Chapter 115 - The Final Meal of the Day: Salt Soup Pasta
“Volf, you didn’t eat much today, did you?”
“I was training before I left. I had some red bear meat and drank a bit.”
In the carriage, Dahlia’s question was met with a vague answer from Volf.
During today’s dinner party, they had debated whether white wine, black ale, or dry Eastern liquor paired best with red bear meat, all while eating and drinking.
However, Volf, who usually polished off two or three servings of meat and bread without breaking a sweat, hadn’t ordered any extras.
“Was today’s training particularly tough?”
“Not really. I just happened to take a shield to the solar plexus. I’m fine now, though.”
“Um, was it... harassment again?”
“No, I just got blown away by Randolph’s shield during training.”
Did the Monster Subjugation Force also engage in combat training against people?
Dahlia’s confusion must have shown on her face, as Volf continued to explain.
“Randolph was playing the role of a monster, charging at us, and we had to dodge at the last moment. Randolph’s big and moves well—his shield thrust mimics the upward swipe of a big wild boar’s tusks perfectly. I tried to counterattack but got hit by the shield in the solar plexus and sent flying.”
“That sounds really painful...”
“I couldn’t breathe for a while. But thanks to the sköll bracelet, I managed to dissipate the impact and retreat to safety quickly.”
“Um, what happens if you can’t dodge Randolph-sama?”
“Usually, you just get sent flying lightly. If someone’s nearby, they’ll catch you before you hit the ground, and the priests are always on standby. No one got seriously hurt today.”
Dahlia thought about Randolph’s impressive physique and nodded in understanding.
She didn’t know how big a big wild boar was, but dodging Randolph’s full-force charge at the last second sounded difficult.
Still, having to counterattack against such an opponent seemed equally grueling for the Scarlet Armor.
“Um, I’m planning to make a light meal when I get back to the tower. Would you like some, Volf?”
“Honestly, that’d be great. I feel like I’m always the one being treated by you.”
“Not at all. I’m borrowing your carriage, and considering the bicorn materials as payment, I’m the one ‘getting the better deal.’”
“‘Getting the better deal’... that’s not a phrase that suits you, Dahlia.”
“...‘Go ahead and pay me with everything you’ve got’ doesn’t suit me either.”
That was a joke Volf had made the first time he sent her back to the tower.
He might have forgotten about it by now, but...
“...and you scolded me, saying, ‘I won’t say such nonsense!’”
It seemed he remembered after all.
Volf pressed his finger against his chin and tilted his head slightly, lost in thought. His pensive expression made Dahlia a little curious.
“Dahlia, I’ve been thinking. The Green Tower Dining Hall is worth giving everything I’ve got. So, I think it’s more accurate for me to say, ‘Please let me give everything I have.’”
“How did you come to that conclusion...?”
Volf’s absurd joke was just as nonsensical as it had been that day.
・・・・・・・
Back at the tower, Dahlia went up to the second floor, took off her jacket, and started preparing the meal.
She gave Volf some sparkling water and salt butter cookies and asked him to sit down.
There was a chance he had internal injuries from the hit to his solar plexus.
Though he kept insisting he was fine, she wanted him to rest.
In the kitchen, Dahlia took out the thinnest dried pasta from the pantry.
Adding baking soda to the water when boiling dried pasta made it resemble the ramen noodles in her previous life. The texture and taste were slightly different, but it was a good substitute in this world.
While preparing the water, she began heating up some chicken broth she had stored in the fridge, adding a bit of salt.
Once the noodles were cooked, she placed them in a deep bowl and poured the hot broth over them. She topped it with shredded steamed chicken from the fridge, a boiled egg, and a generous amount of green onions.
It was a bit of a stretch, but her makeshift salty-broth ramen—”salty soup pasta”—was ready.
Volf probably preferred salty dishes over sweet ones for winding down after drinking.
In her past life, her colleagues were divided—some preferred ramen as a late-night drink finisher, while her senior female coworkers were parfait enthusiasts. She had accompanied both at different times, and each had its own delicious appeal.
However, both options inevitably showed up on the scale the next day. Learning from that experience, she decided to make only a half portion for herself this time.
“It’s salty soup pasta. Add white pepper if you like.”
Returning to the living room, she set the deep bowl, chopsticks, a fork, and a large spoon on the table.
Volf was already fidgeting in front of the bowl, making it hard for Dahlia to pretend she didn’t notice.
“...Use whatever’s easiest for you.”
“Thanks, I’ll dig in.”
Volf picked up his chopsticks, mirroring Dahlia.
The steaming salt soup pasta had the rich aroma of chicken broth.
The pasta, boiled slightly longer than usual and with baking soda, had a texture close to ramen noodles. It slid smoothly down the throat without much chewing.
The chicken broth was light but slightly salty, pairing well with the noodles. The shredded steamed chicken and boiled egg on top also complemented the dish perfectly.
The steamed chicken and boiled egg were originally part of Dahlia’s diet stash, but they worked well here. She thought about making chicken cha siu sometime soon.
The nostalgic feeling was likely due to memories from her previous life and meals with her father, Carlo.
After finishing the noodles, she scooped up the soft egg yolk with a spoon, mixed it with the broth, and took a bite.
As she savored the melting yolk mixed with the broth, she glanced at Volf, who was barely chewing.
Was the flavor not to his liking, or was he just not chewing much because of the noodles? She couldn’t help but worry as he silently slurped away.
“...It was delicious.”
After finishing the noodles, toppings, and even the broth, Volf finally spoke.
His golden eyes were relaxed with satisfaction, his lips slightly upturned, and the sweat on his forehead still hadn’t dried.
It seemed the salty soup pasta had won him over.
“Why does this soup pasta not feel like soup pasta?”
“Please don’t get philosophical all of a sudden. I just added a bit of baking soda when boiling store-bought dried pasta.”
“Is this really just regular noodles? Not some special imported product?”
“It’s just regular pasta from a bulk bag, costing seven copper coins.”
“I can’t accept this... Why does everything here turn into something delicious?”
At this point, it was nothing more than an unreasonable accusation.
The cooking method was slightly different, so it was probably just the novelty that made it stand out.
Seeing Volf’s thoughtful expression, Dahlia decided to make a suggestion.
“Should I make a bit more? I still have some broth left.”
“Thanks. If it’s okay, could you teach me how to cook this pasta?”
“Sure, but are you planning to boil pasta in the barracks?”
“Could we do it during expeditions?”
“That might be tough. It requires a lot of water.”
“We have water magic stones and mages, so it should be possible.”
Volf’s eyes were serious, but salt ramen knockoffs didn’t seem practical for expeditions. The broth and noodles being separate would be too much hassle.
Given the technological level of this world, instant ramen also seemed unlikely.
“It might be better to think of a quicker expedition meal menu... Should I include some recipes with the expedition stove? Not so much recipes, but things like barbecue sauce, dried fish, or cheese fondue—dishes like the ones I’ve made here.”
“That’s really generous, but... I kind of don’t want to share them.”
“Are you worried about taking over the cook’s job?”
She hadn’t thought of that, but if there was a designated cook for expeditions, it would be their responsibility.
Instead of attaching recipes to the expedition stove, it might be better to discuss it with Volf and let him use them as references—just as she was thinking this, he shook his head.
“No, expedition soup is just boiling water, so there’s no designated cook. It’s more like... my own opinion. I feel like the specialness of the Green Tower’s exclusive menu would fade...”
“That’s not true. It’s exclusive because it’s made and eaten at the tower, right?”
“Right... because it’s made and eaten here, it’s exclusive to the Green Tower...”
Volf’s muttering was followed by an awkward pause.
After that, in unusually high spirits, he helped her make a second bowl of salty soup pasta while she taught him the recipe.
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