The recovery drones returned.
A manifest of the loot scrolled across the bridge’s cargo monitor.
Intact machine guns and reactors, salvageable wreckage, electronic components, and metal scrap—it had all been shoveled into containers. The haul was... well, it was substantial.
『General-Purpose Synthetic Food 'Tasty Cube' (Beef Flavor) × 43』
『General-Purpose Synthetic Food 'Tasty Cube' (Chicken Flavor) × 28』
『Synthetic Rum × 3』
『Synthetic Gin × 2』
『Synthetic Shochu × 4』
"...It’s a mountain of junk and scrap."
"Wait, there’s actually a decent amount of booze. Now that I think about it, I seem to remember there were things like buff cocktails in the game."
I sighed as I scanned the manifest.
Because I’d sliced the pirates up so cleanly, I’d managed to recover a fair amount of their armaments and engine components.
Selling these to a junk shop would net me some pocket change, but... what I was really after was real food.
As expected of space pirates, their diet was clearly dismal. The alcohol was likely bottom-shelf swill, too.
However, one item at the very bottom of the list caught my eye.
『Storage Case (Biometric Lock) × 1』
"...What’s this?"
Precious metals? An illegal data chip?
With my heart racing between hope and anxiety, I ran down to the cargo sorting deck where the loot had been delivered.
There sat a rugged metal case.
Perhaps it was the pirate captain’s personal stash? I used a hacking tool to force the lock.
With a soft pshuu of escaping air, the lid popped open.
Enshrined inside, nestled deep within thick shock-absorbing material, they sat.
『Instant Noodles: Galactic Soy Sauce Flavor × 3』
"...Huh?"
I couldn't believe my eyes.
Styrofoam cups. Those paper lids you have to peel back.
And on the garishly colored packaging was a photo of curly noodles being lifted by a pair of chopsticks.
There were only three. But they were stored as carefully as if they were rare jewels.
"...They’re actually here."
My hands trembled as I picked one up.
"They’re actually here! Why didn't I notice them before?!"
Looking back, I’d been so traumatized by that stew—the kind that would kill you if you ate it—and the mountain of garbage 'Tasty Cubes' recommended right after that I hadn't bothered to browse the market properly.
My vision had been clouded. My bias—the idea that there is no decent food in this world—had caused me to overlook this pinnacle of human wisdom.
"Lucia! Water! Get me some boiling water!" I shouted, holding the cup aloft.
But Lucia simply kept her cold gaze fixed on me and shook her head.
"Master. I find this very difficult to say, but..."
"What? Are you going to tell me we’re out of water? There’s enough in the tanks to sell for a profit."
"We have water. However, this ship is not equipped with the facilities to output water at a boiling temperature."
"...Huh? We have a kitchen, don't we? I'll just boil it there—"
"No. This ship does not have a kitchen."
"...Huh?"
My brain ground to a halt.
"Y-You're joking, right...?"
I felt my knees go weak.
No kitchen? No, wait.
Back in the game, there was an 'Interior/Housing District'.
It was a feature that let you take a vast, empty room and install things like a system kitchen or a bar counter to customize the interior to your liking.
But back then, I’d thought:
I should just go play a farming sim or a block-building game if I want to do housing.
Because of that, I’d only installed districts that provided status buffs or practical gameplay functions.
"You complete idiot!"
I wanted to punch my past self.
So this was the fate of an efficiency freak. A high-tech starship that couldn't even boil water was nothing more than a glorified tin coffin!
"T-That’s it! The shower! The shower has a water heater, right? Just get the boiling water from there!"
"That is impossible. The ship's plumbing has strict temperature limiters to prevent scalding accidents. It will not exceed forty-two degrees Celsius."
"Tweak the settings!"
"The limiter is on the hardware side. Modification would require specialized engineering work."
"Dammit...! Then use the replicator! It’s an all-purpose generator, right? Just make boiling water with that!"
"That is impossible. The replicator cannot generate molecular structures for anything other than registered recipes. A recipe for 'boiling water' does not exist in the database, and adding new modeling data requires the purchase and installation of a 'Physical Installer'."
"...What?"
It made sense, in a twisted game-logic sort of way. A replicator that only functioned on game recipes naturally couldn't produce something as simple as hot water.
"...To provide further clarification."
As if reading my thoughts, Lucia delivered the final, merciless blow.
"The number of valid recipes currently registered to this ship's replicator is zero. Due to the system initialization, all locally saved data has been purged."
"...I see. Even the ammunition."
"Yes. The generation codes for military supplies are protected by strict Digital Rights Management and Military License Locks. Unless a formal license key is purchased and physically installed, this ship's replicator is merely a decorative box."
"It can't make ammo, it can't boil water... This ship is a useless hunk of junk!" I screamed.
I was trapped.
The ultimate junk food sat right in front of me.
I had water.
But I lacked the "heat" to cook it.
I looked at the pile of loot scattered across the floor.
Electronic parts. Metal scrap. The wreckage of a small reactor. The battery from a broken laser machine gun.
"...If I don't have one, I'll just have to build one."
A spark of life returned to my eyes.
I grabbed my survival knife and my tool set.
I cut a section of metal pipe—likely part of an exhaust duct—from the scrap pile and used a pair of pliers to crimp the bottom, shaping it into a container.
I yanked the high-output battery from the damaged laser gun and scavenged a bunch of electronic components to find a conductor that could serve as a heating coil.
"Master? What are you...?"
"I'm jury-rigging an electric kettle!"
I worked with feverish intensity.
In my old life, I was a liberal arts major who knew nothing about electronics. I barely even remembered Ohm’s Law.
And yet, my hands moved with a mind of their own.
I knew exactly which terminals to connect and how much voltage the materials could take. The knowledge from my Technical Perk was feeding the answers directly into my brain as pure intuition.
Soon, a misshapen device was complete.
I wired the battery directly to the coil and wrapped it around the metal container.
The insulation was shoddy at best, but as long as I didn't touch the live wires, it would be fine.
I poured in the water and flipped the "switch"—which was really just me touching the wires together.
With a dangerous crackle, the water began to bubble almost immediately.
"...It’s boiling."
The water churned and hissed.
With a triumphant grin, I peeled the cup’s lid back halfway.
Inside were dried noodles, powder soup, and a pitiful amount of dehydrated toppings.
"This is it... This is definitely not that uniform 'clay' texture. I was worried for a second it would be filled with paste."
I poured in the boiling water.
Exactly up to the inner line.
I closed the lid and waited for three minutes.
It was long. Those three minutes felt like an eternity.
I stared unblinkingly at the timer on the console.
『...2 minutes 58 seconds, 59 seconds, 3 minutes. Process complete.』
"The reveal!"
I ripped the lid off.
In that instant, an explosion of aroma filled the bridge.
The savory scent of soy sauce. The aggressive umami of chemical seasonings. And that distinct, junk-food smell of fried noodles.
It wasn't the refined fragrance of a high-end ramen shop.
It was that unmistakable scent of someone slurping noodles near the entrance of a late-night convenience store, in a university hallway, or at an office desk during the middle of a late shift.
It was a seductive scent that bypassed reason and punched my hunger reflex right in the gut.
I lifted the cup, cradling it in both hands.
It was warm.
The heat bleeding into my palms was the ultimate proof that this was a real meal.
"...Thanks for the food."
I didn't have chopsticks, so I used a fork to lift the noodles.
The curly strands rose from the depths, coated in brown broth. Steam billowed up, tickling my face.
It wasn't clay. Each strand was its own distinct entity.
I blew on them—foo, foo—and slurped.
Slrp!
"——!!"
It was hot.
The heat of the soup raced down my esophagus and settled in my stomach.
This was the "temperature" that the Space KATSU-DON had lacked.
And the noodles...
They didn't have that uniform, rubbery bounce of synthetic clay.
The surface was slick, and they had a satisfying snap when I bit into them. I could feel the curly texture dancing against my lips.
The saltiness of the cheap broth acted as the perfect foil for the sweetness of the wheat—or whatever grain was in the noodles.
"...So good..."
Tears actually welled up in my eyes.
It was heart-wrenchingly delicious.
It tasted like the cup ramen you’d eat after a long day at the pool as a kid, or the flavor of a meal after pulling an all-nighter. It was a taste that soaked into my very soul.
I followed up with a mouthful of soup.
It was salty. It tasted like it was bad for my health. It was the kind of flavor that made you thirsty.
But for a body drained by cold sweats and fatigue, that saltiness was the greatest feast imaginable.
"...Analysis complete," Lucia announced tonally. "High sodium, high fat, and a massive bolus of carbohydrates. Vitamin content is negligible. Master, what about this unhealthy solid is 'good'? The General-Purpose Synthetic Food 'Tasty Cube' is far superior in terms of nutritional balance."
"Shut up... This junkiness, this heat, this feeling of eating... that’s what a real meal needs."
I took my time, savoring every single strand until they were gone, then drank the soup down to the very last drop.
I even cherished the tiny, mysterious bits of "meat" left at the bottom of the cup.
I could feel the grease and salt diffusing through my veins. It felt like I was finally coming back to life.
"...Phew."
I set the empty cup down and let out a satisfied sigh.
I had two left. I’d save them as precious emergency rations.
"Well, time to get back to work."
With a full stomach, my mind suddenly felt a lot more composed.
I returned to the pilot’s seat and corrected our trajectory, which had drifted slightly during the pirate encounter.
Our destination, the 'Third Mining Colony', was almost in sight.
"...Man, I'm thirsty."
I asked Lucia for some water as I spiritedly opened the throttle on the Sperm Whale.
Now that's a real meal!
If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, please consider leaving a "★" rating!
It might just help Akitoshi's dinner tomorrow get a little bit of an upgrade. Thank you for reading!