Chapter 46: The Catalyst and the Warmth
“Whyyyyyy wasn’t I inviteddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd!?!!”
“W-Wait, let’s talk about something else! Anything else! Uh… right! Why don’t you tell me why you decided to become a chef!?”
Somehow managing to calm down the enraged Tardolf, who was still fuming over not being invited to the hotpot party, I desperately steered the conversation in another direction.
And so, I asked him why he had chosen the path of a cook.
“The reason I became a royal chef is hardly an interesting story.”
“That’s fine! Just tell me!”
“…Very well.”
Tardolf leaned back against the cold stone wall.
“I was originally a knight. It has been more than thirty years since I left that profession and became a court chef.”
And so he began his story.
According to him, he had been born into one of the Kingdom of Elde’s more distinguished knightly families.
His father had been a respected warrior.
His grandfather before him as well.
Naturally, young Tardolf had grown up with the expectation that he would someday inherit that legacy.
From childhood onward, his days had been filled with training, drills, and swordsmanship practice.
“As the eldest son, I was raised strictly so that I could one day succeed my father.”
His expression darkened slightly.
“Unfortunately, I possessed a fatal flaw.”
“A fatal flaw?”
“I had absolutely no talent with the sword.”
“With the sword…?”
“Indeed.”
He nodded.
“No matter what I aimed at, my blade somehow failed to hit it. The only reason I was accepted into the knight order at all was because of my father’s influence.”
A bitter smile crossed his face.
“Calling me incompetent would have been generous.”
…Wait.
Was this story becoming a lot heavier than I expected?
“Naturally, those around me despised me.”
His voice remained calm, but there was an old wound hidden beneath the words.
“I became a knight through nepotism. I was useless in battle against monsters.”
He snorted.
“And to make matters worse, I possessed an enormous amount of pride. A thoroughly unpleasant combination.”
“T-That sounds… rough.”
“It was.”
Tardolf folded his arms.
“But then one day, the Royal Knights and the Temple Knights held a joint training exercise.”
A nostalgic look appeared in his eyes.
“At that time, I was assigned kitchen duty.”
“Oh?”
I leaned forward.
“Then that’s where your hidden culinary talent awakened!?”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Huh?”
“My cooking was universally hated.”
There was a brief pause.
“Many people told me horse manure would have tasted better.”
“…”
“…”
“Ehhhhhh!?”
Now I was even more confused.
How exactly did someone go from horse-manure-level cooking to becoming the kingdom’s head chef?
“As I said earlier, my pride was immense.”
Tardolf’s eyes narrowed.
“So I swore I would prove them wrong.”
Something dangerous gleamed behind his smile.
“Until the next joint exercise, I completely abandoned my knightly training and devoted myself entirely to cooking.”
“Wait, hold on.”
I blinked.
“You abandoned your training?”
“Indeed.”
“You just… stopped?”
“I did.”
“You were supposed to become a knight!”
“I was.”
“You really committed to this!”
“My father certainly thought so.”
Tardolf laughed.
“When word reached him, he scolded me more fiercely than ever before.”
Then his grin widened.
“Unfortunately, my wounded pride knew no limits.”
…Oh no.
“I punched my father.”
You punched him!?
“He disowned me.”
YOU GOT DISOWNED!?
“And then, at long last, the second joint exercise arrived.”
I swallowed hard.
The dungeon suddenly felt very quiet.
Even the smell seemed to fade as I waited for the conclusion.
Tardolf slammed a fist into his palm.
“I showed them all!!”
His voice thundered through the cell.
“I cooked meals so delicious that people declared I was better suited to being a chef than a knight!”
“…Does that actually count as getting revenge?”
Tardolf ignored me.
A gentle smile appeared on his face.
“Even now, I can still remember the smiles of those who ate my food that day.”
“Tardolf-san…?”
He gazed upward toward the dungeon ceiling.
For the first time since I had met him, the stubborn craftsman’s face softened completely.
There was no irritation.
No pride.
No bluster.
Only quiet warmth.
“Until then, I had simply obeyed my father’s wishes and drifted through life as a knight.”
His voice grew softer.
“But seeing those smiles…”
A faint chuckle escaped him.
“I wanted to see them again.”
The silence lingered.
“And so I became a chef.”
“Th-That’s actually really cool!”
“Hmph.”
Tardolf crossed his arms, clearly embarrassed by the praise.
“My story is finished.”
He pointed at me.
“Now it is your turn.”
“Eh?”
“EH!?”
“No, no, no!”
I waved my hands frantically.
“After a story like that, mine sounds completely boring!”
“You listened to my entire life story.”
Tardolf grabbed my collar.
“There is no universe in which you get away without sharing yours! Confesssssssssssssssssss!!”
“Gahhh! Stop shaking me!”
He seized my shirt and began violently shaking me back and forth.
My vision blurred.
Combined with the dungeon’s terrible smell, I genuinely thought I was about to throw up.
“Fine! Fine! I’ll talk!”
The shaking stopped immediately.
“My parents died in an accident.”
Tardolf fell silent.
“After that, my grandfather took me in.”
The memory surfaced clearly in my mind.
A lonely house.
A quiet dinner table.
A grief-stricken child trying desperately not to cry.
“My grandfather wanted to cheer me up, so he started cooking for me.”
“I see!”
Tardolf nodded confidently.
“So your grandfather’s food was incredible, and you dreamed of becoming a chef just like him!”
“No.”
“Hm?”
“It was so bad that after eating it for about a week, my arms and legs started going numb.”
“…”
“…”
“I realized I might actually die.”
Tardolf stared.
“I beg your pardon?”
“To this day, I still remember the taste.”
I shuddered.
“It was unforgettable.”
Not in a good way.
“I looked at that meal and thought…”
“Oh.”
“If I don’t learn how to cook, I’m going to die.”
“So I started teaching myself.”
At first, cooking had been a chore.
A huge one.
I had just lost my parents.
Everything felt exhausting.
But survival was survival.
At the time, I still desperately wanted to keep living.
So I bought cookbooks.
Read recipes.
Burned food.
Ruined food.
Repeated the process.
Again and again.
Until eventually I could make meals worth eating.
“My cooking was originally for myself.”
“Hm.”
Tardolf rubbed his chin.
“But your food contained warmth.”
“…Warmth?”
“The warmth that exists only in food prepared for another person.”
His gaze sharpened.
“That warmth was present in your Relative Rice Bowl.”
“Oh.”
I thought about it.
“If that’s true, then it probably only happened during the last few years.”
After all…
Before arriving in this world, I had only cooked to survive.
The first time I truly cooked for others was after reaching Papel Village.
I had wanted to get along with the villagers.
So I cooked.
And when people smiled…
When they said it was delicious…
When they eagerly reached for seconds…
I found myself happy.
Really happy.
That feeling had probably changed my cooking.
“Hmmm.”
Tardolf stroked his beard.
“I do not believe such warmth can appear after only a few years.”
“Huh?”
“Perhaps.”
His voice softened.
“You cared for your grandfather far more than you realize.”
“…You think so?”
“It is merely my opinion.”
Tardolf shrugged.
“But I believe your greatest talent is cooking for others.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That is a rare gift for a chef.”
Talent.
Hearing that from someone like Tardolf…
Honestly?
It felt pretty good.
“…Maybe when I get out of here, I’ll open a restaurant in Papel Village.”
“Oh?”
Tardolf’s eyes lit up instantly.
“Now that is interesting!”
His excitement exploded.
“I shall visit every single day and uncover the secrets of your otherworldly cuisine!”
“If you cause trouble, I’ll ban you immediately.”
“Hah!”
Tardolf threw back his head.
“You greatly underestimate my ability to ignore banssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!”
“See, this is why you’re scary. You just randomly switch modes.”
And then—
A voice echoed from the corridor outside.
“H-Hey! Who are you people? If you wish to visit prisoners, you’ll need proper authorization—GAAAAAHHH!?”
A scream.
A real one.
Not joking.
Not exaggerated.
A scream filled with terror and pain.
Tardolf and I immediately turned toward the corridor.
Looking through the bars, I saw a horrifying sight.
A knight lay collapsed on the floor.
Blood covered his armor.
Standing over him were two men dressed entirely in black.
Both held drawn swords.
My stomach dropped.
The men searched the fallen knight’s body.
A moment later, they retrieved a ring of keys.
Then they started walking toward us.
“There.”
“I see them.”
“Which one?”
“The younger one.”
“And the other?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
A cold voice answered.
“Kill him.”
A chill ran down my spine.
These men weren’t criminals.
They weren’t thieves.
They weren’t ordinary thugs.
The killing intent pouring from them was unmistakable.
“W-Who are you people!?”
“We have no intention of introducing ourselves.”
One of them inserted a key into the lock.
“Relax.”
The man looked directly at me.
“You are merely a hostage meant for the Saintess.”
The lock clicked open.
“If you cooperate, we won’t kill you.”
But the murderous aura directed at Tardolf said otherwise.
The second man never took his eyes off him.
Not once.
The door swung open.
The assassins stepped inside.
Crap.
Crap, crap, crap.
They’re going to kill him!
“Fool.”
Suddenly—
Tardolf moved.
“HUH!?”
For a moment, my brain couldn’t process what happened.
One instant, the assassin was advancing with his sword.
The next—
Tardolf had grabbed his arm.
Twisted.
Turned.
And hurled him clean over his shoulder.
“GAAAAAHHH!?”
The man crashed into the stone floor.
Hard.
“W-What!?”
I stared.
“Tardolf-san, you’re ridiculously strong!?”
“Hmph.”
Tardolf rolled his shoulders.
“Before I picked up a kitchen knife, I spent more than ten years wielding a sword.”
The second assassin scowled.
“Damn old man.”
A dangerous silence followed.
Then—
“I AM ONLY FORTY-FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!”
The dungeon shook from the sheer volume of his roar.
The switch had flipped.
Again.
Like an enraged bull, Tardolf charged.
Sword flashing.
Footwork precise.
Body movements efficient and refined.
Nothing about his technique resembled the incompetence he had described earlier.
“Gah—!”
The assassin staggered back.
“You never told us he was this skilled…!”
“Hah!”
Tardolf slammed the sword’s hilt into the man’s solar plexus.
The assassin’s eyes rolled back instantly.
Thud.
He collapsed unconscious.
“…”
“…”
Holy crap.
That was amazing.
With practiced efficiency, Tardolf confiscated their weapons and keys.
Then he dragged both men into the cell.
Locked the door behind them.
And calmly dusted off his hands.
“All right, Eight-sama.”
He flashed a grin.
“We’re escaping.”
“Huh?”
“Wouldn’t escaping prison be a terrible idea?”
“Think carefully.”
Tardolf’s expression hardened.
“The fact that assassins reached the castle dungeon means someone inside helped them.”
My blood ran cold.
“One accomplice?”
He shook his head.
“Perhaps two.”
Another shake.
“Perhaps three.”
A pause.
“Perhaps far more.”
The implication was obvious.
“In a situation like this, remaining in our cell and waiting is far too dangerous.”
“Th-That’s true…”
I swallowed nervously.
“But where exactly are we supposed to go?”
Tardolf’s grin widened.
A grin filled with confidence.
“Do not worry.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I know the perfect hiding place.”
And somehow…
That answer worried me even more.