The Visit Of The Black-Haired Stranger (1)

I began today’s cooking. Today’s main ingredient is chicken.

For some reason, I felt like cooking chicken, so I served a chicken dish. It’s the chef’s recommended dish. Ah, but here it’s better known as Palenque.

Because a perfect system allows meat and various drinks to be served immediately upon order, there’s nothing special to prepare. It’s a system shown by a high-level magic called Time Stop, which even modern technology can’t rival.

Anyway, basic dishes are always prepared like this, so the chef’s recommendation depends on my mood.

The usual chicken dishes are a bit tiresome, so today it’s a different style.

First, I chop the whole Palenque into pieces.

Thwack!

Thwack thwack!

Bang bang!

I’m not venting stress on the Palenque. I’m just cutting it.

Ah, I cut too much.

Was my strength too much?

I was drunk from Rurin’s antics. When I woke, some memories came back.

So it was stress relief on the Palenque.

How many times did I blurt out “I love you” while drunk? It’s a magical phrase and a secret weapon.

It shouldn’t have triggered so easily.

Kwaang!

Ah.

I stopped chopping. If I kept going, the Palenque would be completely broken down to dust.

Like how Rurin was extremely embarrassed making skinship first with me, recalling yesterday was also embarrassing.

Anyway, calming down, I restarted cooking.

I cut the Palenque well and set it aside. I butter the iron plate. Then the butter’s aroma rises, a very appetite-stimulating smell.

Doing this right before the customer is very effective. The iron plate itself has charm.

On the hot iron plate goes minced garlic. It’s an incredible combo. Garlic mixed with butter on the iron plate releases an amazing aroma.

And onions.

I sauté the onions here, then quickly slice and chop carrots and tear up bacon made from uba, tossing them onto the plate and stirring.

Once the sautéed onions and garlic stick to the carrots and bacon and cook, I push them aside.

Now I make broth from Palenque, adding monton mushrooms and other ingredients.

I need to season a bit. I’m not making soup with this broth.

I transfer the sautéed ingredients to the pan and slice broad mushrooms broadly.

Then I add the broth I made earlier and distinctively scented balsamic vinegar, boosting the heat!

Then I strengthen the flavor further with wine.

Firing fireballs wildly makes it boil, of course. This is almost the final cooking stage.

Add Palenque, lower the fireball to level 1 for a weak flame, simmer about 30 minutes, and the dish is complete.

Season with salt and pepper.

Hmm, the smell of simmering is nice.

Rurin is still sleeping. I deliberately didn’t wake her. She stayed up all night yesterday.

I slept. That’s for sure.

When asked why she didn’t sleep, she said she was too excited to take a breath until morning?

She kept her eyes wide open watching me until I woke. I was surprised because she’s normally not awake in the morning.

Of course, she wasn’t awake, just hadn’t slept.

She usually sleeps by 2 am, so staying up all night meant she couldn’t possibly be awake.

Ding dong.

Then a customer came in.

The first dinner guest.

“Welcome.”

“Hello!”

A smiling, fresh-faced woman entered the shop. By appearance alone, she looked young—estimated late teens to early twenties.

She had black hair darker than Rurin’s.

Black is a rare hair color.

Somehow, she looked familiar.

Could she be a Black Dragon?

A Black Dragon I had met before?

I looked closely at her hair color, wondering if she was a Black Dragon, but no mana was felt.

“Is this your first time here?”

The woman who came in looked around then nodded.

“Yes. It’s my first time.”

Saying that, she naturally sat in the chair in front of the iron plate.

“I see. Hmm, what would you like to order?”

I asked for her order, but she just looked around with an amused expression.

Thinking she didn’t hear, I asked again.

“What dish would you like…?”

“Ah! I’ll have the recommended dish!”

“The chef’s recommendation?”

“Yes, that one, that one!”

“You said it’s your first time, so how do you know there’s a recommended dish? Interesting.”

Yeah, very interesting. When I asked, she went “Uhh?” and shouted,

“Oh, I just meant to say I want a recommendation? You know, I don’t know the menu well, so I asked for the recommended dish.”

“Is that so?”

Nodding.

She nodded vigorously. It almost felt desperate.

Is she a spy sent by the Black Dragon Elder?

Sent to spy on the married life?

If so, she couldn’t hide mana so perfectly. Black Dragons’ abilities are obvious.

Anyway, she ordered, so I must cook.

The Palenque dish I just made is not a single dish. First, soup is served. It’s called Cream Cheese Pumpkin Soup.

Chop chop chop!

Julienne the onions and smash the zucchini. Then pour in the broth I made earlier for the main dish.

The broth I made earlier is the continuing feature of this recommended dish.

Season with salt and pepper.

This is similar to the earlier dish.

Add smashed zucchini and onions, boil rapidly while mashing. Then use magic to mix it intensely. The point is to make it almost a liquid state.

Then boil again, add our restaurant’s pride—mozzarella cheese—and naturally, cream cheese too.

“That…”

“Yes?”

“No, nothing.”

Then she got up and gathered a spoon and fork. Normally, one can’t find both so quickly in the container on the table.

She was an increasingly suspicious customer. I deliberately used more magic, but she didn’t even blink.

She wasn’t surprised at all. Usually, ordinary people would be startled just by seeing a fireball.

Hmm?

She wasn’t a normal customer.

Anyway, since she said she was a customer, I served the pumpkin soup before her.

She wasn’t causing trouble or anything.

“Oh! It’s a dish I’ve never seen before.”

“Is that so?”

That’s a typical comment. People new to our restaurant usually say it’s a dish they’ve never seen before.

“Please try it.”

The woman picked up a spoon and ate the soup.

“It’s warm.”

“Because it was just made.”

“Does it taste good?”

She tossed her hair back, swallowed the soup, and nodded.

“Yes, it’s good. It tastes like what I always eat. I missed this ordinary taste. The cream flavor and pumpkin aroma blend well. But I prefer meat over pumpkin. Give me meat with it, ah! No, forget I said that!”

Huh?

Is that a compliment?

This ordinary taste?

If this were Earth, it’d be an ordinary French dish. But for people in this world, it’s far from ordinary.

And she said it’s a taste she always eats?

The woman said something that sounded stubborn.

Just as the large batch of Palenque dish I was making finished.

“Then please try this, it’s one of the main dishes. It’s a meat dish.”

“Ohhh! Meat. This is Palenque, right?”

“Yes. Miss, are you from this region? Greek City?”

“Yes?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve seen you downtown, and Palenque is a local specialty only available in Greek. I recognized it right away……”

“Palenque is Palenque, right? I just knew it. I’ve eaten it since I was born.”

The woman blinked, asking what I meant.

Well, maybe other cities succeeded in catching Palenque.

But since childhood?

That was long before I started selling Palenque at the market.

“Since childhood…? May I ask where you’re from? Where’s your hometown?”

“Uh-oh?”

“Yes?”

The woman made a strange noise, then twisted the ends of her hair and suddenly stood up.

“Th-that’s a secret!”

“A secret, huh.”

“Yes!”

So she insists it’s a secret. I shook my head inwardly. Very suspicious, but what can I do?

She said it’s a secret.

“Anyway, please try it.”

“I will!”

The woman sat down again, skillfully picked up a container, and took out chopsticks.

She left the fork aside and deliberately chose chopsticks.

“Let’s see. It’s Palenque. Hehe. Long time no see, Palenque.”

She picked up Palenque with chopsticks and greeted it, then began to eat.

There are no chopsticks at all in this world.

But she’s skillful with chopsticks?

Whether secret or not, I was baffled and got a headache.

Of course, regulars at our restaurant skillfully use chopsticks when eating noodle dishes. Those are true regulars.

Even my personal regular, Rurin, prefers forks over chopsticks.

And this dish is French cuisine, so it’s more natural to use forks.

But chopsticks.

Using chopsticks even for such dishes is a typically Korean trait.

For example, me.

I use chopsticks for just about everything.

There’s one more person who knows how to use chopsticks—the Black Dragon Elder.

This woman…

No matter how I think about it, her smile, hair color, and various things remind me of Rurin.

Of course, she has a completely different aura mixed in, so I didn’t notice at first.

Putting all this together.

A relative of Rurin?

Could she be the Elder of the Black Dragons…?

A secret daughter born late in life? Then she’d be Rurin’s aunt?

My head started to hurt.

The hypothesis was veering into strange territory.

“You use chopsticks well?”

“Yes?”

“Chopsticks… First-timers don’t even know what they are.”

She stared at me directly in response and blinked several times.

Then she looked back at the chopsticks.

She saw herself picking up Palenque with chopsticks and bringing it to her mouth.

“Ugh! Wh-what is this? Uh, uh-ah!”

Then she pretended to flick the chopsticks a few times and dropped them from her hand.

Clatter, roll.

The fallen chopsticks rolled on the floor. Of course, it was a very clumsy act.

“I don’t know how to use these. I just saw them and tried, that’s all!”

But you just took them out of the container…?

I didn’t press further. She’d probably say it’s a secret anyway.

“So, anyway, how does it taste?”

“It’s delicious. But I think Palenque tastes better spicy. This isn’t the usual flavor I often have.”

She said the soup was the usual taste, but this is not.

Slurp. Slurp.

And she quickly emptied the bowl.

“That was delicious!”

Saying that, she suddenly stood up.

“Oh, I’ll come back tomorrow to pay!”

“Huh? Customer? Miss!?”

Possibly flustered by the chopstick incident, she hurriedly ate and then dashed out.

The curious thing was that after she left, customers began coming in.

Not a single customer came while she was here.