The development of the new machine was stalling hard.
Every time we managed to understand one piece of tech, a new mystery would reveal itself. We’d assemble the thing, only for it to go on a rampage—over and over again.
To make matters worse, all our personnel were being diverted to analyze the Planet-class Battleship that Momo-chan had activated. We were at the absolute limit of our resource shortage.
Wifey was stuck in back-to-back meetings with the Galactic Empire every day.
Even if it was through a Gate, we had discovered a ruin of the Ancient People who possessed super-scientific power—and a functional one at that. There was no way the enemy side, the Zen Divine Race, didn't have weapons to counter it.
It was fine for the moment since the owner of this battleship was the Kingdom of Chronos, and the King was the Emperor's husband.
However, the problem was that I had become equal in rank to Wifey. Actually, in terms of sheer territory, Chronos had already become larger. People were constantly pestering me to become the Emperor of Chronos.
No way... being an Emperor means getting the official seal of approval from the Chronos Religion. It’s like the difference between being a hired manager and becoming the owner-founder.
The King of Chronos is like a Prime Minister, a "first among equals," but if I become an Emperor, I’m the chairman of the board. That’s way too much trouble for me.
I had even intended to let my children with Wifey escape to Chronos if they ever said, "I don't want to be the Emperor" in the future. Now, my own escape routes were being blocked one by one.
So sad...
Furthermore, the ones recommending me for the imperial throne were the Chronos Religion, the Latarnia Religion, the association of gaming monks, the Shrine Association...
I had nowhere left to run!
No! I don’t want to be an Emperor! There’s nothing in it for me personally or politically!
Chronos is better—if I become a nuisance due to illness or something, they can just force me to abdicate democratically! Who knows what I’ll be like when I get old?
So, I intended to grumble and resist until the very end just to secure the right to a forced abdication.
The stock of Yakisoba noodles was starting to run low, though the expiration dates were still fine. Consequently, I decided to make okonomiyaki.
Fresh noodles are tricky, aren't they? I was making the layered style with the Yakisoba inside. As I grilled, the usual bunch of noisy guys showed up.
"Aren't you putting in beef tendon? Or rather, let's just mix it into the batter," one man suggested.
"If you want your local food that badly, make it yourself!" I snapped.
"But it tastes better when you make it!"
When they put it like that, I couldn't really stay mad.
"Heheh!"
"Heheh!"
It was a stifling display of manly friendship.
"But I’m still not making it."
"Why not?!"
"Because I'm the one who wants to eat."
"G-Grrr, remember this!"
You’ll probably forget the moment you’ve got a full stomach.
Next, a woman approached.
"Aren't you putting in Kintoki beans?"
"Wait... you put those in?"
Kintoki beans? Seriously, wait—that was a food culture I’d never heard of.
"You don't know Mametama?"
"I don't..."
I accidentally made a dead-serious face. To think there was a local dish even the Galactic Empire didn't know about...
"I’ll look up the recipe next time," I promised.
"Thank you."
Then another woman arrived.
"I want to eat Shigureyaki."
"Another one I don't know!"
When I asked about it, it turned out to be almost the same as what I was currently making. I told her she’d have to settle for this.
"Modanyaki..." a muscular man muttered. That’s the version where the noodles are integrated with the batter. That one wasn't hard.
"Next time, okay?"
"Thanks a lot!"
Finally, another woman spoke up. "Hirachi or Dago."
"...One I know even less about!"
When I asked for details, it turned out she just wanted to chat about regional okonomiyaki. Hirachi was a vegetable version with chives, and Dago wasn't much different from what I was already making. Apparently, even a layered style—the kind where a rebellion might break out if I accidentally called it "Hiroshimayaki"—was acceptable.
While I cooked, Shi-yun stood there with her eyes sparkling. Given how much the Taikyoku Nation Citizens love their baseball, I’d suspected this would be right up her alley.
"Wait just a bit, okay?"
"Okay~!"
Now, regarding okonomiyaki, it’s apparently classified as a relative of the pancake. When I hear that, I think, "I guess so," but some part of me resists the idea to the bitter end.
"Make Khanom Fak Bua next time," another girl requested.
"Pardon?"
That was a completely new one. When I asked, it sounded like a coconut milk pancake, but apparently it required a vegetable called Bai Toey. I wasn't sure about it, so I tried to put it on hold, but she said she’d bring some and make it for me next time.
Regional ingredients are a nightmare!
Then, Rikochi showed up in her jersey.
"Hey, can I make Dosa and serve it to everyone next time?"
"Sure. Actually, I'm expecting more fights over regional food, so I'm counting on you."
Rikochi is a good cook. She even has her own dedicated kitchen that she’s opened up for the girls from the spice planet. She explained that Dosa is made by fermenting a batter with beans.
Wifey and Claire arrived together. Both looked like they were having a rough time, each with a lady-in-waiting in tow.
"I could have brought food to the two of you," I said. I could at least do that much.
"Kevin told me not to let my muscle strength drop," Wifey barked.
"Exactly. Even if it's a painless C-section, she said we still need our strength," Claire added.
I was glad to see they trusted Kevin.
"I see. Don't push yourselves, you two."
"Ahaha, it's okay. The lady-in-waiting is always with me, and I've got guards too," Claire said.
"Indeed. The medical team is here as well, so no problems will occur," Wifey agreed.
I guess that made sense. If they were okay, then I was okay.
"Don't overdo it, though."
"Yes, yes. We're fine."
But Hubby-chan is still very worried!
The news reports were already abuzz with the impending births of the Galactic Empire Prince and the Chronos Prince. Well, sure. But before that, it was Isono’s turn.
Isono’s wife, Hanako-san, was due any day now. Even the Persion Nation, which had become so submissive under Claire’s rule, was rejoicing.
Honestly, giving instructions for every little thing is a massive pain, so I want to shift them toward Liberalism! Sure, it might be easier for the citizens to have their path to happiness pointed out for them, but for the one doing the managing, it’s the height of annoyance! I don't know who wants what kind of happiness! Just do whatever you want!
The Parcion Religion became quiet once their preferential treatment was stripped away. You guys... were you really acting so high and mighty just because you were on the government's dime?
Meanwhile, my Funeral Buddhism is extremely popular. Because the funeral industry is so well-developed, it’s overwhelmingly convenient. It gives people a sense that they’ve actually done something for the deceased. It's much better for the psyche than just being incinerated with the trash. We even do proper joint memorial services.
Plus, we’d never dream of telling anyone to renounce their original faith. To begin with, temples in the Galactic Empire—a society with a low birthrate and an aging population—don't need parishioner income because they have diversified into cemeteries, kindergartens, and rental studios. Furthermore, the monks who came to outer space are often scholars in other fields as their main jobs.
Because of that lack of a business motive, the temples are incredibly popular. If anything, they have too many new followers.
As the Parcion Religion grew ever weaker, the births of Isono's and my children were being treated like galactic events.
In the midst of all that... I was trying to ignore a certain reality.
Specifically, the fact that the prototype number of the new machine was about to reach twenty-eight.
Stop it. Don't let Unit 28 be the successful one.
Seriously, stop it!