Two weeks passed, and the shop was buzzing with activity as we balanced our daily operations with preparations for the upcoming festival.
During those two weeks, everyone had been sprinting in different directions—recreating recipes from their hometowns, refining the cooking processes, and coordinating with the representatives from the Morgan Company regarding security and customer service.
Despite the frantic pace, morale remained high. I felt a quiet sense of relief watching them.
In my previous life, the company I worked for hosted annual "recreation events" supposedly designed to foster unity. In reality, they were nothing more than self-indulgent projects for the upper management. Only the organizers ever seemed to have any fun; the rest of us were forced to attend simply because it was a corporate requirement. We ended up wasting our precious holidays for nothing.
I understood the intention. A united workforce is always better. If it’s just a company tradition, I suppose it can’t be helped... but I never wanted the people working for me to have the same hollow expressions those employees had.
Fortunately, everyone seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves for now. Their motivation only grew as the food stall began to take physical shape.
Furthermore, unexpected help had arrived from beyond our own staff.
"Manager! Mr. Sieg from the butcher shop is here!"
"Coming!"
I stopped my work on the lot and headed to the reception room.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Not at all. I just brought today’s delivery. I’ve already moved the goods into the kitchen."
"...This is a bit cheaper than we agreed on, isn't it?"
"Consider it a small bonus since you're buying in such bulk."
Sieg was one of our key collaborators. Not only was he sourcing all the meat for our trial runs, but he had also agreed to bring his own staff to help run our stall during the festival. When I’d bought a massive amount of ingredients for the trials a few days ago, he’d asked what I was up to. After I explained the situation, we eventually reached this arrangement.
Apparently, Sieg and his employees all wanted to spend time with their families during the festival, but they were worried about overspending and catching flak from their wives. Our interests aligned perfectly: they would help us for one of the two festival days in exchange for wages.
By joining forces, the burden of preparation on their end was lightened, and they earned extra spending money for the festivities. On my end, it reduced the workload for my own employees and created a great opportunity for community outreach.
Once that win-win relationship was established, Pauline—Sieg's wife—and her friends, Kiara and Mary, caught wind of it. The three of them had volunteered to help with the trial cooking and the actual event under the same conditions. Even now, they were in the back kitchen working with Shelma.
Interestingly, thanks to the neighborhood wives' information network, news of the Semroid Troupe’s performance had spread like wildfire. Pauline told me that a massive number of her friends were planning to show up to support her... I started to worry we might see a repeat of the crowds from our grand opening. I’d have to prepare for the worst-case scenario.
"I’ll see you tonight, Ryoma," Sieg said as he headed back to his own shop.
I returned to the vacant lot. Tonight, this space would host a mixer that would double as the final tasting and selection for our menu. I had to at least get the basics in order before then.
That night, after business hours concluded.
I was checking over paperwork in the manager's office while waiting for the guests when Caulm arrived.
"Manager, Mr. Serge and the representative of the Semroid Troupe have arrived."
"Thank you."
I hurried to the reception room.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"A pleasure to see you, Master Ryoma," Serge said. "Allow me to introduce the leader of the Semroid Troupe."
"I am Prenance Semroid. Though I am but a fledgling, I lead this troupe of traveling performers. It is an honor to meet your acquaintance, young sage."
Sitting on the sofa next to Serge was a strikingly handsome man. His hair, shimmering like spun silver, was exceptionally eye-catching. He stood to offer a handshake, and I accepted, though his mannerisms struck me as a bit... theatrical.
"The pleasure is mine. Please, just call me Ryoma. I’m hardly a sage..."
"Oh? Master Ryoma is as humble as they say. The music boxes—the delicate melodies woven by the magic tools inside those small cases—are truly magnificent. They possess a 'flavor' entirely different from our own live performances. To think our songs can be captured and shared with so many... who else would I call a sage if not the one who conceived of such a thing?"
Was it really that groundbreaking for a musician? Or was he just laying on the flattery?
It was a bit rude of me to think so, but my first impression was that he was going to be difficult to deal with.
"I suppose... thank you?"
"I am the one who must thank you. To provide us with both the music boxes and a stage upon which to show our craft is a blessing."
"It’s just a vacant lot I use for training sometimes, but you're welcome to it."
"I caught a glimpse of it on the way in. It is more than spacious enough; my companions are already delighted."
"Are the others here yet?"
"Yes, they have already headed to the mixer."
Everything was going according to plan. I didn't want to discuss the technical details of the music boxes or my role as the inventor in front of a crowd, so we’d gathered the representatives here first to finalize things.
"Then let’s not keep them waiting. Shall we get to the final confirmations?"
I proceeded with the briefing.
"So, we will leave everything regarding the stage and performance to the Semroid Troupe."
"Leave it to us. It is a grand stage, the likes of which we rarely have the honor to grace. We shall ensure it is a show to remember."
A "grand stage," he called it. Apparently, despite their growing fame, they usually performed in cramped city squares or inside taverns. They rarely had the chance to perform in a space designed to hold a massive audience like this.
"I look forward to it. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Serge or Caulm are your best points of contact for supplies or logistics, but if you need help with heavy lifting like moving crates or setting up the stage, I’m happy to lend a hand."
"We are grateful for everything."
"Moving on... oh, that was the last item on the list."
"Indeed," Serge noted. "We can stay in touch as the situation develops."
"Then shall we head to the party?"
With the business concluded, we moved to the venue.
"It’s quite a scene," Prenance remarked.
The lot now held six temporary stalls I’d constructed with earth magic. Each was the size of a standard festival stand, equipped with the bare minimum needed for cooking. A crowd had gathered around them—my employees, the neighbors, and several men and women I didn't recognize.
"Hey! Ryoma! Get over here!"
It was Rick. Leni and Tony were with him. They were the family members of our helpers, making them valuable "monitors" who could give us a child’s perspective on the food.
"I’m starving! Mom said dinner was on the house to—mgh!"
"Don't run your mouth! Just stay quiet!" Pauline hissed, covering his mouth.
"Ahaha..."
"Manager, good work," Caulm said, approaching me. "Shall we begin?"
"Yes, let's."
"Then please, give us a short greeting."
I wasn't sure if I was the best person for a speech, but as the host, I stood before the crowd with a drink in hand.
"Thank you all for joining us tonight despite your busy schedules. I am Ryoma Takebayashi, the owner of the Bamboo Forest laundry shop. I’d like to say a few words."
I felt Rick’s impatient glare boring into me.
"...It seems some of you are eager to get started, so I’ll keep the boring talk brief. As you know, we’ll be running stalls at the upcoming Founding Festival. My hope is that, as neighbors sharing the same space, we can support and cooperate with one another. Consider tonight the first step toward that. Many of you are meeting for the first time, so please take this opportunity to enjoy yourselves and make some new friends. Cheers!"
"Cheers!!"
Forty voices rose in unison. Even with a relatively small group, the sheer energy was palpable.
The cooks immediately split off to their stalls. Most of the prep work was already done, so it didn't take long before the mouth-watering scents of various dishes began to waft through the air.
As the guests started eating, I moved through the crowd to hand out voting ballots.
Each person received a set of ten slips. They were to cast five votes for "dishes they were most interested in trying" at the start, and then another five votes for "dishes they found most delicious" after eating. The final menu for the festival would be decided based on these results.
"This is quite a turnout," Prenance said, walking over with a plate in one hand. He was accompanied by a man in his fifties.
"Fortunately, yes. How is the food?"
"The flavors exceed my expectations. Even the rest of my troupe is... well, look for yourself."
He pointed to a corner where I’d set up tables and chairs. A group in traveling clothes was laughing and talking with the locals. My attention was immediately drawn to a vivacious woman who was systematically demolishing a mountain of food.
"Does she catch your eye?"
"I’m just impressed by her appetite," I admitted.
"Hahaha, quite. That’s Maiya. She’s the biggest glutton in the troupe."
"She’s a woman who only became a performer so she could travel and find new things to eat," the man behind Prenance added with a sigh. "I’m Soldio. I’m a sword dancer, like Maiya."
"It’s a pleasure to meet you."
I wasn't entirely familiar with the term, but I assumed it involved performing with blades.
"Dancing solo, displays of precision cutting, or coordinated group movements. We do a bit of everything," Soldio explained.
"He is Maiya’s uncle," Prenance added. "He serves as our vice-leader and our primary guard. He’s a veteran swordsman in his own right. Festivals often attract brawlers, so if things get rowdy, don't hesitate to call for him."
"That’s very reassuring. I’ll feel much better having more professionals watching the shop."
"If my hands are free, just yell. You can put Maiya to work, too."
"Put me to work for what, Uncle?"
Maiya had appeared behind Soldio, empty plates in both hands.
"I was just telling the manager we’d help with security."
"Oh, sure. And hey, you’re the boss? I heard you were young, but you’re really just a kid, aren't you?"
"Maiya! That’s rude," Prenance scolded.
"It’s fine," I said. "It’s a simple fact." I didn't get the feeling she was mocking me.
"More importantly, are you enjoying the food?"
"Absolutely! Some of this is totally new to me, and even the stuff I recognized surprised me. Like that hot dog—the bread is so fluffy and the sausage is incredibly juicy. I’ve been all over, but it’s rare to find a stall that hits that level of quality."
Hot dogs were a festival staple here, but ours used bread made with the natural yeast I’d introduced to Shelma. Sieg’s team had then created custom sausages specifically seasoned to complement that bread. Finally, Pauline had grilled them to perfection. It was a simple dish elevated by professional ingredients—definitely a front-runner for the final menu.
"And that Jilmar dish," Maiya continued. "The soup clings to the noodles perfectly. It’s comforting and warms you right up."
Fei and Li Ling had prepared Pa-mien. It was a dish that sat somewhere between a dumpling soup and wontons. The ingredients were simple, but the long-simmered meat and vegetables created a deep, rich broth. I personally enjoyed pairing its mild flavor with a side of stir-fried meat and vegetables cooked in semisa oil.
"There are some interesting snacks here as well," Prenance noted, pointing to a plate of roasted, salted Dante seeds. I’d originally bought them to try and make dandelion coffee, but apparently, they were a delicacy in certain regions.
The more I learned about Dante plants, the less I knew if they were closer to dandelions or sunflowers... but the roots made coffee, the seeds were edible, and I could press them for oil. I’d used scavenger slime fertilizer and wood magic to mass-produce them.
"I’m glad you like them. We have plenty of ingredients, so please, help yourself. But save a little room—we’ll be serving the sweet desserts soon."
"Really!?" Maiya’s eyes lit up.
The sweets were the area where I had the most personal input. I’d prepared sesame tofu and sesame dumplings.
The sesame tofu was made by grinding semisa seeds into a fine paste, adding potato starch, and cooking it until smooth before letting it set in a mold. We served it chilled with a drizzle of brown sugar syrup.
For the sesame dumplings, I made a paste from semisa and brown sugar. We wrapped that in a dough of glutinous rice flour, water, and Dante oil, coated the outside in raw semisa seeds, and deep-fried them in Dante oil.
I had been very specific about using Dante oil for the frying. Semisa oil had such a powerful aroma that if you used it for deep-frying, it would completely overpower the food. Dante oil, on the other hand, was much milder with just a hint of toastiness. My Appraisal showed it was high in oleic acid—a high-quality, nutritious oil.
The only problem was the yield. It took fifteen grams of seeds to produce a single milliliter of oil. A single batch of frying required about 800 milliliters, which meant processing twelve kilograms of seeds. It was a labor-intensive process, though I found the physical work to be good magic training.
While I was thrilled with the taste, the labor and the cost of brown sugar and rice flour were significant bottlenecks. We’d have to charge at least twenty suut per dumpling, which was expensive for festival food.
I’d prepared a cheaper "sesame pastry" using standard wheat dough as an alternative, so there was a good chance the dumplings wouldn't make the final cut.
When I told Maiya that, her expression turned serious.
"In that case, I'd better eat my fill of them tonight!"
She gave me a determined nod and immediately headed back to the stalls to scavenge for more. She’d already eaten enough for three people, but it didn't look like she was slowing down.