Silvaerin, a city that boasted prosperity despite the frigid climate of the north.
But Silvaerin had not enjoyed such abundance from the beginning.
In the past, the entire continent had seethed with war due to the Demon Lord.
The south, west, and east had all been reduced to wasteland, but the region most devastated had been Silvaerin in the north.
The mana of the north was pure, and thus vulnerable to corruption; the demonic energy scattered by the Demon Lord had devoured that mana.
The magical beasts of the north were already fearsome, and with corrupted demonic energy added to them, their destructive power was beyond imagination.
The northern forces had been helplessly decimated, to the point where opinions were raised that Silvaerin must be abandoned.
The patriarch of that time, Serandir Silvaerin, discovered an anomaly.
Within the army of monsters surging forth like waves.
There existed a leader that strengthened the demonic energy of those monsters.
However, half the forces had already lost their lives.
Thus, they were in a state where mounting a counterattack was out of the question, and even defending the walls was difficult.
Serandir, watching the situation, informed only his closest confidant and set out alone to subjugate that leader.
It was a final gambit thrown because, at this rate, they would have to abandon Silvaerin, which their ancestors had protected.
But Serandir had the power.
The power to succeed in a plan that some would call reckless, a gamble.
"Everything is for my homeland and Silvaerin."
Serandir pierced through the indomitable horde of monsters and severed the leader's head.
Accordingly, the ferocious monsters rapidly lost their strength.
The forces, who had been frantic with defense, were able to defeat the weakened enemy and restore the front line.
And when they combined their strength to push back the entire monster army, what they found was,
the corpse of Serandir, who had died a glorious death on the desolate snowy plains.
Cailan looked at the banquet noodles and thought, shedding hot tears.
A war so fierce the white snowy fields looked like rivers of blood.
It was because of the ancestors and honorable ones who had given their lives to protect that land that he could stand in this place.
Silvaerin, which had rebuilt civilization upon land protected by blood.
This land had now become a city where the beauty of winter and diverse cultures harmonized.
Above all, thanks to this peaceful world, his daughter Isilla, more beautiful than the stars in the night sky, was living without worry.
'So Silvaerin is contained within these banquet noodles.'
Realizing the meaning of the food, Cailan steeled his heart and picked up his fork.
Carefully mixing the garnishes and noodles, Cailan loaded his fork with a heap of banquet noodles.
The trapped heat within the strands of noodles changed into white steam and scattered.
That alone was enough to guess how piping hot these noodles were.
Cailan blew—hoo, hoo—and placed the banquet noodles in his mouth.
The noodles were still hot, but not enough to scald his tongue.
A pleasant heat that melted the cold washed over his tongue, and only then did it feel as though his dormant sense of taste was opening up.
The deep savory flavor unique to anchovy broth, along with pepper, onion, and green onion. And the paradoxical coolness created by the hot temperature.
It was clearly a steaming hot dish, so why did it feel cool?
And it wasn't just any coolness.
It was like the medicinal herbal tea his mother had personally brewed for him when he was young and had overeaten bread without knowing better.
A coolness that instantly banished indigestion, like the waterfall of Lake Callian.
Without realizing it, Cailan lifted the bowl with both hands and gulped down the broth.
An act that would surely rank in the top three things a noble must never do during a meal.
"Kuuuh!"
Swallowing the broth filling his mouth and setting the bowl down on the table, he came back to his senses.
Cailan suddenly realized he had made a disgraceful display and looked around.
"Kyaaah!"
"Kuaaak!"
"Pwah!"
Not a single one of the knights was exempt; they were all drinking the broth straight from the bowls, letting out exclamations of admiration.
Even the taciturn Arthur was drinking the broth, letting out a "Kuuuh!"
Relieved that the others were acting the same way as him, Cailan resumed his meal with a comfortable mind.
Slurp—
Chew, chew—
He pushed a mouthful of banquet noodles in and chewed vigorously, barely moving his puffed-up jaw.
Savory and clean anchovy broth mingled with garnishes like kimchi, carrot, and young pumpkin, exquisitely filling the flavor and texture of the dish.
The somyeon noodles themselves were chewy and springy thanks to perfect cooking, but it would have been lacking without the crunchy texture of the garnishes.
A dish that satisfied all five senses.
Cailan did not usually enjoy fine dining.
It was not because he was reluctant to spend money or lacked the leisure for it.
He simply had not felt the need to go out of his way for food.
Cailan was human too, so he liked tasty food, but he had no passion to seek it out for a meal.
That way of thinking was now shattered.
'If it's food like this... it's well worth coming here to eat.'
At the same time, he realized why Gang Jinwoo was running a restaurant in a forest like this.
'Are those who eat meals cooped up in the castle like cattle being fed truly walking the path of gastronomy?'
Gang Jinwoo had been declaring it.
Nobles who hired famous chefs to their mansions and passively ate only the food prepared for them.
Were such people fit to usurp the title of gourmand?
Food is for people and is made among people.
Therefore, shouldn't gastronomy, which explores food, naturally be sought out in the wide world?
To carry out that philosophy, Gang Jinwoo had opened a restaurant in the Callian Forest.
When his thoughts reached that point, even the slightest doubt lingering in a corner of Cailan's heart disappeared.
Cailan finished eating, picked up his empty bowl, and went into the restaurant.
And he spoke to Gang Jinwoo, who was cleaning up in the kitchen.
"I believe you. You are indeed a Master."
"Excuse me?"
"Might I have another bowl?"
"Of course. Please hand me the bowl."
"Thank you."
The Empire's coldest wall, Cailan Silvaerin, acknowledged Gang Jinwoo as a Master.
***
'That guy is a bit peculiar...'
I served all the noodles and watched while tidying up the kitchen, and that man was shedding tears.
Was it that delicious? Seeing him express it so intensely made me want to do something more for him.
Then he came for a refill just in time, so I gladly gave it to him, and he acknowledged me as a Master or something.
Well... inside my shop, I am the Master, so I didn't exactly deny it.
I just served him a generous bowl of noodles, and he ate it with obvious delight.
"Kuaah! This is really delicious."
"It was a bit cold today, but my whole body is melting."
The other knights besides him also seemed satisfied with the banquet noodles, eating while letting out exclamations that welled up from their souls.
'Kuaaa, pwah!'
There was a story that if you boil ox bone soup for Westerners, they sweat buckets and polish off the entire pot. I guess it's true.
Different races, different cultures, but the emotion hot broth gave was all the same.
'Come to think of it, the reaction is a bit subdued this time?'
Last time, Isilla had eyes that went lax as if she had taken medicine after eating the baeksuk.
The cold, rational, silver-haired middle-aged man had cried his eyes out after eating banquet noodles, which wasn't a normal reaction... but the others were fine.
Well, compared to baeksuk, banquet noodles are a light dish, so maybe the effects are weaker? Just as I was thinking that.
"Damn it... what the hell is this food! My body is heating up!"
"Me too... it's so hot I can't stand it!"
"Jehahaha!!!"
The knights, who had been eating noodles while twitching their bodies, threw off their tops alongside strange declarations.
"My body is itching. Todd, sparring!"
"As you wish!"
The two men, their bodies glistening with sweat from drinking hot broth, took unarmed sparring stances and began facing off.
I thought I was watching a healing mukbang, but suddenly they were pulling off a UFC fight.
The other knights also watched the sparring knights with somewhat blazing eyes.
Even the unnamed man who appeared to be the commander and Arthur fixed their gazes with expressions of great interest.
"Here I come!"
"Aye!"
Do you know what medieval knights' 'martial combat' is?
To them, martial combat was the last resort used in situations where they could not fight with swords.
Therefore, striking systems like boxing or Muay Thai did not develop; instead, grappling systems like judo, jiu-jitsu, and wrestling developed.
On a battlefield where every second counted, flipping or subduing opponents was more efficient than throwing jabs.
The reason I'm suddenly saying this is,
"Ah, fuck, my eyes!!!"
because I had witnessed the sight of two muscular men glistening with sweat grinding against each other under the guise of wrestling.
I had been hit by a tactical nuke from an unexpected place, yet I couldn't even vent my frustration.
Medieval fantasy knights were like human weapons; if they so much as lifted a hand, an ordinary chef like me wouldn't stand a chance...
"Oh, Todd! You're overflowing with strength today! So am I!"
"Kuh, Commander Luke's grip strength is also different from usual!"
Their otherworldly conversation made my mind go hazy.
Meanwhile, the knights watching the fight each tossed in a word.
"Todd is definitely holding up well today."
"Luke is taking it pretty strongly too. Did the two of them train separately or something?"
The sense of wrongness they felt at the growth of a comrade they saw every day was probably because my skill was applied.
The effect of the banquet noodles wasn't making two healthy adult men grind against each other... it's not.
It probably seems to be something like a rise in body heat, subsequent promotion of metabolism, and increased strength.
When you cook, you gain a small amount of knowledge about ingredient properties, human reactions to consuming them, nutrition, and so on.
Perhaps because it was a dish to which my knowledge and special skills were applied, I could roughly estimate the effects just by looking.
This effect probably applied to everyone who ate the banquet noodles, but why were only those two going crazy?
"Kuaaak! Tap!! I tap!!"
"You chose this match. Survive by grit and stubbornness!!"
There's probably no big reason; it just seems those two lack patience.
After some twists and turns, the knights' meal ended, and the man and Arthur approached.
"It was truly delicious food, though it was my first time eating it."
"I'm glad it suited your palate. Please visit again."
Arthur seemed calm and normal compared to the other knights, which made me like him.
I exchanged light greetings with Arthur.
"I too ate deliciously. To think a man like you is in my Silvaerin, I'm quite proud."
"Ah, yes... thank you."
"You said Master. But if I just call you Master, it's hard to distinguish; do you have an additional title?"
"Hmm... then please call me 'Master Jin.' Now that I hear it, adding something seems better."
Upon hearing my title, the man smiled in satisfaction and added a word.
"Understood, Master Jin. I shall repay you properly."
"Repay? For what..."
The man, who had suddenly said something incomprehensible, turned around coolly, as coolly as his looks.
'Nothing to worry about too much.'
And no wonder, since the food was worth one silver coin and twenty copper coins, yet the handsome middle-aged man had boldly thrown down a whopping five silver coins.
Had he calculated labor costs, service, and mental damage compensation for the forced BL viewing?
His generous disposition seemed to soothe my shock a bit.
And just in case, I didn't close early but kept the restaurant open until dawn.
Since it was quite bustling today, perhaps someone might see that and come.
'As if.'
I blankly watched the moon until business hours ended.