The ship’s clock had already ticked past 2:00 AM.
With the Gardener, that massive alien object, secured in its hold, the Sperm Whale glided through the silent void as if skating on glass.
I stood alone in the kitchen.
It wasn't that I couldn't sleep; it was just that the stillness following the day’s chaos always seemed to stir a peculiar hunger in me.
"...Alright, let's get to work."
I pulled a plate covered in plastic wrap from the fridge.
Inside were trimmings of Star Tuna left over from the day's prep. I had been marinating them in a special sauce—a reduction of synthetic soy sauce, mirin-style seasoning, and a splash of sake.
I’d made sure to store them in my jury-rigged mini-fridge rather than the high-tech freshness preservation freezer. If they stayed frozen, the flavor would never penetrate the meat. Now, the fish had turned a deep amber, glistening with a rich, velvety luster. They were perfectly "zuke"—marinated to the core.
I scooped a portion of steaming synthetic rice into a bowl and began arranging the ruby-colored tuna on top. One slice, two, three... I was generous, layering them until not a single grain of white rice was visible.
I had no seaweed or wasabi, but this was already a feast in its own right.
Usually, dry synthetic rice requires a lot of effort to make palatable, but tonight, I was going the extra mile.
A golden liquid bubbled gently in a small pot on the stove. This was my special seafood dashi, made by roasting the Star Tuna’s head and bones before simmering them into a concentrated stock.
"...Smells incredible."
The briny scent of the ocean mixed with the savory, smoky aroma of charred bone rose with the steam.
Just as I lifted the pot, a voice drifted from behind me.
"...Hmph. Up in the dead of night making something delicious again, I see?"
I turned, pot still in hand.
Professor Stein stood there, dressed in a loose shirt that served as his pajamas. He had approached with the silence of a ninja.
"...You’ve got a sharp nose, Professor."
"A researcher’s instinct. I’m quite sensitive to the signs of unknown phenomena and the scent of good food."
Without waiting for an invitation, the professor took a seat at the counter. Apparently, I didn't have a say in the matter.
I let out a quiet sigh and reached for a second bowl.
Two bowls sat side-by-side on the counter.
I carefully poured the piping hot dashi over the edge of each bowl.
Sizzle...
With a faint hiss, the surface of the amber tuna began to turn a pale white. Bathed in the scalding broth, the exterior of the fish tightened instantly, while the center remained perfectly rare. The heat drew out the tuna’s fat, sending an energetic golden film blooming across the once-clear soup.
"Ho... A rustic fragrance, yet remarkably delicate."
"Go ahead. Eat it while it's hot."
The professor picked up a spoon and took a tentative sip of the broth.
"...Mmm."
The old sage let out a long, deep breath, his glasses fogging over instantly.
"It seeps into the soul. I can feel it flowing directly into my very core."
Next, he scooped up a mouthful of the blanched tuna and rice. He blew on it frantically before shoving it into his mouth.
His eyes snapped wide open.
"The surface crumbles away, but the center clings to the tongue with a buttery texture. This temperature contrast! And the sweetness of the rice after it’s soaked up the dashi... This is a truly sinful flavor."
I dug into my own bowl.
The contrast between the boiling dashi and the cold sashimi was sublime. As I bit into the semi-raw fish, the warmed fats burst with flavor. It was pure bliss—a gentle yet powerful wave of umami descending into my late-night stomach.
For a while, the only sound in the kitchen was the rhythmic slurping of chazuke.
Once the bowls were empty and the professor was contentedly sipping on some tea substitute, he suddenly turned a piercing gaze toward me.
"...Akito-kun. Who are you, really?"
The bluntness of the question made me pause, my hand frozen as I was setting down my cup.
"The specifications of this ship. This obsession with and knowledge of 'food' that defies the common sense of this galaxy... You carry yourself like someone who came from the 'outside'."
The air in the room grew heavy.
I looked back into the professor’s eyes. I didn't see suspicion, but rather pure intellectual curiosity mixed with a glimmer of conviction.
"...Who knows? I'm just a gluttonous transporter."
I tried to play it off, but the professor simply chuckled.
"Heh, fair enough. If you aren't talking, I have no intention of telling anyone else."
He straightened his collar.
"A debt for a night’s lodging and a meal, was it? Your culinary skills are worth far more than you realize. To me, at least, they are rarer than any classified intelligence."
"I appreciate the sentiment. But you’re overestimating me."
"Humility is not always a virtue. In this universe, things that are unthinkable by the standards of a single planet happen all the time. Much like this tuna."
The professor traced the rim of his empty bowl with a fingertip.
"Do you remember when that 'Spider' fellow—Zaid—referred to me as a big shot?"
"Yeah. You seemed like old acquaintances."
"We are. My name is listed among the Sage Council, the Empire’s highest hall of wisdom."
The Sage Council.
I frowned. I remembered them from my gaming days. Even if I hadn't dealt with them directly, they were the supreme advisory body that managed the Empire’s technological secrets and historical archives.
"The reason I’m permitted a certain amount of... recklessness and illegality isn't because the auditors are incompetent. It's because the Sage Council is a repository for knowledge that usually remains untouched. That includes information regarding visitors from different universes... and different dimensions. What do you think?"
The professor’s eyes narrowed. He wasn't joking.
Even if he hadn't landed on the word "Player," he had deduced the possibility that I was a "visitor from the outside."
"...Professor. What do you know?"
"Nothing. It’s merely a hypothesis. However..."
The professor stood up and gave my shoulder a firm pat as he prepared to leave.
"In my eyes, Lucia-kun is a far more precarious existence than you are."
"Lucia?"
"Her design philosophy, and that extraordinary autonomous learning capability... She is no mere high-end model. If my eyes haven't failed me, she is..."
He trailed off and offered a meaningful smile.
"But no, saying any more would be boorish. Thank you for the feast, Akito-kun. It was a magnificent midnight snack."
The professor waved a hand dismissively and vanished into the darkness of the corridor.
Left alone, I stared into my cooling tea.
(Lucia is precarious, huh?)
I chewed on his words.
It was true that Lucia, much like the Sperm Whale itself, was an entity pulled directly from the game world I had played. If my memory served me, her recruitment quest was tied to the Empire—and it had involved diving deep into its inner workings.
If this universe was a parallel to the game world, there was no way she was "just a maid."
As the professor suggested, she might be the most dangerous variable of all.
The scent of dashi lingered in the kitchen, but beneath the savory aroma of cooked fish, it now carried a mysterious, unsettling aftertaste.