Prologue — Encounter With Ramen

They said that the “strange man” had started appearing about a year ago.

A man would appear on the outskirts of the castle town of Fahrenheit, pulling a peculiar cart, and night after night he would serve the townspeople a mysterious dish unlike anything they had ever seen or heard of before… Its name was “Ramen”!

Apparently, he never charged a single coin and simply handed out the food for free. What was more, they said it tasted unlike anything they had ever eaten before—and was unbelievably delicious.

Having heard those rumors, I, Rinsir the elf, also made my way to Fahrenheit.

Embarrassing as it was to admit, I considered myself something of a “gourmet.” Since most elves lived on the bounty of the forest, other races tended to assume that we were indifferent to flavor.

That, however, was a misconception. We elves were highly skilled at identifying poisonous substances, so our sense of taste was actually fairly keen, and since we also frequently ate animals hunted in the forest, we were quite discerning when it came to meat as well.

Even among elves, I prided myself on having an unrivaled palate and knowledge of cuisine, having spent a full hundred years living in a nation populated by many different races and pouring most of my earnings into my passion for fine food.

Elves were said to be light eaters, but if the food was delicious, I could eat almost without limit. I was confident I could put away far more than the average human, and I had even competed in eating contests against dwarves and ogres, races famous for their enormous appetites.

In other words, I was the greatest glutton in the entire elven world!

Now then, it was already past two in the morning… The only light came from the faint crescent moon, while darkness pooled all around us. Yet that darkness positively seethed with ravenous desire as everyone waited impatiently for the appointed moment….

Hmm? It seemed word had already spread, and my fellow gourmets were gathering as well….

Still… would this rumored man truly appear?

According to what I had heard, he did not come every single night, and there were days when he failed to appear. After piecing together several dubious rumors, I had concluded that he apparently followed a seven-day schedule: six days of appearances followed by one day of rest.

Having reached that conclusion, I grinned.

I see. The cycle ordained by Chronoa, God of Time, runs in eleven-day intervals, so perhaps this man follows some unusual religion of his own.

The countryside was home to all manner of peculiar regional cuisines. He was probably from some absurdly remote backwater no one had ever even heard of. His food must simply have an unfamiliar flavor, and that novelty had made it a sensation among the sophisticated gourmets of the city…!

I chuckled to myself at my own coolheaded analysis.

Still, he was late… Could today perhaps be one of his days off…?

But at last, the moment arrived.

Cha-ra-riii~ cha-ra♪ cha-ra-ri cha-ra-ra~♪

A peculiar melody echoed out of the darkness. Then, accompanied by the rattling clatter of wheels, a bald man appeared with a metal flute held to his lips.

A twisted cord was wrapped around his head. Astonishingly, his clothing was pure white from head to toe. With attire so utterly devoid of ornamentation, he looked almost like a clergyman!

The cart he pulled was surprisingly large and made of wood, shabby and completely unpainted. A bright red cloth hung from one side, with what appeared to be writing drawn upon it.

I had no idea what the symbols meant, but if I reproduced their shapes precisely, they looked like this:

“Proud of Our Flavor—Ramen”

There were more symbols on the bright red paper lantern hanging at the rear of the cart.

Again, I had no idea what they meant, but faithfully reproducing them yielded the following:

“Ramen Taiyo”