Ren looked around the dining table, his gaze unintentionally stopping at a small wooden object placed beside the bowl.
"Chopsticks…?"He paused for a moment. Two slender wooden sticks, simple and unremarkable, yet to Ren, they felt like a faint trace from a world he had almost forgotten how to belong to.
He smiled slightly, lifting them gently. The familiar rough touch of the wood against his fingertips made his heart tighten for a brief second.
When he heard the soft crack as he split them apart, the dry sound echoed in the quiet room, calling forth memories of rare dinners long ago, when the kitchen light cast shadows across the ceiling and steam from boiling broth warmed the air.
Ren lightly stirred the bowl of noodles before him.
The pale golden strands twirled together in the misty steam, drifting softly like ribbons of thin mist.
The aroma of bone broth spread outward, rich but not overwhelming, blending with a faint fragrance of sesame oil. A shame, he thought, that it lacked the scent of scallions and the slight sharpness of black pepper.
He lifted a bite of noodles to his mouth. Handmade from flour and eggs, soft yet springy enough, they slid across his tongue together with the light sweetness of the broth and the natural saltiness of sea salt.
Not perfect.. Ren knew that, but perhaps it was this very imperfection that made the dish feel strangely real.
He paused for a moment, watching the rising steam drift upward and fade into the air.
For that instant, Ren could almost believe he was sitting in a tiny eatery in the real world, listening to rain tapping gently against the window, the warmth of the soup curling beneath his collar.
A fragile feeling, yet so real that he had to breathe slowly, afraid that if he exhaled too strongly, it would disappear.
Ren scooped a spoonful of broth with the wooden ladle and took a small sip.
The clear liquid spread across his tongue, light yet full, its gentle sweetness from bones and vegetables warming him from the inside.
Even without the mild heat of chili or pepper, the kind of "soul" real-world broth carried, it was enough to soothe the fatigue that lingered in his body.
In the bowl, several thin slices of meat were neatly arranged, perhaps salted pork or wild game, the fat trimmed just right, seared lightly for a pale golden edge.
Half a boiled egg sat carefully on top, the yolk still soft, as if it carried the lingering warmth of the chef's hands.
He ate slowly.
Each strand, each sip.
No rush. No purpose.
Maybe... for the first time in months, Ren was truly tasting something.
Not battle.
Not survival.
But simply… living.
When he set the chopsticks down, a faint sweetness lingered in his chest, mixed with a subtle bitterness of memory.
Ren leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the thin trail of steam hover over the bowl, then fade away like a fleeting dream.
"How was it? Did it taste real?"
Yuzu's voice came from behind the counter, soft and a little shy. He wiped his hands on his apron, leaning against the kitchen doorway, still wearing that innocent smile of his.
Ren looked up at him, silent for a long moment as if searching for the right words. He took a light breath, the broth's aroma still lingering in his throat.
"Not completely," Ren replied, his tone quiet but certain. "But it feels like… very close. Like remembering something you thought you had forgotten."
Yuzu chuckled, scratching his head."I thought so too. The ingredients here are so different, and we're missing most of the seasoning. But… if someone eats it and thinks it's 'close enough,' then maybe we're on the right path."
Ren didn't answer immediately, he only smiled faintly. His gaze fell to the nearly finished bowl, the last noodles still floating in the clear broth that reflected the warm golden lights.
"Maybe… this is the first meal in this world that made me feel full without actually being full."
Yuzu froze for a second, then burst into laughter.
"Ha! That's a good line... I should write that in our review book!"
His laughter spread throughout the tiny room, mixing with the quiet crackling from the kitchen fire and the lingering aroma of simmered broth.
Ren said nothing, just gave a faint nod, feeling an unusual lightness inside him, as if in a world full of blades and wounds, he had just found a place that still kept a bit of human warmth intact.
"Oh right. We'd like to give you something."
Right at that moment, Yuzu came out from the kitchen carrying a small plate. A sweet scent drifted into the air, completely different from the rich aroma of the ramen earlier. He carefully placed the dish on the table in front of Ren.
It was a small cake, a smooth layer of white cream topped with a few slices of ripe fruit, simple, yet strangely elegant. A light dusting of powdered sugar covered the surface like morning dew on flower petals.
"This is the next experimental dish."
Yuzu said, his voice tinged with pride as he tilted his head toward the counter. "Made by Meiri herself. She's the pastry master of our shop. I hope you'll like it."
Ren glanced toward the girl behind the counter. Meiri smiled and gave a small nod in greeting. Under the warm glow of the oil lamp, her gentle features seemed even softer, making the atmosphere of the shop feel slower, calmer.
Ren picked up the spoon and carefully cut a small piece of the cake.
The cream melted almost instantly on his tongue, a balanced sweetness blending with the light tartness of the ripe fruits. Not overly fancy, but surprisingly refined.
He looked up and smiled, "…I didn't think I'd meet such talented people here."
Yuzu stiffened slightly, while Meiri's eyes widened just a touch before she let out a soft laugh, like the chime of a silver bell. "Thank you. Then this dessert was worth the effort."
Ren didn't respond, simply continued eating quietly. The sweetness of the cake, the salt of sweat, the faint trace of kitchen smoke lingering in the air.
"The hard part," Yuzu spoke up again, resting his hand against the table, "is recreating traditional Japanese food, or dishes from other Eastern countries."
Rowa gave a small nod, not lifting his head from the chopping board. "Ingredients don't match. Flavors don't line up. In these lower floors, finding anything like soy sauce or mirin is practically impossible."
"What about Western cuisine?" Meiri asked as she jotted down notes in her notebook.
"With the setting of the first three floors, making standout European dishes isn't too hard," Hina replied, her voice low yet firm.
She wiped her hands with a kitchen towel, eyes still fixed on the gently simmering broth. "Butter, milk, grains, smoked meat, those ingredients can be recreated in this world. You only need the right ratios."
"I think we should try selling something like grilled meat tomorrow," Rowa said slowly, tapping his fingers on the table as if calculating.
"Right. It seems like not many people are paying attention to our food yet," Yuzu added, enthusiasm in his voice overshadowed by a hint of concern. "Sis, I think we should start with familiar dishes. I'm thinking fried chicken and fries."
"That's a good idea, Yuzu. Easy to eat, easy to sell," Meiri agreed with a gentle smile. "We could add hamburgers too. People on the early floors would definitely love those."
Hina sat quietly for a moment, arms crossed, gaze drifting toward the window where the lamplight reflected faintly on the table.
Her brow furrowed slightly. They were right, the shop's reputation still hadn't improved much.
If things continued like this, they wouldn't have enough money to keep the shop going, let alone grow. She let out a quiet breath and finally nodded.
"Alright. We'll try it tomorrow."
"Great!!" Yuzu almost jumped in excitement. "I'll go to the market early and buy lots of meat and potatoes!"
"Wait," Rowa reminded him, leaning on the table. "I remember the potatoes in the east market are short in supply. The seller said the last storm ruined half their stock."
The room suddenly fell silent. Yuzu froze, eyes wide. "Really!? Then… no french fries?"
"We can substitute with another root vegetable," Meiri replied calmly. "But the flavor won't be the same. If we're going for popular food, we should preserve the original taste."
Hina nodded, resting her chin on her hand. "Then I'll ask a few merchants I know. Maybe they still have a stash somewhere. If not… we'll figure something else out."
The shop fell quiet again, but this time, it wasn't a heavy silence. It was the quiet of people determined to push forward with their small dream.
"I think we should split into two directions," Rowa finally spoke up.
"What I mean is...we can't rely on fast food alone. In this world, some rare dishes can give temporary buffs after eating.
Some even increase stats permanently. Why not try both paths?"
Meiri tilted her head, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "You mean we keep the popular menu for customers, while also developing special dishes for players who want stat boosts?"
"Exactly." Rowa nodded. "If we do it well, our reputation will double. I mean, who wouldn't want to get stronger while eating delicious food?"
"That does sound tempting," Yuzu chimed in, eyes shining. "I heard there's grilled dragon meat that boosts attack temporarily. But the ingredients are super rare, the traders here probably don't have any."
"Dragon meat is too ambitious," Meiri chuckled softly. "But mid-tier ingredients, like Moonlight Mushrooms or Crystal Bee Honey…?"
"Except…" she paused, voice dropping slightly, "both have been out of stock since last week. Monsters in the northern forest have been aggressive lately, no one dares hunt there."
"What about the meat from the miniboss Wild Tuskar on floor two? That's more realistic… though not many players sell it."
Hina, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke. "So if we want to go that route… we'll need to obtain the ingredients ourselves."
No one said anything. For a few moments, only the faint crackle of the oil lamp could be heard.
Then Yuzu suddenly stood up, eyes sparkling. "Then I'll go! I can ask someone to escort me. there are a few players from higher floors around lately, right? Maybe someone will help."
"Yuzu, don't be reckless," Hina said, but there was a softness in her tone not usually there. "We'll talk about it… tomorrow morning."