episode_0078

78. Chicken Time

Fried chicken with steam curling up in wisps.

Food prepared by professional chefs who learned the recipe from me.

Admittedly, there was a difference between a professional and an amateur like me—someone who only memorized recipes while briefly helping at my parents’ shop part-time.

After a few mistakes, they managed to produce something far better than the prototype chicken I had made.

“…10 out of 10.”

“I’ve learned so much!”

The chefs bowed deeply in gratitude.

Though it looked like a mentor-disciple relationship, I hadn’t taught them anything beyond the recipe.

Still, if they’re happy with it, then it’s fine…

After loading the chicken onto a serving cart, I headed back to the banquet hall.

Carefully pushing the door open with my hip, I entered…

“…Then once we lured them in, we bravely pushed alongside the soldiers—sending those damn 10,000 Black Coin troops plummeting off the cliff.”

“Honestly, even compared to that… Oh? Has Squishy arrived?”

The atmosphere in the banquet hall was far more relaxed than when I had last seen it.

I glanced around.

Grace’s people were all present without exception…

Albarun, Ellara… Even Taishi, who had supported Lyliana as she left, had returned.

Unfortunately, Lyliana—who had seemed ready to fight Erica—hadn’t come back.

As I scanned the room for Lyliana, Erica approached me with a pout.

Despite her petite frame, she crossed her arms to emphasize her irritation, glaring at me.

“…I’m right here.”

“Ah, I was just checking where to place this.”

“……I’ll let it slide just this once.”

Seems she wasn’t fond of the tension from earlier with Lyliana.

It would’ve been better if they could just get along and avoid fighting.

Pushing aside my disappointment, I lifted the silver-covered tray from the serving cart.

One by one, I quickly placed a portion at each table where people were seated.

It felt strange…

Fried chicken that should’ve been served in a paper box was instead elegantly plated on expensive silverware—giving off an odd vibe.

Regardless, the meticulously polished silver tray and lid could’ve doubled as a mirror.

Without hesitation, Erica lifted the lid from her plate.

“…Hmm.”

First-time jitters between her and the chicken before her.

Yet surprisingly, Erica didn’t seem particularly impressed by its appearance.

“A messily battered piece of poultry. The aroma is pleasant, but…”

“Sure, the presentation isn’t perfect, but isn’t it cute? It’s your first time seeing golden meat, right?”

“I like it—it looks like gold-coated meat. Is there actual gold in this?”

“Is this oil…? I thought oil was hard to digest and best minimized.”

Erica wasn’t the only one—the other sisters reacted similarly.

At least Vivian tried to speak positively, while Adel seemed to enjoy it based on her tastes.

Honestly, having grown up with the formula “chicken = delicious,” my mouth watered instantly…

But if someone saw it for the first time, it probably wouldn’t look appetizing.

Dripping oil, messy crumbs, and a strange cooking method involving flour-coated meat—fair enough.

Still, I kept smiling.

If they took just one bite, they’d be conditioned like Pavlov’s dogs—associating the sight with deliciousness.

An overwhelming flavor would prove visuals don’t matter.

Alice, who held something akin to faith in me, was the first to spear a chicken leg with her fork and take a bite.

**—Crunch**

“Meat isn’t supposed to make that sound.”

As the crispy frying sound echoed, Taishi recoiled in horror—sweating nervously.

In this era, meat was typically tough and chewy, so the reaction was understandable.

Even Erica looked unsettled.

But Alice chewed, puffing her cheeks like a hamster.

As everyone nervously watched, the woman who’d unwittingly become a taste tester gave her verdict.

“The past…”

A quiet preface before elaboration.

Given her vast knowledge, she likely didn’t want to judge lightly.

“Before the Empire split…

During the age of warlords, the first Emperor—an unparalleled hero—once suffered defeat after defeat, fleeing in tatters.

In his dire state, a kind Samaritan offered him meat.

He described its taste as ‘an unrivaled delicacy of the ages.’”

A well-known tale among everyone but me.

Alice finished her explanation before lifting the chicken leg skewered on her fork.

“Do you think the meat Emperor Pendleton the Founder ate could’ve been more delicious than this?”

Hmm…

So basically, she’s implying this could rival legendary flavors.

One simple “It tastes good!” would’ve sufficed, but her cultured review was needlessly elaborate compared to mine.

Still, I appreciated the heartfelt evaluation.

“See? Squishy couldn’t have failed. Mmm…! Delicious!”

“You were worried too earlier! I said it looked golden from the start—turns out I was right. Mmm… As expected, anything golden is precious.”

“This is good.”

Relieved, Vivian, Adel, and Luna began tearing into their chicken.

Praise was inevitable.

“Forgive my earlier rudeness—I thought calling it transcendent was excessive… Yet after one bite, I take it back entirely.”

“Hoho, I wouldn’t dare dispute calling this the finest dish I’ve eaten in my long life.”

Penrose—who had rejoined Grace’s forces after his defeat—was among the admirers.

Even the gracefully aged Lukarion, who had weathered many years, showered compliments.

“Having sampled countless delicacies, never have I tasted meat so exquisite.

I dare say—few beauties in this world could rival its splendor.”

Albarun, who’d eaten all manner of foods in the north, agreed.

“Calling you a genius doesn’t do you justice—‘chef’ feels insufficient. As expected of the Master…”

“Sis, you’re not eating the leg, right? Can I have it?”

“…?”

“N-No joke! Don’t glare like that…”

Even Ellara and Taishi were behaving like real sisters now.

And Erica Grace—arguably the most important figure present—was eating barehanded instead of using utensils.

“Delicious.”

“Ah… Sis, at least use some etiquette…”

“That’s more disrespectful—holding back when tempted by something so alluring.”

Utterly unconventional, as expected.

The K-chicken had won unanimous praise.

Though lacking soda, the joyful banquet rolled on alongside beer.

────────────────────

Rewinding three hours earlier…

Lyliana Pendleton—reduced to a tearful, drunken mess—was being carried back to her room with Taishi’s support.

“Big Sis, you okay?”

“Yeah, you can put me down now. My chest was squished—felt suffocating.”

Pressed against Taishi’s back, her ample chest had flattened like dough.

After catching her breath, Lyliana stepped into her room—her crimson eyes now sharp, her steps steady.

Inside, she sat on the bed and gazed through the window at the city’s lights, music faintly drifting in.

“You okay now, Big Sis?”

“Yeah… The alcohol’s wearing off. Sorry for the pathetic sight, Taishi.”

“No! I’m sure you had a deep reason for—”

“Shh.”

Silencing Taishi with a finger pressed to her lips, Lyliana smiled faintly.

Grateful for Taishi’s excuses, she knew they were in enemy territory now—silence meant survival.

“You can go back now.”

“Sis…”

“Don’t worry.”

After reassuring Taishi, she sent her off.

Then, Lyliana approached the wall and knocked.

***Knock knock***

No echo—as if the walls were solid.

After verifying no hidden listeners lurked, she checked the windowsill’s railing outside.

“It seems no one’s eavesdropping or watching.”

Her earlier drunken act had fooled everyone.

Now safe, she sat on the bed, arms crossed, lost in thought—mapping Redmain’s layout in her mind: weak points, strongholds, the mansion’s structure.

And then…

“Cain…”

Worry for one man.

Taishi had told her Cain was taken away by a general called Vivian.

Living like an animal in a cramped workshop, denied proper rewards—even sexually harassed by Erica in her absolute authority.

Lyliana cursed her own helplessness.

“If only I’d had a little more power.”

More soldiers, her own land instead of relying on Albarun…

She could’ve crushed Erica and saved him.

Or if she’d recruited him without hesitation when they first met…

As self-loathing swelled—

***Knock knock***

—a knock echoed at her door.

Clutching a hidden dagger in her skirt, Lyliana hesitated before slipping into her drunk act.

“Mmm… Whozit…?”

She swayed with deliberate imbalance toward the door, heart pounding in her chest.

Steeling herself, she flung it open—revealing Cain.

“Huh? You’re awake?”

Startled, he stood there—one hand holding a silver tray of chicken, the other balancing a steaming drink and supplies.

Unable to open the door himself, he’d waited.

Lyliana’s facade faltered, surprise breaking through.

“Ah—c-come in first!”

Flustered, she took one tray from him.

With a hand freed, Cain awkwardly smiled and stepped inside.

Lyliana discreetly slipped her dagger under the bed.

“Sober now?”

“Mmm… Yeah…”

“That’s good. I was a little worried earlier.”

After setting the chicken on a dessert table, Cain took the other tray from Lyliana and placed it nearby.

“What’s this…?”

“Something I made. I went to the banquet hall, but you weren’t there…”

Scratching his head, Cain seemed embarrassed—unsure if he’d overstepped.

Lyliana nearly lost control, wanting to throw him onto the bed—but restrained herself, knowing the dagger lay hidden there.

Forcing a smile, she expressed gratitude.

“Thanks… You made this for me?”

“Yeah. I brought it because it’s for you.”

Cain explained the tray’s contents.

“This is honey water—great for hangovers. Drink it now or when you wake up.

This is a toothbrush and mint—brush before bed to avoid cavities.

So make sure you brush, okay?”

His thoughtfulness was touching… yet unsettling.

Why did he seem so practiced at this?

Did it relate to being dragged off by General Vivian or harassed by Erica?

The more she imagined, the heavier her chest felt—like ice water trickling down her heart.

Finally, she asked:

“You seem used to this. Have you done it often?”

“Huh?”

“Taking care of someone like this.”

Watching him tensely, she awaited his answer.

Casually, Cain set down the honey water and toothbrush, lifting the now-empty tray.

“You’re my first?”

Utterly oblivious, he tilted his head in confusion.

Lyliana’s forced smile softened into genuine warmth.

“…Good.”

“Not sure what you mean…”

“It’s nothing.”

As Cain turned to leave, tray in hand, Lyliana grabbed his wrist—stopping him.

“…Just one question.”

Hesitating—she nearly asked if he served as a sexual slave.

But courage failed her, so she pivoted:

“About leaving Grace’s forces… Is that still what you want?”

Cain laughed.

A simple life in the countryside, farming freely, was far better than this.

He’d gladly walk barefoot back to his parents’ hometown even now.

No hesitation colored his reply.

“Of course.”

Lyliana smiled.

Her resolve solidified—she vowed to save him.

From this wretched place.