Chapter 7

This time, there's a space open in the paragraph, right?

“Transfer!”

Clank! Clank! Clank!

From the next room, the sound of a wooden plate falling to the ground can be heard.

The plate I transferred either floated in mid-air or hit something. Probably the former, based on my senses.

“Ah, it’s quite difficult.”

It’s been two months since the day I first transferred an object. I’ve tried transferring under various conditions and have started to understand the effects.

First, the biggest question about transfer was what happens if there’s another object at the transfer location.

For example, if I try to transfer myself to my room, I usually imagine the place and transfer. However, if someone is there or something is placed in that location, I can still transfer but automatically to a place where I won’t collide.

In other words, even if I make a mistake with the transfer, I won’t end up embedded in a wall.

Thanks to this, I can perform my transfers with peace of mind.

Next, I can only transfer objects I touch.

I thought about trying to pull objects from a few meters away, but it’s not possible.

Also, I can’t transfer just half of an object.

This means that transfer magic doesn’t destroy or overwrite objects, right? That’s reassuring.

As expected, transferring humans consumes more magic power, and the farther the distance, the more it consumes.

I want to try, but can I transfer other people without their permission…?

Click!

“Whoa!”

“Hey Al! It’s hot, so get out the ice!”

“Hey, Elinora, at least knock. You scared me.”

“It’s fine, no big deal.”

“Knock next time.”

Elinora lets out a deflated sigh. She probably won’t knock next time. Maybe I should set a trap.

“Then get out the ice.”

Sure, I’ll set a trap.

Next, I’ll make it appear above her head with transfer magic when she enters. Moving the shelf in front of the door is also a good idea.

“Ouch! Why did you hit me!?”

“Because you had a silly look on your face.”

“What? That’s unfair! I’m your cute little brother, you know?”

In front of Elinora, even my imagination is limited…

“Where did you learn such a difficult word like 'unfair'?”

“From a book.”

Saying this usually works out.

“Whatever, just get it out quickly.”

My sister uses me roughly. Elinora insists on getting the plate out quickly.

“Here, here, ice cubes.”

By the way, ice magic is classified as an advanced water magic. Cold air is a must in the summer. I practiced hard.

“No, that’s not it!”

“Huh? This isn’t it? It’s ice, right?”

“The fluffy, crunchy one you ate the other day!”

“Ah? You mean shaved ice?”

“Yes! That’s it!”

How can you nod along when you don’t even know the name?

“Whatever.”

I’ll try my best for Elinora. I move the plate with the ice cubes to the side and take two plates I used for transfer practice.

I’ll give one to Silvio.

I use ice magic to pile up shaved ice on the plates, making a fine, smooth texture.

“Wow, so fine. Al, you’re so skilled.”

Elinora watches intently as the fine, smooth ice piles up.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I feel a bit embarrassed by such innocent praise, even though I’m usually rough.

By the way, for this level of magic, no incantation is needed. I can do it without it, but with proper magic control, it’s easy.

The white, fine grains piled up on the plate remind me of rice, a staple food in Japan.

I’m tired of bread, soup, and pasta as staples. I’m definitely a rice person. Bread doesn’t give me energy.

“Here, shaved ice. Do you have a spoon?”

“No!”

Elinora says this boldly.

She probably wanted me to get it. Well, I have spoons prepared for practice, so they are safe and made of wood.

“Here, I have spoons too.”

“Al, you’re so prepared.”

While Elinora is happy, I stand up with another plate of shaved ice.

“Then I’ll bring one to Silvio too.”

“Fluffy and cold.”

She’s not listening anymore.

“Elinora, there’s a better way to eat shaved ice?”

“What? Tell me!”

Elinora, who was in a daze, returns to reality and approaches me like a wild beast.

She took the bait as expected.

“Shaved ice is better when you eat it all at once, not a little at a time.”

“Eh? That’s wasteful.”

“It’s more delicious that way. Try it, even if you think you’re being tricked.”

“Okay, I’ll try! If it’s gone, I’ll ask for more!”

“Sure, as much as you want.”

When I leave the room, I see Elinora eating the shaved ice like she’s shoveling it into her mouth.

Soon, her screams echo down the hallway.

---

Today, I want to expand our family’s food repertoire.

Thinking of rice when I saw the shaved ice made me miss Japanese cuisine.

I can’t make rice, so I’ll use wheat, our current staple, to cook.

I walk to the kitchen at the back left of the first floor of the mansion.

In the nearby maid’s break room, various information about the mansion is exchanged daily.

“It’s hot. Get out the ice.”

“It’s summer. You can’t get ice without a special magic tool in the capital.”

“It’s hot, so I want ice.”

“Here, here, drink some water.”

“I want a cold ale. Water is fine too.”

“Don’t be so picky. The water here is still cold.”

“I wish it would snow. Oh, by the way, Alfrid’s room was strangely cool the other day!”

“Alfrid’s room?”

“Yes! When I entered, the air was as cold as winter!”

“Is that true? Maybe Mina is delirious from the heat?”

“No, it’s true. I’m not delirious or dreaming.”

“Still, Alfrid doesn’t seem like a three-year-old.”

“I agree! He’s a genius, right? I even got a lesson in simple math. He lacks the dignity of an older person.”

“He’s definitely a genius, but his actions are a bit off. Besides, Mina never had any dignity to begin with.”

“I agree with the first part, but I disagree with the second.”

The maids are having a relaxed conversation.

Today’s topic seems to be about me.

It would be fun to listen, but I have a purpose today, so I pass by.

“Hey, kid! You’re here again today!”

The voice, like that of a kind uncle, comes from Baltor, the mansion’s cook.

The Slowlett family, being a newly risen noble family, has few connections and often lacks personnel.

Furthermore, my father Nord has few relatives since he was a commoner.

Most of the maids and servants currently working in the mansion are from my mother Elna’s connections as a merchant’s daughter.

Among them, Baltor is one of my father Nord’s few close friends from his adventurer days. He plans to open his own restaurant in the future.

Unlike the capital’s chefs, Baltor has a unique sense of seasoning that both my parents enjoy.

I prefer simple, ingredient-focused flavors over highbrow cuisine.

“Hey, Baltor. Can I use the kitchen today?”

“Oh? Aren’t you here to get a snack today?”

Baltor frowns and looks at me suspiciously. That face would make a child cry. He might be scarier than a local gangster.

“I want to try making something.”

“Can a kid like you even cook?”

“I can, I’m sure.”

I lived alone in Japan for a long time. I can cook to a decent level.

“Really?”

Baltor crosses his arms and gives me a skeptical look.

I meet his gaze without flinching.

The kitchen is a chef’s workplace and sacred ground. He can’t let a child play with the tools.

Baltor is testing me.

“Well, you seem serious, so I’ll let you. But I can’t let you get hurt, so I’ll stay with you.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what are you trying to make and why?”

He’s hiding his embarrassment with a gruff tone.

He’s a surprisingly cute person, despite his appearance.

“I want to make spaghetti. Do you know it?”

“Spaghetti? What’s that?”

“It’s a long, thin thing made with eggs, flour, a little oil, and salt.”

“Since it’s made with wheat, it could be a staple, right?”

“Yeah. If I can make it, it will greatly expand our food options.”

“Wow! I don’t know if you can do it, but go ahead! I’ll get the ingredients for you.”

I list the ingredients and tools I can think of, and Baltor prepares them one by one.

Since I’m short, I bring a chair to reach the counter.

I put eggs and flour (bread flour) into a wooden bowl and mix them with a spatula.

By the way, bread flour is made from hard wheat and is good for making pasta and ramen because it has a strong texture.

Cake flour, made from soft wheat, is good for tempura and cakes, but we don’t seem to have it.

“Wow, it’s getting solid.”

Baltor watches the solidifying process with interest. He’s probably thinking about how to apply it. His gaze is serious.

I add a little water and knead it on a board until it’s smooth.

“I need something to wrap it in.”

“Wrap it? How about using Muona leaves?”

“Leaves? Will they leave a smell?”

“No, Muona leaves don’t transfer smell or flavor to the food. Everyone uses them.”

“Then I’ll use them.”

I take the Muona leaves from Baltor. They are surprisingly thin and large. They’re a bit hard to wrap, but they should work.

The inventor of plastic wrap is a genius.

“Are you going to wrap it?”

“By wrapping it and letting it rest for about fifteen minutes, it becomes more pliable and easier to stretch.”

“Hmm, you know a lot. The way you handle the tools makes it seem like you’ve made this many times before.”

“Ahaha. Hey, Baltor! While I’m doing this, can you make a sauce to go with the long, thin noodles? Make the sauce!”

I ask Baltor to hurry, as I’m being cornered.

“Oh, a sauce. What kind do you want?”

“Most sauces will work, but tomato sauce would be best, right?”

“Tomato! We have fresh ones from my village! I’ll make it right away.”

I actually prefer tarako or cream, but tomato sauce is fine for now. The tomatoes from Coliat Village are delicious.

In this world, some ingredients are the same as in Japan, some don’t exist, some are similar, and some are completely unknown. It’s fascinating.

Most of all, I’m disappointed that rice isn’t available here. It must exist somewhere on another continent.

After about fifteen minutes, I stretch the dough with my hands since I don’t have a rolling pin, and then cut it into squares.

I need to make a rolling pin. I can’t cut it neatly.

Baltor seems to have finished the sauce and is watching me cut the dough seriously.

His face is scary. I almost cut my finger out of fear.

The noodles are uneven, but I’ll ignore it.

All that’s left is to boil them with a little salt.

The noodles float up quickly, so I scoop them out and put them on a plate, add the sauce, and it’s done!

“It really worked. The appearance could be improved, but the taste is the real test.”

He’s evaluating it bluntly, but his eagerness to try it is obvious from his face.

He’s already prepared his chair and fork.

“Let’s eat! Itadakimasu!”

I mix a little and twirl the noodles with my fork, and Baltor does the same, watching me.

So, how does it taste?

Yeah, it’s pretty good. Especially the tomato sauce Baltor made goes well with the noodles.

It’s a sauce that beautifully brings out the acidity of the tomatoes.

The noodles could use a bit more texture, maybe the cooking time was off? I’m not sure. I’ll leave the improvements to Baltor.

With that in mind, I look at Baltor.

“...It’s delicious! What is this!”

The spaghetti is quickly sucked into Baltor’s mouth.

Given his build, he could easily eat five servings.

“It was delicious.”

He slowly places his fork on the empty plate and speaks as if savoring the words.

“Yeah.”

I nod in response to his heartfelt comment.

“Kid. No, Alfrid, give me four, no, three days. I’ll make spaghetti that surpasses this!”

“Alfrid sounds creepy. Just call me kid. I’ll come to the kitchen often, so take care of me.”

“Got it! Come anytime!”

Baltor grins.

He’s reliable.

Three days later, Baltor let me try his new creation first.

The taste was beyond words. My spaghetti felt like a knockoff of udon or yakisoba.

That day, spaghetti appeared at our family’s dinner and caused a stir, leading to a spaghetti boom.

Especially the women in the family loved it, and we’ve been eating it every day for a week.

...I’m already tired of it.