Chapter 17: A Royal Meal, An Unexpected Chef

Lee Doha, of course, paid no mind to the courtier’s shock. If Siohan had been concerned with his own dignity, it might have been a different story, but he seemed equally unbothered. In fact, much like with that knight—was it Ditrio or Otrio?—Siohan appeared to relish such situations. As if to prove a point, Lee Doha dramatically rested his head on Siohan’s chest and declared,

“If I ate that, I’d genuinely vomit all over your head.”

“G-gasp.”

The courtier choked on their breath. Their face instantly blanched, becoming gaunt. Evidently, for this courtier, even uttering the name of such a vile substance—one half-digested and then expelled—was an unforgivable offense in the Emperor’s presence. To Lee Doha, it all seemed excessively particular.

Of course, actually doing so would turn not just the Emperor, but even a close friend, into an instant mortal enemy. Yet, could he truly do that to Siohan?

“P-pardon me, Your Majesty…”

Receiving Lee Doha’s displeased gaze, the courtier prostrated themselves immediately. Seeing them tremble uncontrollably, Lee Doha clicked his tongue. Generally, he held little interest in others. However, it was inherently uncomfortable when others consistently regarded him with dislike, fear, or any emotion far from positive. It seemed everyone in this vicinity viewed him with similar sentiments.

A curious mix of emotions swirled: they wondered about him, yet found him baffling for not revering the Emperor as they did. They understood he was the Emperor’s contractor, which offered some rationale, but still, a subtle dislike lingered, underscored by an unspoken fear. It was a complex emotional tangle, utterly impossible to sort out.

‘How long would this continue?’

Lee Doha, possessing neither the affability nor the kindness to put others at ease, rose to his feet. Siohan briefly held him, then released him. He was too bothered to move, wishing he could simply remain sprawled there, but knew he couldn’t stay like that indefinitely. A growing awareness told him this was quite an unseemly posture, and above all, he desperately wanted to put something in his empty stomach.

“It would be better if I just went to the kitchen and rustled up something myself.”

“You, personally?”

Siohan’s eyes gleamed. He seemed to be anticipating something. Lee Doha, rubbing his forehead, inquired,

“You must have already eaten lunch, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t.”

Siohan replied promptly. Lee Doha felt a pang of suspicion. He glanced out the window. The sun had long passed its zenith and was considerably lower in the sky. While he didn’t know the exact time, he could tell it was closer to evening than to midday.

“Did he truly not eat lunch?”

Lee Doha asked the prostrated courtier. Unprepared for Lee Doha to address them directly, the courtier flinched in surprise and slowly raised their head. Lee Doha abruptly covered Siohan’s eyes with his hand. Siohan, who had been about to rise, stumbled back onto the bed with a thud. “Gah!” The courtier let out a sound like they were being strangled. Their reactions were always immediate.

“Did he or did he not eat?”

Siohan, encircling Lee Doha’s hand that covered his eyes, let out a low chuckle.

“…He has not, Your Majesty.”

‘Of course. What else?’ ‘With the Emperor smiling like that, what idiot would be so tactless as to say, ‘Yes, he has,’ and still be employed in the palace?’ ‘It was a complete farce, like covering one’s eyes and pretending not to see.’ Lee Doha released Siohan, then removed the rabbit headband he had still been wearing and draped it over his arm. He also shed the cheap *gonryongpo*, its long, flowing sleeves fluttering as it came off.

“Alright. Let’s go then, and share a pleasant meal once more.”

Lee Doha extended his hand. With a bright smile, Siohan took his hand and rose.

Lee Doha, however, reflected that had he known the kitchen was so far, he would have simply asked for a drink and settled for that. It required nearly twenty minutes of walking. While ordinarily not an excessive distance, it was certainly too far to walk when feeling unwell and utterly disinclined to do anything. ‘This time, I really, truly must learn to teleport.’ He resolved.

“I offered to carry you.”

Siohan inquired. As usual, his voice held a hint of amusement. The kitchen, now eerily quiet after the servants had receded like a tide—having fussed endlessly about the Emperor being in such a ‘humble’ place—was desolate. It was vast, like a hotel kitchen occasionally seen in dramas, and surprisingly well-equipped. Lee Doha, having once admired the thin metal sinks and fixtures instead of wooden ones, was now rummaging through the refrigerator.

He couldn’t fathom the principle by which refrigerators operated in this world. They were simply rectangular iron boxes, yet their interiors were so frigid that a thin layer of frost had formed. ‘It’s better than the refrigerator back home,’ he mused. Observing this, Lee Doha, who speculated that perhaps a specialist—a contractor to someone—had lowered the temperature or somehow ‘clothed’ it in winter, then replied:

“You, with your esteemed self, intend to carry whom?”

“Last time, you embraced me, so it’s only fair that I carry you this time.”

“Of course, embracing you would also be acceptable,” Siohan added. “However, I suspect you wouldn’t wish for it.”

“I’d only consider it if it were my dying wish. And being carried by a patient is, of course, out of the question. Now, take these.”

The refrigerator truly contained a bewildering array of items. Meat was most abundant, and there were enough vegetables to drown in. It was enough to feed an elephant for a week. ‘Damn it, do they even eat all of this?’ Lee Doha handed a moderately sized, packaged chunk of meat to Siohan, who stood behind him, then found and passed over five eggs. He also tentatively handed over a bag containing small, crinkly, dried-anchovy-like objects, though he had no idea what they truly were.

“Was there a particular reason you hadn’t bothered to learn it until now?”

“My mother. She forbade it, saying I should walk around for exercise instead of ‘poofing’ here and ‘poofing’ there like a madman. Don’t people eat seafood here?”

Aside from that, however, there was nothing else presumed to be from the sea. Lee Doha’s limited culinary knowledge suggested that seafood was essential for a truly refreshing and stomach-settling meal. Things like clams, kelp, and the like.

“Unless it’s a satellite state, Iristirium has no coastline, so its people aren’t accustomed to seafood. There are still many citizens who believe everything from the sea is a monster. Rumors that octopuses are whale semen still persist… Watch out!”

Lee Doha fumbled, his hand missing its mark, and he stumbled. Siohan quickly pulled Lee Doha back, preventing him from nearly face-planting into the enormous chunk of meat. Predictably, the ingredients he had been holding tumbled to the floor.

“Are you insane?! What utter nonsense is that?!”

‘Surely that can’t be true.’ ‘Chopped octopus, live octopus, stir-fried octopus… they’re all incredibly delicious.’ ‘Surely not in Oz…’ Siohan, seeing Lee Doha’s expression as he turned, let out a soft chuckle.

“Calm down, Hwayiram. It’s just a rumor. Semen can hardly move on its own.”

‘Well, that’s true, but…’ Lee Doha’s face crumpled. Hearing such a casual mention of ‘semen’ from Siohan, who was smiling with a face like an angel sculpted from light, evoked an utterly ineffable feeling within him.

“Please… just don’t say things like that…”

“Oh, you like octopus?”

Siohan said with a gentle smile. He seemed utterly innocent. Lee Doha felt a pang of disappointment. Not about the octopus—though at the moment, that was certainly an issue—but he simply couldn’t bring himself to tell Siohan not to utter such words with that face. Regardless of how one looked, everyone had the right to say 19+ words… ‘Stop.’ Lee Doha shook his head, pulling himself from his thoughts.

“I do. But I don’t think I’ll be able to eat it for a while…”

Lee Doha sank to the floor, squatting weakly. He no longer had the motivation to search for anything else. Siohan knelt beside him, picking up the scattered ingredients Lee Doha had pulled out. Lee Doha, of course, had no way of knowing this was the first time Siohan had ever knelt on the floor.

“But Hwayiram… what exactly can we make with all this?”

“…”

After dumping the ingredients onto the massive countertop, Siohan asked, his face a strange mixture of trust and utter bewilderment. Lee Doha remained silent for a moment. When he had been rummaging through the refrigerator, he thought he could make something with these items, but now, gathered together, they looked like a complete hodgepodge.

“Just wait. I have a plan.”

Lee Doha boldly picked up something. Meat. First, he’d sauté the meat. He drizzled just a bit of oil into a frying pan and tossed in an entire chunk of meat. He reasoned that too much oil on the meat wouldn’t be good. Siohan’s fingertips twitched. He, who had never cooked in his life and had never even been in a kitchen before, had a gut feeling that this was not the right way to do things. However, Lee Doha, seemingly oblivious to his hangover, was already in full swing.

“Isn’t this seaweed?”

Rummaging through drawers for spices to season the dish, Lee Doha suddenly pulled something out. It was square, large, black, and crispy. He wasn’t sure if it was seaweed, but it certainly looked like some kind of marine plant. Siohan gave an ambiguous nod.

“Then we can make seaweed soup.”

“…Hmm.”

This time, Siohan couldn’t agree with such cheerful enthusiasm. He watched Lee Doha, trying to conceal his apprehension. Lee Doha chopped the square, large, black, crispy object into pieces with a knife, then tossed them into a pot of water. He added a pinch of salt, sniffed a dark brown spice, and added a spoonful of that too. Declaring that anchovies were essential for broth, he added something resembling dried anchovies, and soon the water began to boil.

Lee Doha then plopped the meat into the pot. There was no hesitation in his movements. Anyone observing his confident hands would have believed him to be a chef with thirty years of experience. The chunk of meat, which had only been superficially seared, was still raw inside, but he seemed to believe it would all cook through in the hot water.

Siohan knew something was terribly wrong, but resigned himself and watched patiently. He decided to be content with this new discovery: his contractor had absolutely no talent for cooking.