a slight shrug, the unnamed traveler let out a spring breeze sound.

And then he started to munch on the leftover batter from the basket.

Crispy, crunch.

……

“…If you need more… Ah, didn’t you say no??”

Eating your favorite food just a little less means you can enjoy it more the next time—a specific implication wrapped in a softly hummed sound.

What a peculiar taste you have, indeed?

Karem couldn’t help but think.

“But didn’t you eat a lot last time?”

……

His colorful expressions, conveying that he could not control himself during his first time eating, ended with the traveler clearing the basket completely.

He devoured every tiny piece of chicken crumb and handed over the cup and basket, rising as if he ought to leave now.

“…Hmm.”

Karem blinked as he held the basket and cup. Was he taken aback? It was a slightly irreverent thought.

Well, the offering had finished.

Meeting a god for the second time proved to be an experience hard to get used to, and Karem shivered as he stacked the baskets.

“Wait, no, third? Fourth?”

Sir Tutatis had descended in Wintersend.

And Skadi had appeared in a dream alongside him.

He had seen the former directly with his own eyes. In fact, he could firmly say he met her for real since he saw her before he met the unnamed traveler.

But should the times he spoke to her in dreams count too?

Karem’s dilemma continued until he exited the prayer room, holding the cup, jar, and basket.

“Hey, popular guy. What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Oh, Gordon. Huh? Gordon?”

“Yes. It’s me, Gordon.”

Suddenly, Gordon appeared, throwing an arm over his shoulder. But what was he doing in the temple?

“What’s up? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What brings you to the temple?”

“Just because.”

“Just because?”

“I had a boring time because I was dragged along on an errand for the mages, and now that I’m back, there’s nothing to do.”

That was a point he couldn’t deny. After dealing with the thief attacks, demons, the undead army, and a siege all in one trip, here he was.

“Wait, didn’t you mention preliminary training before you got dragged along?”

“What? Preliminary training? With whom?”

“Uh, with Count Godwin before?”

Oh, that? Gordon waved his hand dismissively with a look of defeat.

“I checked that out a while back after getting kicked out by you. Word has it that the count was assigned work by the lord and couldn’t even come out of his room.”

“So what? Are you here sightseeing?”

“More so, I was curious about what that prayer of yours was for.”

Gordon glanced down at the basket with a sidelong glance.

“Already finished?”

“Of course, I finished ages ago.”

“Well, there’s no helping the past.”

Gordon’s expression conveyed that he had no lingering feelings over it, instead bursting into a smirk as if he had recalled something amusing.

“So, did you confess?”

Karem froze right outside the temple. With several priests and servants staring at them, he hurriedly led Gordon away, who had his arm draped over Karem’s shoulder.

“Narque?”

“Across the way?”

“Haaa.”

Though it wasn’t a properly structured conversation, it could be translated as:

‘Did you hear it from Narque?’

‘You heard Narque tell someone else?’

Sure enough, Karem had expected this.

If he wanted to keep it secret, he would have called Narque right after waking up. But he didn’t.

However, the fact that he was angry was for a different reason.

Most likely the very fact that he had been eavesdropping.

“Maybe by dinner, everyone in Winterhome will know?”

“That quickly?”

“Rather, the mages are holed up in their tower and have slow news.”

Wouldn’t they want to share this juicy gossip? With that thought, Karem unwittingly pressed his forehead.

Indeed. Even in modern times, when someone starts dating, the news spreads like wildfire to relatives, acquaintances, and friends, and if that person is a celebrity, it can reach the other side of the planet.

All things considered, the former world had far fewer sources of entertainment.

Nobles were no exception, but Karem thought they were all the same.

Who would not hear the news of someone dating?

It would spread like flames on a dry straw.

“But after this, do you have any plans?”

“Not sure.”

Even if he had plans, they were predictable.

Preparing meals and snacks for Sir Atanitas, implementing/researching past cooking techniques, being dragged around by Alicia who manifests suddenly, and socializing with Zigmeser.

But there was still a long time until lunch.

Cooking research dropped after finishing the soybean paste.

Alicia, who ran off after nibbling on pepper, appeared at random, and who knew when he’d be dragged away, at least it wouldn’t be today.

The socializing meeting needed rescheduling after everything got derailed while he was on the trip—

Ah.

“Let me double-check. Are you bored?”

Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Right. But would you mind giving me a tour?”

“Even better, I have good news.”

“Good news?”

“You haven’t had mammoth meat yet, have you?”

“…No way?”

Karem could see the smile emerging at the corners of Gordon’s mouth.

“Shall we stop by the tower for a moment before returning?”

“Eh? Just stopping by? Not making anything at the tower?”

“Let’s reschedule the socializations with the head chef, and while we’re at it, how about gifting you some mammoth meat as a token of gratitude, allowing you to taste it too—”

“Sure. Let’s go right now. But where do we do this?”

“Just wait a moment. Let’s ask first.”

Of course, a sudden visit is a bother to everyone.

Yet, Karem believed in it.

Zigmeser’s passion for cooking.

“What? Mammoth meat? Sub-chef! Alberto! I’m counting on you while I’m gone! Yaahhh—!!!!”

Zigmeser dashed out like an elf hunter the moment he heard.

 

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