Chapter 7

Johann-Gustav was first surprised by the warmth inside the shop.

He only knew of standing bars where cold drafts blew through the gaps. But this place was different. Despite its small size, it had chairs for people to sit and enjoy their food and drinks comfortably. The fact that such consideration had been given suggested that there was some hope for a pleasant experience.

He gestured for his companion to take a seat first, then looked around the shop again.

The walls were covered with signs written in a foreign script, which seemed to be the menu. This added to the atmosphere. While wiping his hands with the warm, thick handkerchief called "oshibori" that was naturally offered, he savored the ambiance of the place.

The presence of a menu indicated that the shop expected literate customers and showcased the chef's skill in offering a wide variety of dishes. The symbols written below the text, if they represented prices, also showed the chef's pride in maintaining consistent prices despite fluctuations in the cost of ingredients.

Johann-Gustav found himself liking the place even before tasting any of the food.

At the same time, he felt a twinge of unease at the thought of imposing unreasonable demands on such a wonderful chef.

"What would you like to order?"

The female server asked with a gentle expression, neither rude nor overly polite.

"Hmm, ... Hildegarde, what would you like to eat?"

Johann-Gustav asked the young girl, Hildegarde, who was with him. He knew it was an unpleasant role to play, as the answer was always the same.

"I want something delicious that isn't smelly, spicy, sour, bitter, or hard, and isn't bread, potatoes, porridge, eggs, or stew."

The girl, Hildegarde, with her doll-like features, always made unreasonable requests. In the ancient city during winter, the available food was limited, and most of it was either smelly or heavily seasoned to mask the odor. It was impossible to find something that wasn't bread, potatoes, porridge, stew, or eggs and was still delicious.

Hildegarde didn't really expect to get such a dish; she just enjoyed watching the chef struggle with her unreasonable requests. It was a rather mean-spirited game.

Hildegarde, though only twelve, was soon to be married. Johann-Gustav, feeling responsible for her, had brought her to this well-reputed izakaya in the city, hoping to provide some comfort. However, he knew it was a slim hope.

Feeling apologetic, Johann-Gustav glanced at the server's face, but there was no sign of the expected troubled expression.

"Something delicious that isn't smelly, spicy, sour, bitter, or hard, and isn't bread, potatoes, porridge, eggs, or stew, correct? Please wait a moment."

She confirmed with a cheerful voice and relayed the order to the chef, who simply nodded. What could they possibly serve?

Despite appearances, Hildegarde was the daughter of a viscount and the heir. It would be problematic if she were served something strange. Having lost her parents at a young age, Johann-Gustav, her uncle, had taken on the role of a parent and had somewhat spoiled her. He doted on her as if she were his own daughter, and his desire to see her off safely and in good health was strong.

He felt ashamed of his worry about the chef's inability to meet unreasonable demands, never expecting that the real concern would be the dish itself.

The female server skillfully placed an iron box in front of Johann-Gustav and Hildegarde. No, it wasn't just a box; it seemed to be a portable small stove. He wondered which blacksmith had come up with such an ingenious design and wished he could invite him to his own domain.

"Be careful, it's hot!"

As she said this, the server turned a knob on the box, and a blue-white flame lit up with a soft whoosh. This was impressive. A ceramic pot was then placed on the fire. It seemed the idea was to cook the dish right in front of the customers, a thoughtful touch on a cold day. The freshness of the food was crucial, as even the most delicious dishes would lose their flavor if they cooled before reaching the table. Enjoying freshly cooked food was a luxury that even nobles rarely experienced.

Inside the pot, something green and leaf-like was submerged. It was probably seaweed. Could this be the dish that wasn't smelly, spicy, sour, bitter, or hard, and wasn't bread, potatoes, porridge, eggs, or stew?

Hildegarde watched the pot with eager eyes as the water began to bubble. Of course, having been raised under the strict care of a nursemaid, she had never seen water boil so closely. Even bathwater was carefully prepared to avoid burns.

The server slowly slid a white, square object into the pot. It was something they had never seen before. This must be the dish.

Johann-Gustav, Hildegarde, the server, and the chef remained silent.

The only sound in the shop was the gentle bubbling of the white object in the pot.