Night fell.
Shibuya Ward.
Inside an izakaya, two men were chatting casually over drinks.
"Have you heard?"
Enjoying the surrounding bustle, the younger of the two men picked up his cup, speaking with an air of deliberate mystery.
"Heard what?"
The speaker was a middle-aged man with a beer belly. He reached out with his chopsticks to grab a marinated edamame, then took a sip of beer. As he drank, his peripheral vision remained fixed on the young man, awaiting his answer.
"Every night, when it gets dark, a yakisoba stall appears on the streets of Shibuya."
The young man set down his cup and turned to the middle-aged man, his voice carrying the distinct, hushed tone of someone telling a ghost story.
"The stall's location is never fixed, and it has never been advertised.
But as soon as it starts selling yakisoba, as the aroma spreads through the air, residents from all around can't help but come out of their homes. Even if they've already had dinner, they can't resist buying a serving of yakisoba. They eat until their stomachs can't possibly hold any more, then they pass out with a look of utter satisfaction on their faces. When they wake up, everything that happened the previous night is forgotten."
Sensing the middle-aged man's gaze, the young man continued his mysterious tale.
"Are you guys talking about an urban legend? Why does that sound so much like Indian snake charming? The charmer plays a flute to control a cobra, making it sway. In your story, the flute's music is just replaced by cooking, and the snake is replaced by people."
Taking a cocktail from the bartender's hand, a woman who had overheard their conversation stopped, pulled up a chair, and casually sat down to join them.
"You're right, it sounds a lot like an Indian spell! Snakes don't even have hearing, yet they can be controlled by the sound of a flute. It's truly incredible. Is this story of yours real or just made up?
If such a terrifying presence really exists in the city, anyone who encounters it would be in for some serious bad luck!"
Another person, who didn't know the full story, joined the conversation, a wary expression on their face.
"Tch."
However, just as the crowd was buzzing about this urban legend, a scoff came from the window seat.
"What are you scoffing at?"
The laugh wasn't loud, but in the tense atmosphere, it was particularly jarring.
In an instant, countless eyes fell upon the woman who had scoffed.
She wore a short, glossy black leather jacket over a lace camisole. Below, a pair of high-waisted leather pants perfectly showcased her long, straight legs, complemented by a pair of knee-high boots. She sat in a relaxed posture, a clear hint of mockery in her eyes.
"Ancient Indian snake charming is no spell. On the surface, they use music to control the snake, but because snakes have no external ears, they are actually reacting to the movement of the flute and the vibrations from the charmer tapping their feet.
In other words, those customers aren't captivated by the cooking itself, but are drawn in by its potent aroma."
Noticing the many gazes upon her, many of which held ill intent, the woman crossed one beautiful leg over the other. She swirled the whiskey in her glass, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and disdain.
Her words caused the once-noisy izakaya to fall silent.
Although the deduction was simple, it was incredibly logical.
The residents were woken up in the middle of the night by the overpowering aroma of a yakisoba stall downstairs, couldn't bear the craving, and so ran down to buy a portion. By the time they came to their senses, the area was already packed with customers.
"If that's really the case, how skilled must the stall owner be?"
Someone muttered to themselves, the delicious image of yakisoba appearing in their mind, making them swallow involuntarily.
"Based on common sense, it's almost impossible for a chef of that caliber to appear at a street stall.
I just can't understand why he would give up a position at a star-rated hotel to instead buy a humble yakisoba cart and attract customers with the scent of his food in some remote place.
The motive behind it is completely illogical. The whole story doesn't add up."
A girl sitting at the bar voiced her doubts, getting to the heart of the matter.
In this world, being a chef was a high-paying profession. Anyone with even a little culinary skill wouldn't choose to run a roadside stall over managing a restaurant.
"Besides, that doesn't explain how people who eat the yakisoba forget what happened the night before!"
Another skeptical voice chimed in.
"Exactly! The yakisoba in the story makes people lose their memory after eating it. Isn't that just like putting a spell on them?"
"Either that or they're putting something hallucinogenic in the yakisoba. Otherwise, it's impossible. It can't be that the food is so delicious it makes you lose your memory, can it? That's a bit too ridiculous."
"But in the end, we don't even know if this urban legend is real. Have any of you actually seen it?"
"No, but this urban legend has been spreading particularly fast in recent months. According to the legend, anyone who smells the yakisoba goes crazy, and those who eat it don't remember what happened. If it weren't for the leftover yakisoba containers, they'd probably think it was all a dream."
"But some who ate less vaguely remember seeing the stall in the depths of their memory."
[A dim yellow lantern]
[Unmarked, old wooden cart body]
[A heavy black iron wok]
[Billowing white steam that could swallow a figure whole]
Everyone began to chime in with what they had heard.
They pooled together the different versions they knew, finally piecing together an image of the mysterious ramen stall.
"Using deliciousness to strip people of their reason... such methods undoubtedly belong to the Dark Culinary World!"
At a table on the left side of the izakaya, a man's face was grim. A steel rod rested by his hand.
Other details could be explained away by the food being exceptionally delicious, but the fact that customers would fall into a contented sleep after eating and wake up with no memory of the previous night was another matter. This was by no means an ordinary occurrence.
"Boss, the check."
"Thank you for your patronage. That'll be 1800 yen."
Reaching into his wallet, Shell pulled out the cash and handed it to the owner-slash-waiter.
Small izakayas like this one usually didn't hire many employees. When it got busy, the owner would serve customers himself just to save a little on labor costs.
And every time night fell...
Office workers, on their way home after a long day, would stop here for a drink, boasting and chatting with friends and strangers alike to relieve the day's stress.
Pushing open the izakaya's door, he could hear the salarymen behind him had already started a new topic.
Urban legends were interesting, but there was only so much to discuss. Once the topic was exhausted, it was natural to move on to something new.
Still, this was the third time he had heard this particular urban legend this week.
A cool breeze made him shiver slightly. Shell tightened his clothes and headed towards the hotel where he was temporarily staying.
He had just crossed a few alleys and was about to cross the street when, in a desolate, abandoned park, he saw a sight that made his scalp tingle.
A bright lantern, a brand-new wooden cart. A young man stood silently in the abandoned park.
The area was surrounded by large open spaces and few apartments. It was the kind of place people would avoid when walking at night, yet someone was setting up shop here...?!
Could this be the real-life version of the urban legend?!
As the thought crossed his mind, Shell tightened his grip on the steel rod, his expression turning serious as he slowly approached.
White flour flew through the air.
With the addition of a spoonful of saltwater, the flour began to move in a circular motion in the young man's hands. The speed increased from slow to fast, gradually becoming a blur, leaving only a faint afterimage.
By the time he registered what was happening, the dough had already been kneaded, all in less than 60 seconds.
The kneaded dough was soft yet resilient, the finest quality imaginable. The young man covered it with a layer of plastic wrap and set it aside to proof.
"What exquisite technique!
Is he using rotational force to knead the dough? It looks similar to the Bailuo family's Bailuo Spinning Chain, but on closer inspection, there are subtle differences..."
Shell stood still, his handsome face filled with confusion.
However, the young man at the stall didn't pause for his confusion. He quickly kneaded ten balls of dough using the same method, then covered them separately with plastic wrap.
"We can start now, right?"
The next moment, a cheerful voice came from a distance. Shell looked over and saw three girls, each carrying two large bags of ingredients.
"Hisako, Erina, I've been waiting. Ikaros, help set up the tables and chairs from the back of the cart, and then put up our sign."
"Yes, Master."
That's right, the person running the stall was none other than Okabe.
Seeing the girls strolling over with the ingredients, he couldn't help but hurry them along.
"I know, I know. By the way, why are the places you pick getting more and more remote?
Business was great in the bustling downtown area. If not there, at least pick a place with more people. What's with this godforsaken spot..."
Hearing Okabe's urging, Erina Nakiri and the others quickened their pace.
Placing the purchased ingredients on the cart's cutting board, Erina Nakiri frowned as she surveyed their surroundings, unable to resist complaining.
When they first started, their stall was in a busy area. Then they moved to a less crowded street, then to someone's residential complex, and now they were in this godforsaken abandoned park.
She had no idea what he was thinking.
"Attracting customers in a place like this is what takes real skill. The city center is no challenge. The core purpose of our stall is to hone our culinary arts."
Placing a pot of pre-made broth on the stove and turning the heat to high to bring it back to a boil, Okabe looked at Erina Nakiri beside him, his voice completely serious.
"That might be true, but you don't have to change locations every single day."
Erina Nakiri couldn't help but retort.
Okabe changed locations far too frequently. The popularity they managed to build one day was gone the next when they moved, forcing them to start from scratch every single time.
"Well, there are the police. Running a stall in the city is actually illegal. The only reason we haven't been caught is because we move every day."
Okabe shrugged, somewhat awkwardly revealing the real reason for his constant relocations.
"So you do know you can't just set up a stall anywhere! I thought you didn't have a clue! That time the police found us, I thought I was going to die of embarrassment while we were running away!"
Hearing Okabe's words, Erina Nakiri complained as she pulled out the tables from behind the cart.
Back then, they were rookies who didn't know anything, and they had dared to set up right in front of the Shibuya Ward police station.
With such a provocation, the police certainly weren't going to ignore them. They immediately dispatched five officers, chasing them from all sides.
Luckily, Okabe had some training. He had Erina Nakiri and Hisako Arato escape through a small path, while simultaneously calming Ikaros's urge to kill them all. Finally, he dragged the cart away through a secluded alley.
After that incident, Okabe specifically went to a shop in the commercial district to buy a map of Shibuya and asked some local mobile vendors about the police patrol routes.
That was what finally gave them some breathing room.
"Let's get to work. There are about three hundred households around here. Let's aim to attract two hundred of them. That should at least justify the cost of today's ingredients."
Looking at the fully set-up area, Okabe clapped his hands, ending the idle chat and shifting into work mode.
Near the abandoned park was an old residential complex with a high population density. Three hundred of those households were within the broadcast range of the yakisoba's aroma.
This was their most direct method of advertising.
[Seafood Yakisoba, 1000 yen per serving. Come one, come all!]
Watching Ikaros place the sign at the park entrance, a slight smile played on Okabe's lips.
He then returned to the cooking station, removed the plastic wrap from the dough, and took out the first ball he had kneaded, sprinkling a layer of flour on the table.
With a pull of his five fingers, the dough stretched into a long strip, which he then folded in half and slapped against the board to make the texture more springy. After repeating this several times, the noodles were formed and subsequently tossed by Okabe into the boiling broth.
Hisako Arato watched the noodles in the broth, mentally counting the seconds. As soon as two minutes had passed, she used a strainer to scoop them out and shake off the excess water.
The drained noodles couldn't go directly into the wok. They were placed on a plate, sent into a steamer, tossed with oil, and steamed for two minutes before being taken out and left on the cutting board to cool naturally.
After repeating this process for three batches, the first batch of noodles was just about cool.
"I saw some fresh shrimp and squid when I was at the supermarket earlier. They were probably caught at sea today. I'll leave the prep work to you."
Opening the plastic bag and pouring out the still-lively shrimp and squid, Erina Nakiri gave her instructions.
"Okay, you can heat up the wok."
Placing the jumping shrimp and writhing squid on the cutting board, Okabe held a small willow-leaf knife in his hand, his expression becoming indifferent.
[Ephemeral Blossom Slash proficiency +1]
The next instant, a flash of silver light passed. The shrimp heads, shells, and veins were removed in a moment, leaving only the snow-white shrimp meat, its body still trembling slightly.
Erina Nakiri looked with envy at the perfectly prepared shrimp on the board. The squid followed suit, both processed in a mere instant.
In the distance, Shell's pupils constricted as he witnessed this scene.
Even though he had never looked away, he hadn't seen how Okabe's knife moved at all. All he knew was that when he came to his senses, the shrimp and squid were already prepped.
Such a miraculous technique, one wouldn't even know where to begin to describe it!
____
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