Transition!

　Curran! Curran! Karan!

　From the next room, there is a sound of a wooden plate that must have fallen to the ground.

　Either the plate I shifted into the air, or it hit something. Probably the former in terms of sense.

'Ah, that's not so easy.'

　It's been two months since the day I first transitioned things.
　I've tried transference under various conditions, and I'm beginning to understand the effects.

　First of all, the biggest question of transference, when there is another object in the place to be transferred.

　For example, if I wanted to transfer to my room, I would transfer as I always do, imagining that place. However, if someone or an object is placed in the place I was going to transfer to, I can transfer, but it will automatically transfer to a place where it won't hit me.

　In other words, even if you make a mistake during transference, you won't get stuck in the wall.

　Thanks to that, I was able to do my own transition with peace of mind.

　And secondly, you can't make a transition without me touching it.

　It was a hassle to pick up the object I had transitioned a few meters away, and I wondered if I could do a transition that would draw it to me or something, but I couldn't.


　Also, I can't transfer only half of the object I'm transferring.

　That means you can't transfer only half of this plate.

　So does that mean that transfer magic doesn't destroy or overwrite objects? If that's the case, though, it's good to be safe.

　The rest, as expected, is that humans consume more magic power, or that they consume more the further away they are.

　I'd like to try it out, but I wonder if other people can also transfer without permission...


　Gotcha!

Wow!

Hey, Al! It's hot out, let's get that thing out, ice!

'Hey, Elinora sister, at least knock. You scared me.

It's fine.

Not next time.

　Sister Elinora lets out a distracted voice with a huff. You're definitely not going to knock again next time, are you? I'm going to set up a trap.

So put out the ice.

　Yeah, I'm working on it.
　Next time you go in, pawn over your head with transference magic. I like the idea of transferring the shelf to the door.

"Ow! Why are you hitting me?!

You looked like you were thinking about something stupid.

What's that? Unreasonable! I'm your sweet little three-year-old brother, okay?

　I can't believe I don't even have the freedom of imagination in front of Sister Elinora.

Where do you get this hard word "unreasonable"?

The book.

　If I say this, I can usually manage.

'Oh well, just get me out of here.'

　My sister is very rough with her brother. Just to get it out, sister Elinora holds out a plate.

'Yes, yes, ice cubes.'

　By the way, ice magic is classified as a higher level of water magic. Cold air instead of air conditioner in summer is a must. I practiced it frantically.

''No, it's not!

'What? Not this one? Ice?

The fluffy, crunchy stuff Al was eating the other day!

'Hmm? You mean the shaved ice?

'Yes! It!

　No, I don't know your name. Why are you agreeing with me?

I'm just saying.

　It can't be helped, my cute little brother will do his best for sister Elinora.

　I dodge the plate with the ice cubes over the edge and take two of the plates I've been using to practice the transition.

　I'll give the other one to my brother Silvio.

　I use ice magic and pile more and more shaved ice on the plate in a smooth manner.

It's very detailed. You're very handy.

　Sister Elinora stares at the smooth, fine ice piling up.

'Well,'

　I get a little embarrassed when I receive such an innocent compliment. Normally I'm a crass person.

　By the way, you don't need to chant for this level of magic. I'm not going to chant much because I can do it in the first place, but if you do a good job of manipulating the magic power, this is easy to do.


　The sight of silvery white grains rising smoothly to fill a plate is somewhat reminiscent of Japan's staple food, rice.

　I'm getting tired of living a life where things like bread, soup and pasta are the staples.

　I'm definitely a rice person, okay? Bread doesn't give you strength.


'Yes, shaved ice. Spoon?

No!

　Sister Elinora, who lets loose with an open mind.

　Was she going to make me go get it? Well, I've got the spoon ready for practice, so it's in place. Of course it's safe because it's wooden.

''Yes, there's a spoon too.''

Al, I'm ready.

　I stand up with another shaved ice while Elinora's sister is rejoicing.

''Well, I'll give it to Brother Silvio, too,''

It's crispy and cold.

　I'm not listening to you anymore.

'Sister Elinora, there are better ways to eat shaved ice, right?

What is it? Tell me!

　Sister Elinora, who had been tripping lightly, returned to reality and pressed on me like a rabid animal.

　I bit into it just as I thought I would.

'Shaved ice, you know, tastes better when you eat it all at once, not a little at a time, right?

'What? It's a waste.

'They say it tastes better that way. You should try it like you've been tricked.

'Hmmm, okay! When it's gone, I'll be back for more!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, as much as you want.

　When I looked at Sister Elinora sideways as I left the room, she was eating a bowl of shaved ice as if she was shoveling a bowl.

　A little while later, Elinora's strange voice echoed in the corridor.





　ーー.


　Today I'm going to add to our food repertoire.

　Shaved ice reminds me of rice, and I'm finally missing Japanese food.

　Rice! And since I can't do that, I cook with wheat, which is my current staple food.

　I walk to the kitchen at the far left of the first floor of the mansion.

　In the nearby maid's lounge room, various information about the mansion is flying around on a daily basis.

''Ah, it's hot. Put out the ice!''

It's summer, okay? You'd have to have a special magic tool from King's Landing to do that.

It's summer and I want it!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, go have some water.

I need a nice cold ale. I don't mind if it's water.

It's not that big of a deal. The water is still cold here.

''I hope it doesn't snow! Oh, by the way, Alfried-sama's room was cooler the other day for some reason!

Master Alfried's room?

'Yes, sir! Like this, when I walked into the room, the air was chilly like winter!

Are you sure? Isn't the heat making Meena a bit of a wreck?

Uh, it's true. It's not a joke. It's not a dream.

'But then again, Master Alfried doesn't seem to be very three years old, does he?

I understand! Too genius, right? I've been taught some simple math. I don't have the dignity of an older man.

'There's no doubt that she's a genius, but her behavior is so oblique. I mean, there's nothing dignified about Meena to begin with.

I agree with the former, but I'd like to disagree with the latter.


　The maid is having a distracted conversation.
　The topic of conversation today was apparently me.

　It would be fun to listen to it all the way through, but I have a purpose today, so I pass it by.


'Oh!' Kid! It's another day!

　The one who sounded like a caring old man was Bartolo, the cook of this house.

　The Surolet family has few connections because they are an upstart nobleman, so they tend to lack human resources.

　Furthermore, as a commoner, Father Nord had few relatives.

　Most of the maids and servants currently working in the house were obtained from Mother Erna, a merchant's daughter.

　Among them, Bartolo is one of the few close friends that Nord's father met when he was an adventurer. It seems that in the future he's going to have his own restaurant.

　I've heard that his parents liked him for his unique sense of taste, which is different from the cooks in the capital.

　I also prefer to eat food that is simple and makes use of the ingredients rather than something that is too expensive.

Oh, Bartolo. Can I use your kitchen today?

'Oh? I thought you were going to get another snack today?

　Bartolo frowned sternly and gave him a dubious look. If you make a face like that in front of a child, you'll cry? If you're not good at it, you might be scarier than those gangsters out there.

'I've got something I'd like to make.

Can't a little boy cook?

You can do it.

　I lived alone in Japan for a long time. I can do that to a certain extent.

Really~?

　Bartolo crosses his arms and gives me a scowling look.

　I meet his gaze without turning it back.
　For a chef, the kitchen is a place of work and a sanctuary. I can't let him touch my tools as a child's plaything.

　Bartolo is testing me.

'Well, you seem to be serious about it. I can't let you get hurt, so I'll be there all the time.

Thank you.

So, what are you trying to make and why?

　He hides his embarrassment by being blunt.

　He's cute in spite of his face and figure.

'I'm going to make spaghetti. Do you know what I'm going to do?

'Spaghetti? What is that?

'It's a long, thin thing you can do with eggs, flour, a little oil and salt.

If it's wheat, that's a staple, isn't it?

'Yes. If I could, I think it would expand my cooking repertoire tremendously.

That's awesome! I don't know if you can do it, but do it! I'll bring you the ingredients.

　I tell him all the ingredients and tools I can think of, and Bartolo sets up one by one.

　I'm not tall enough to reach the cooking table, so I get a chair.

　I put the eggs and flour (strong flour) into a wooden bowl-like object and mix it with a spatula.

　By the way, the wheat ground from hard wheat is strong flour. Strong flour is strong and suitable for making pasta and ramen noodles.

　Light wheat flour is soft wheat flour and is good for making tempura and cakes, but we don't seem to have this kind of flour.

Ho, it's getting harder and harder.

　Bartolo looks at him as he freezes with interest. Is he wondering if he can apply it to something? His eyes are serious.

　He kneads it on the board, adding a little water, until the surface is smooth.

'I hope there's something to wrap it in.

Wrapping things up. Why don't you wrap them in muna leaves?

Leaves. Doesn't it smell like that or something?

'Ah, muona leaves don't transfer odours and flavours to the food when wrapped. Everyone uses them.

So long.

　I receive a muona leaf from Bartolo. It's unexpectedly thin and large. It's a little hard to wrap, but it looks like it'll be enough to rest on.

　Whoever made the saran wrap is a genius.

"We're going to leave it wrapped up?

When you let it rest for fifteen minutes like this, it gets moist and stretches out easier.

Oh, yeah? You know your stuff. The way you handle your tools, it's as if you've made them many times before.

'Haha. Ah, yes, Bartolo! While I'm at it, I'm going to make some sauce to toss on those long, thin noodles! Make me some sauce!

　I ask Bartolo to hurry up, as he plunges into the painful part, and I ask him to hurry up.

'Oh, the sauce. What kind of sauce do you want?

'I can go with almost anything, but I'm still thinking tomato sauce.

Tomatoes! There's something fresh in our village! I'll make it in a minute.

　I really prefer cod roe or cream or something like that, but this time I'll just use tomatoes that I can make quickly. The tomatoes in the village of Coriat are delicious.

　Some of the ingredients in this world are the same as in Japan, some of them are not, some of them are similar, but some of them are completely unknown to us.

　It's too bad we don't have any rice around here. I'm sure there must be rice somewhere on the continent.


　After about fifteen minutes, I pushed and stretched the lump of flour with the back of my hands and cut it into squares.

I have to make a rolling pin. I can't cut it cleanly.

　It looks like I'm done making the sauce, and Bartolo is watching me cut intently.

　His face is scary. I almost freaked out and almost cut my finger.

　The noodles are very uneven, but I don't care.

　All that's left is to boil them with the right amount of salt.

　Pretty soon the noodles will float up to the surface in a fluffy way, so you scoop them up, put them on a plate, pour the sauce on top, and you're done!

It's really done. It could look a lot nicer with a little work, but the problem is the taste.

　I appreciate it curtly, but I can't wait to try it, and it shows on my face.

　He's already got his own chair and fork and everything.

Let's eat then! I'll take it!

　I stir it up a bit and roll up the noodles with a fork, and Bartolo sees this and rolls up the noodles with his dexterity.

　Well, how does it taste?

　Yes, yes, I think it's good enough. The tomato sauce Bartolo made goes especially well with the noodles.

　It's a sauce that makes use of the acidity of the tomatoes to great effect.

　Could the noodles be a bit firmer? Did I boil it wrong? I don't know. Let Bartolo take care of the ingenuity from here on out, and it will get better.

　I look at Bartolo with that in mind.

"...it's good! What's this?!

　Spaghetti is being sucked into Bartolo's mouth one after another with great vigor.

　With Bartolo's physique, it looks like he could easily eat five servings.


It was delicious.

　He slowly placed his fork on the empty plate and let the words out as he chewed.

'Oh,'

　I nodded, albeit briefly, at that heartfelt comment.

'Boy. No, Master Alfried, give me four days, no, three days. I'll make spaghetti better than this!

''Alfried-sama or something creepy like that, you can keep your boy like you always have. I'll be coming to the kitchen occasionally in the future.

Okay! Come on, anytime!

　Bartolo smiles and smiles.
　You can count on it.



　Three days later, Bartolo gives me my first taste of his new creation.

　Needless to say, my spaghetti tasted like udon or yakisoba crackers.

　That day, spaghetti made an appearance at the family dinner, causing a stir at home and leading to a spaghetti craze.

　The ladies in particular seemed to love it, and they've been eating it every day for a week now.


　...I'm tired of it!