"It’s almost time for lunch," Lulunese-san murmured just as we finished the latest round of experiments and had gathered a decent amount of data.
"Is it that time already? Let’s wrap things up for today, then. I’m sure everyone is hungry."
"Understood."
My simple suggestion became a formal directive as Lulunese-san relayed it to the group. As I watched the cleanup progress, I noticed Madam Elise wearing a troubled expression.
"Madam, is everything alright?"
"Ryoma-kun? Oh, there’s no problem in particular," she replied with her usual grace.
She didn't seem to be hiding any physical discomfort. Was I just imagining things?
"You looked a bit gloomy, so I was worried you might be feeling unwell."
"Oh, was I? Thank you for your concern. It’s nothing serious, really. It’s just that lunch is coming up..."
Lunch? That was an unexpected answer. I suppose my confusion must have been written all over my face, because she gave a small, weary chuckle and continued.
"You know that winter, specifically the end of the year, is the social season for the nobility, right? There are countless parties, large and small, and many opportunities to dine with others. But... to put it bluntly, the food served at those events is absolutely dreadful."
"Come to think of it..."
It felt like ages ago, though it hadn’t even been a year since the party for the completion of my shop.
"You said something similar back then. That Noble Cuisine was a waste of money and tasted awful."
At the time, they had praised my cooking so highly that I’d wondered if the Ducal House normally ate far better food than I could provide. I remembered being met with a fierce counterargument then. Still, every meal I’d had since arriving at this mansion had been delicious and high-class.
"Party food is a different beast entirely. Some households eat it regularly, claiming it's the only way for a noble to dine, but we don't agree. We stick to normal food for our daily lives. Even when serving guests, we decide which style to present based on who they are."
I see. It was best to think of them as two entirely different cuisines.
"Since you’re bringing this up now, does that mean we’re having party food for lunch?"
"Exactly. If we're going to host a party, we have to finalize the menu. Even when we aren't the hosts, we're invited out so often that we can't very well refuse to eat what’s put in front of us. That’s why we eat it in small doses during this time of year—just to build up a tolerance. Are you... interested, perhaps?"
"I’d be lying if I said I wasn't."
I was genuinely curious about any meal the Madam would describe in such a way. However, party food was surely more expensive than a regular meal. Asking for a taste out of mere curiosity felt a bit bold.
"I don't recommend it, but if you truly want to try it, I won't stop you. I really, really don't recommend it, but there should be an extra portion from the trial run. If you ask the Head Chef, he should be able to prepare a plate for you. Though, again, I don't recommend it."
"Then... if it's not too much trouble, I would like to try it."
My curiosity won the battle.
"Very well. Once it’s ready, I’ll send someone to call for you."
Before I knew it, the cleanup from the experiment was finished.
Then came the lunch hour.
"Hello, Ryoma-kun. How was the experiment?" Reinhardt-san asked.
"Thanks to your help, it was very productive."
While waiting for the food in question to arrive, I engaged in some small talk and reported my findings to Reinhardt-san.
"During the morning session, I managed to narrow down the direction we should take for the product."
I had been worried the participants might be intimidated given the circumstances of their "punishment," but they were unexpectedly relaxed and offered their honest opinions quite freely. There were two dominant, yet contradictory, requests:
First, they wanted a strongly scented sugar scrub. Second, they wanted a completely unscented sugar scrub.
The supporters for each were almost evenly split. As someone who had assumed fragrance was the primary selling point, this was a surprise.
When I dug deeper, I found that those seeking strong scents were almost exclusively the commoner women among the servants. Conversely, the demand for unscented scrubs came from the men, certain female servants, the Madam herself, and high-ranking staff like Lulunese-san, Libiola-san, and the Madam’s personal attendants.
My interviews revealed several key points for the women who wanted fragrance:
- Fragrant oil is a luxury item, not something they can use daily.
- Some types are entirely out of reach for commoners, so it feels incredibly high-class.
- It’s a massive bonus if the scent lingers on their skin after the bath.
Essentially, for a commoner woman, using fragrant oil is a special treat. Even mixing a single drop during the experiment made them feel wealthy. One girl even began suggesting ways to use the lingering scent to "appeal" to men after a bath.
Libiola-san had been on the verge of scolding her for discussing such suggestive topics with a "child" like me, but I stepped in to shield her with everything I had. That was honestly the most exhausting part of the entire experiment.
"That sounds like quite the handful," Reinhardt-san remarked.
"Regardless, their opinions were invaluable for commercialization."
"That’s good to hear. And what about the reasons for the unscented group?"
"There were various factors. Some simply dislike the smell of fragrant oils—a minority overall, but that was the opinion of almost every man I asked."
"Ah, I understand that. I’ve never been fond of the heavy scent of cosmetics myself," Reinhardt-san admitted.
So Reinhardt-san felt that way too? Actually, so did I.
"And here I thought women went through all that trouble just so you’d think they were beautiful..." the Madam murmured.
"I know you put in a great deal of effort, dear. I’m not denying that," Reinhardt-san added with a quick, practiced follow-up.
I couldn't tell from the Madam’s expression if that was the "correct" answer for a husband, but I continued with my report.
"The kitchen staff also preferred unscented versions because a strong fragrance would interfere with their work or get them scolded. As for the Madam and the senior attendants, since they use their own expensive perfumes daily, they preferred an unscented scrub so it wouldn't clash with their preferred scent after the bath.
One kitchenmaid mentioned she actually wanted a scented one, but she’d have to use the unscented version because of her job. Understanding these differences in perspective based on occupation and status was fascinating."
As a roadmap for product development, we would target commoner women with scented oils and focus on unscented or lightly scented versions for everyone else. Personally, I was also hoping to use the fluid from my Deodorant Slimes—a variant that evolved from Cleaner Slimes eating charcoal—to create an unscented scrub with even better cleaning properties.
I realized I’d been rambling a bit. "My apologies, I seem to have gotten carried away."
"Not at all. I enjoyed hearing the breakdown. You managed to extract quite a bit of data from a single trial."
"Everyone was very cooperative. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this, and I found I was actually having fun."
I did my own slime research regularly, but since leaving the forest and opening the shop, my responsibilities had ballooned.
"The things I can do and the things I must do have increased so much compared to when I was living alone in the forest. I suppose I haven't had many chances to just focus on a single project lately... Oh, but please don't think I regret leaving! Meeting all of you and everything that’s happened since has been wonderful. I'm very happy with my life now."
I hurried to clarify, fearing I might have sounded ungrateful. My panic must have been obvious, as the Madam and Reinhardt-san both gave me warm, gentle smiles. It was a little embarrassing.
"..."
"Excuse me."
The tension broke as the door opened. Thank goodness—I was starting to feel a bit stifled by the silence.
However, as I looked at my hosts, I noticed that while they were maintaining their composure, their spirits had clearly plummeted the moment the food arrived.
"Today’s trial menu begins with an Albon Salad as an appetizer, followed by a beef soup..."
The Head Chef, Batz-san, had brought the dishes out himself. As he gave a brief explanation, the maids solemnly set the table.
Finally, it was time. My first taste of authentic Noble Cuisine.
Following the lead of the two across from me, I started with the salad.
"...?"
It was... actually normal. It tasted like avocado. The flavor was slightly different, but it was a perfectly delicious salad. Aside from the gold leaf sprinkled on top for decoration, there was nothing unusual about it.
"This salad is excellent. You can really taste the quality of the Albon," Reinhardt-san noted.
"I heard the Albon crop was particularly good this year," Batz-san replied. "It’s highly nutritious and perfect for the season. One plate like this wouldn't go for less than ten Small Gold Coins."
I nearly choked. Ten Small Gold Coins for this one plate? There were only four or five bites of food here. Had I just swallowed two gold coins in a single mouthful? This was the pinnacle of luxury ingredients.
"Ryoma-kun? Are you alright?"
"Oh, yes. It's delicious. I was just... a bit taken aback by the price."
"That’s quite understandable. But for a noble’s party, this is standard. And you have to provide that for every guest."
"If I may ask... how many guests usually attend?"
"Well... it depends on the scale, but usually in the hundreds."
Ten Small Gold Coins per plate for just the appetizer, for hundreds of people... the scale was beyond my imagination.
"Fufu, it’s not often we see you make a face like that," the Madam teased.
"Now, Elise, don't tease him too much."
"So, was that price a joke?" I asked.
"No, that part was entirely true," she said.
"I know it seems like a lot, Ryoma-kun," Reinhardt-san added, "but spending money on parties is almost a noble’s duty. It’s how we circulate wealth back into the world."
I could understand the logic, but the sheer numbers were hard to grasp. Before I knew it, I’d finished the salad. Matching their slow, refined pace made it feel like it was over in the blink of an eye.
I felt it was a bit of a waste, but next was the soup—a beef broth seasoned with chili peppers. The deep red color looked a bit ominous, but strangely nostalgic.
"!!"
The moment I took a spoonful, a piercing heat exploded across my tongue. I recognized this immediately. This was the exact level of heat found in those "Extreme Spice Challenges" back in Japan.
"Cough! My... apologies..." Reinhardt-san hacked.
The Madam was silent, her face contorting in visible agony.
"Are you two alright?"
"Yes... I just... it's been a while, and it caught me off guard," Reinhardt-san gasped. "Ryoma-kun, are you... okay?"
They both looked at me in shock because I had spoken perfectly normally. I took another spoonful.
"I can actually eat this quite easily."
In my previous life, my boss had often dragged me to those "Spice Level 10" challenges. Besides, this soup wasn't just hot for the sake of being hot.
"The spice hits you first, certainly, but if you focus past it, the beef broth has a wonderful, deep umami flavor. It’s actually quite good."
Unlike those prank dishes meant to be inedible, I could feel the chef’s care here. It was incredibly spicy, yes, but he had clearly tried to make it taste good despite the heat. It would be torture for someone who couldn't handle spice, but I was perfectly fine with it.
The portion was small, and I finished the bowl in no time. I didn't even reach for the water, which left the maid standing nearby with a pitcher looking utterly stunned.
"Well now... that truly makes me happy. To think you'd taste the flavor beneath the fire," Batz-san said, sounding deeply moved.
"At noble parties, expensive spices and luxury ingredients are used in excess. There are even traditional standards for heat, from Spice Level 1 to Spice Level 10. Honestly, as a chef, I often wonder who would actually enjoy eating something so painfully hot."
Spice Level 1 to 10? That sounded exactly like the challenge menus from my old world. Whether it was intentional or a coincidence, I had a feeling a previous Otherworlder had a hand in this "tradition."
"Even so, I always try to make it as palatable as possible for those who have to eat it. Knowing my efforts reached you... it means a lot. Thank you."
I was surprised to be thanked so sincerely. "Is it really that hard for others to eat?"
"Unless you're from a house that eats this regularly, it's brutal," Batz-san explained. "Commoners don't have access to these spices, so the flavor is just too overwhelming. Even I, the one who cooked it, have to ask—how can you eat that so calmly?"
"I've... had something similar in the past."
As I gave my usual vague answer, Reinhardt-san spoke up. "That’s right, Ryoma-kun's hometown in the Shulls Great Forest is a region where many spices grow wild."
"Yes, exactly. Chili peppers and black pepper were quite common there."
"I see, hometown cooking... If you have the time later, would you mind telling me more? It might give me some hints on how to make these spicy dishes even more delicious."
"I don't know much, but I'll share what I can."
My conversation with the Head Chef ended there. I was glad to hide behind the "hometown" excuse, but I was still reeling from the realization that "Extreme Spice Challenges" had become a noble tradition here.
Then came the next dish. "Roasted beef with Cacao Sauce."
This time, the sauce was incredibly bitter. It was like chocolate, but without a hint of sugar or milk—pure, concentrated cacao.
By the time I finished the rest of the meal, I had learned the full extent of the "tradition." Depending on the party, there were not only dishes of Extreme Heat, but also Extreme Saltiness, Extreme Bitterness, Extreme Astringency, Extreme Acidity, and Extreme Sweetness.
Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. I really wanted to find the person from the past who started this and give them a piece of my mind.