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Zigmeser, having parted ways with Karem, requested an audience with Alfred.

“Already experimenting with countermeasures?”

“Yes, my lord.”

To lay the groundwork for any unforeseen situations.

Thus, just before he could continue speaking, at that brief moment,

Zigmeser chose his words carefully.

He had to avoid creating excessive expectations or finding himself in a troublesome situation where his true intentions were uncovered.

“It seems they require more time to conduct experiments on the plans conceived during the journey from Baron Bolton’s Territory.”

“In that short amount of time—”

Alfred’s voice slightly faltered as he spread his hands. A piece of parchment he had been handling slipped from the stack of documents.

“No, considering the appearances and efficacy shown so far, it’s not impossible. Iona was right after all.”

“Yes, regarding that, there’s something I must humbly ask.”

“Is it to that extent?”

“It’s a matter of utmost importance.”

Zigmeser took a short breath and opened his mouth with a serious, determined expression.

“Would you permit all means to alleviate the Duchess’s morning sickness?”

“To alleviate morning sickness?”

Though he was aware of Zigmeser and the chefs’ efforts, seeing the Duchess’s forced eating habits increase day by day and the changes in her weight worried him greatly.

This shouldn’t be the case, yet knowing he visited the kitchen personally at least once a day was due to this nervousness. He barely managed to suppress his anxieties to keep it to once.

‘Yeah, I thought you would say that.’

Despite his serious expression, Zigmeser sighed inwardly. From now on, white lies would be needed—even for Alfred, Elizabeth, and the Winterhome chefs.

No, it wasn’t even about telling lies at all.

It was merely about omitting certain truths.

“Is there finally a way to enable Elizabeth to eat meat?”

“…”

Zigmeser answered that question with silence.

Silence is indeed a form of affirmation, but conversely, it also serves as a shield, implying that he never explicitly said anything.

“…Are you preparing yet another troublesome method?”

“I’ve experienced many things throughout my life, but I must say I’ve never seen such a sight before.”

“Ah, I see without you needing to say it.”

Picking up the parchment again, Alfred made an incredulous expression mixed with anticipation and distaste as he chuckled softly.

‘What sort of bizarre actions are you planning again?’

Images of Karem’s intermittently manic behavior flashed rapidly through Alfred’s mind.

If Karem had known, he might have protested that this was slander, but considering his prior actions, Alfred’s somewhat biased conclusion held a high degree of credibility.

It could be said to be a kind of karma.

Zigmeser seemed to be hiding something, though.

‘For the sake of mental health, I’ll need to ask later.’

From Zigmeser’s reaction, it was evident he had witnessed Karem’s experiments firsthand. If it were problematic, he would have revealed the truth long ago. Instead, he was subtly expressing it to avoid outright saying it.

“Then allow me to ask just this.”

With that, Alfred inquired, perhaps, just perhaps.

“Could it be black magic?”

“My lord.”

“Right. I know. There’s Atanitas, so that can’t be the case. I was just being cautious; how about necromancy?”

“Neither a taboo nor a forbidden form of magic.”

Zigmeser responded with a lukewarm gaze.

‘Well, it’s not unreasonable for you to think that.’

As mentioned earlier, there were many who knew of Karem’s antics.

Of course, briefly, nobody would ordinarily eat a Mammoth that had been crafted using the magic of a Necromancer, then sprinkle Holy Water on it before consuming it. But that was because it was a Mammoth, after all.

“Could it be that you’re using byproducts of a monster?”

“That is also not the case.”

“Could it be something toxic? Like the Fire Witch Finger—”

“No, rest assured.”

Alfred fervently defended against Zigmeser’s somewhat biased inquiries toward Karem.

‘This isn’t my fault.’

It was entirely Karem’s karma.

*

*

*

Unbeknownst to Zigmeser’s feelings, Karem set a tray down on the table.

“Today’s lunch!”

“…Is this for real?”

Catherine was no stranger to rice.

In Servianus, when nobles invited guests or held banquets, rice was a staple that never failed to appear alongside various delicacies.

Thanks to that, Catherine had eaten it quite a few times.

“This… I suppose I’ll need a spoon.”

“You must be careful not to spill.”

“Are you treating me like a child?”

“No, truly. It’s just that there’s very little stickiness, so if you aren’t careful, every grain will fall everywhere.”

Karem lightly shook the fried rice with a spoon. Each grain of rice tumbled separately onto the plate as proof it had been well-fried.

“A strong breeze will blow it away.”

Catherine stared at the fried rice placed in front of Mary.

Indeed, the mound of fried rice on the plate looked lovely; each grain was golden, coated in oil, shining brightly.

That aspect felt a bit unusual.

Rice was something the nobility and powerful in Servianus went to great lengths to eat solely for themselves.

Thus, rice-based dishes tended to be limited in variety. Catherine had only ever tried two types of dishes that solely utilized rice.

Rice pudding and risotto.

The rest were simply accompanying elements in pot dishes or salads, used for decoration. Unless it came from the Temple of Many Gods in Servianus or the Royal Palace.

‘I’ve never had the chance.’

This dish before her, therefore, felt refreshing.

Curiosity arose within her.

“Contractor, why not try the sweet and sour pork first? It’s been deep-fried and stir-fried twice, so it won’t turn soggy over time, but just like with anything, it’s best eaten while hot—”

“This fried rice won’t taste good when cold either, you know?”

Catherine kept her gaze fixed on the fried rice and replied.

“Like the freshly baked bread that comes out of the oven.”

“That’s true.”

“Then, stop talking nonsense and serve me already.”

With that, an utterly flustered Mary served fried rice to Catherine. Karem could no longer hold back and promptly grasped the spoon.

‘I can’t stand it anymore!’

Usually, he would have waited until seeing how others enjoyed their food first, but what lay before him now was fried rice.

With a solemn demeanor, he held the spoon and delicately served a proportionate amount of fried rice.

“Ah, Tutatis!”

“What? Out of the blue?”

“Um, uh, never mind.”

Karem waved his hand dismissively and continued to shovel in the fried rice.

The texture was completely different from bread or noodles, spaghetti, or pasta.

A flavor that could not be matched by barley, oats, or other grains.

As he filled his mouth with the elongated, distinctively fried rice, forgotten sensations sprang back, reminding him of the clearly defined elements separated by his teeth.

It was much lighter than the fried rice he had eaten countless times in his past life, but because it had been fried with intense heat, it possessed a fluffy texture.

Moreover, the vegetables’ texture and the savory notes of the egg kept it exciting as a staple, never feeling monotonous.

That was precisely why it was more appropriate to eat as a staple, and even while swallowing mouthfuls, he didn’t grow tired.

The faint aroma of smoke permeating deep into the ingredients made the use of lard remain overshadowed by the unique savory flavor.

Above all, the years of deprivation that had stretched over a decade.

The years when rice had been forcibly taken from him.

Even after eating his fill, the overwhelming satisfaction that exploded within him surged from his spine to his toes, then rushed back to pierce his mind, fulfilling the deep-seated void within his heart.

They say hunger and deprivation are the best spices…!

Chomp, chomp—

“For Karem, rice might be akin to freshly baked bread slathered in butter with a glass of milk for our kind.”

“Perhaps.”

Thinking back to all the times he had been cold-heartedly using barley and oats, they must certainly feel considerable.

“That sounds a bit exaggerated, though.”

As he ate the fried rice Mary offered, he could definitely taste the deliciousness.

Whether it warranted such a fuss, well, who knows?

In Catherine’s eyes, Karem, shoveling heaps of fried rice into his mouth, resembled Mary reaching her limit of restraint.

‘What a unique flavor.’

The fried rice scattered across his mouth as soon as it entered.

Therefore, contrary to his expectation of a light taste, a completely different texture hit him when he chewed it.

With each grain of fried rice that he chewed, he could feel the distinct shape and texture.

It didn’t completely crumble, even when bitten into.

Hence, unlike the rice dishes he had previously tasted, the fried rice lingered in his mouth, allowing for ample savoring.

Every piece of fried rice, vegetable, and egg piece oozing flavor from the coating of lard remained palpable until the moment he swallowed.

As he emptied the bowl to some extent, a hint of greasiness arose within him.

“Contractor, sweet and sour pork.”

“Mm. Yes.”

Right when that greasiness started to rise, it vanished in an instant.

The sour taste and aroma of the sauce derived from vinegar tingled the nose.

Followed immediately by a sweet taste that soothed, as soon as he bit down, the crispy coating of the sweet and sour pork crunched in a delightful manner.

“Instead of sweet and sour pork, why don’t you try the kimchi in front of you?”

“Are you suggesting I eat the Fire Witch Finger pickle right here? Huh?!”

Catherine wrinkled her nose at the new sensation wafting from her nose.

The previous disgusting smell had vanished.

This was entirely due to Karem slyly increasing the proportion of garlic and spiciness in the dish.

Catherine, unaware of this adjustment, made her decision.

“Mary.”

“Contractor, are you serious?”

“Just one piece.”

“If you say so.”

With that, Mary confirmed the Contractor’s intent and prodded out a piece of the Fire Witch Finger pickle, the cube of radish.

Crunch—

Without hesitation, Catherine took a bite.

“…”

“Not bad, huh?”

“Indeed. Karem, I admit it. You were right.”

“I knew you would think so.”

“However, this… depending on the person, it seems one might need to exercise restraint.”

“Eh?”

Catherine felt the remaining taste linger in her mouth.

It wasn’t tasteless. The refreshing sensation of eating pickles melded with a hint of salad. The sharp heat and warmth derived from the Fire Witch Finger.

However, those sensations promptly washed away the greasiness left from the fried rice.

It was precisely reminiscent of the saying that Mongolians tend to shy away from eating kimchi when consuming their greasy traditional dumplings.

The tangy freshness and sourness of kimchi eliminates oily heaviness, often leading one to consume more than intended.

Given that both fried rice and sweet and sour pork, which are quintessential Chinese dishes, are naturally greasy from frying, it was quite optimal for kimchi to take action.

“So, how far along are the countermeasures for the Duchess?”

“By now, everything should be ready. They’ve set in the refrigerator to harden.”

“Wait, really? Already?”

“Yes. We started making them right after returning. We borrowed the power of Magic Tools too, you know?”

“Magic tools? Ah, like the acorns of abundance.”

Catherine nodded. Considering the tool’s effect to accelerate time by a hundred times, it was only natural that the time required was reduced.

“So what’s the countermeasure called?”

“Tofu. It’s made from beans.”

Catherine blinked for a moment as Karem revealed the nature of the ingredients after the name of the countermeasure, then looked at Mary.

“Bean? You mean, chickpeas?”

“But they’re still just beans.”

Zigmeser, too, couldn’t understand why everyone looked so astonished. No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t fathom the reason.

“Are you telling me beans can serve as substitutes for meat?”

There was no way he would lie, and even if he did, Mary beside him would report everything, so that claim had to be the solid truth.

Leaving aside anything else, concern loomed in Catherine’s mind.

“The fact that the substitute isn’t something similar to meat but beans—what if that gets discovered?”

“Well, if it comes to that, I can just hide away in the Tower for a few months.”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

Of course, eternal secrets don’t exist, but it might be possible until the morning sickness completely fades.

‘But Alicia’s infiltration is concerning…’

It seems a separate space would need to be arranged for making the tofu.

 

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