Vikir, dressed as a witch, was stir-frying vegetables and meat.
A limited amount and quality of ingredients.
But the number of dishes that could be made from their combination is endless.
'Memories. I used to eat this a lot in the field.'
Vikir dipped a piece of dry bread into the milk, reminiscing about the past before the regression.
As the Age of Destruction dragged on, the more food ran out.
Most of the supplies brought to the front lines were burned by demon raids, and what little did arrive was stolen or embezzled by the higher-ups.
What did eventually fall into the hands of officers and soldiers at the end of the line withered, rotted, or spoiled.
Aside from their anger, the men on the front lines had to make the most of this extremely limited food supply.
Along the way, Vikir learned a lot from his comrades.
How to prepare inedible ingredients to make them edible, what parts of poisonous vegetables to remove, how to restore freshness to meat that has lost its flavor, how to make astringent, bitter, or sour vegetables palatable, how to kill the individuality of spices that are too intense to be liked or disliked, how to make them taste universally acceptable, how to boil, how to stew, how to bake, how to grill, how to steam, how to stir-fry....
Now, Vikir was using his experience to make the most of the limited space and limited ingredients.
'A few simple snack menus will definitely be better than the chefs at the moment.'
After decades on the battlefield, a few of the old soldier's signature dishes were enough to overwhelm most chefs.
This, of course, is due to the advanced recipes of previous eras, and the taste of time spent in the field.
'The potatoes developed by Morg are earthy and tasteless, and the texture is like chewing sand....'
But Vikir chopped up the potatoes, seasoned them with salt and vinegar, and added mandrake leaves and sabac berries to the wok and fried them over high heat.
'This will completely remove the earthy flavor and bring out the sweetness and texture,'
Come to think of it, I had done this to potatoes once before.
'You don't have anything like this at home, do you?'
Suddenly, a clear face flashed before Vikir's eyes and then it was disappeared.
"...."
He stared at it with teary eyes.
'Hey. Why don't you come over and cook for me? I'll take you in.'
'Speaking of which, when do you get into the academy? Let's see. I'm probably going to get in early by a year or two. It would be so much fun if we were in first grade together....'
And then, as if on cue, they tangled, planning their future together.
'...where you are now and what you're doing.'
Vikir thought briefly.
Then he surprised himself.
That he still had time to think of others.
'I wonder if I have any sensitivity left.'
Vikir shook his head to clear his thoughts.
He turned his attention back to the reality.
'I'll see you soon enough.'
It's always a good idea to keep your hands busy when your mind wanders.
Cluck.
The chicken and potatoes are stir-fried, and the red soup seasoning is poured over the top.
This nameless dish, once eaten by mercenaries on the front lines in the Age of Destruction over the carcasses of demons, has been transported back in time and created in the Academy's festival bar and has become a very popular new menu item.
"...."
Vikir gripped the wok and turned his head.
Outside the kitchen, on the tables, he could see people drinking and eating snacks.
Good food makes people happy. Everyone was eating Vikir's food with a smile on their faces.
'... It was the same way back then, my comrades-in-arms, who are now dead, also enjoyed my cooking.'
The people who made it, the people who ate it, and the scenery in which it was enjoyed have changed dramatically, but the flavor is timeless.
And although it is a slightly different view,... the comrades-in-arms who are dead and gone are still alive in this era.
The comrades who ate rough food together and crossed rough lines together are still alive with young and innocent faces.
Kwok.
Vikir tightened his grip on the wok.
For their sake, he had to live this day, this moment, as best he could.
There would be more demons to kill, more lines of fire to cross, more strength to grow.
With that resolve, that sense of mission, Vikir turned his attention to the food in front of him.
Vikir put aside his personal thoughts and focused on the small tasks at hand.
Meanwhile.
"...."
Dolores stared blankly at Vikir in the kitchen.
"...wah."
Dolores's lips parted, even though she was holding it together. It's a very admirable look.
She had always thought of herself as the type of person who looked at the inside rather than the outside, but... that didn't mean she didn't look at the outside at all.
It wasn't that she didn't care about a man's face, it was just that she hadn't ever seen one that really impressed her.
It was only now that Dolores realized the significance of this.
"I can't believe he's wearing such a blasphemous outfit with a face like that. Why is he dressed like a witch....?"
She stumbled back to her senses and looked away.
A witch is the opposite of a saint, so it was natural for Dolores to be offended by the outfit.
But the other girls behind her had a different opinion.
" ... He's so fucking handsome."
The voice of the heart, unfiltered.
Dolores gasped, wondering if she'd said it out loud, but she hadn't.
Turning her head, she spotted a group of schoolgirls who hadn't made it inside the crowded bar, but had gathered at the fence outside to watch the kitchen.
Most of them were dressed as zombies, so the scene was quite apocalyptic.
"How can a man be so pretty, this is a scam!"
"Vikir, I love you! I love you! Can you please take a look at this place? Please! Don't just take my word for it, it's steamed!"
"Oh really, it looks like our Vikir is going to win all the 20th Golden Sexiest Newcomer awards this year~ Do you remember how when I was giving my acceptance speech, the entire audience was in tears, so I boiled and ate bear soup with it?"
"In the real world, all the sexiest creatures looked at our Vikir's breathtaking figure and retreated, retreating and disappearing even outside the empire, so they were all turned into barbarians. There's nothing we can do about it. Vikir is responsible for this. Vikir, the sexiness that has disappeared in this world from everyone but himself, let's eat it all. Ha really..."
"Vikir is so sexy that he beat up all the walls and broke the old border fence of the Warring States Period with his fists to unify the country, can he win the Imperial Peace Prize? Yes!"
"Ha wait a minute. I gave up on people who thought Vikir was sexy, and the empire was cut in half, so I came here high-fiving my friend from the Northern Varangian."
A large crowd of zombie cosplayers crowded around the bar's perimeter fence to get a glimpse of Vikir.
The sight of them, clinging to the fence and shaking the fence stakes to gain access to the kitchen, was apocalyptic.
"Yay, sales are exploding!"
"You're the best!"
Tudor and Sinclair excitedly began handing out numbered tags to customers outside the fence.
Despite the extra zeros added to the prices of the food on the menu, Vikir's creations are selling like crazy.
Most of the customers were from the nobility, so they weren't afraid to open their wallets despite the high prices.
"Huh! Look, guys, there's a new menu again! How in the world did you manage to make such a delicious snack out of leftover ingredients? What's the name of this thing? What? Nothing? It's just leftover ingredients? Let's put it on the menu as soon as possible! It's Vikir's special new menu!"
After revealing the fact that Vikir was actually a man, the number of female customers began to increase dramatically.
Surprisingly, the number of male customers didn't decrease at all, but actually increased.
"Wow, look at all the guys. Men just need to be pretty."
"Hey! It's a big deal! She's a guy!"
"I thought it was all about being really pretty~"
"Girls just need to be pretty, too, eek!"
"Did my school have a girl like that?"
"He's a freshman in this year's cold class. He's famous for doing a Colosseo Naphtali."
"I heard this place is a good restaurant."
"Take my order, please! I'll pay for my meal here in advance. Oh, and could you please put the drinks and food away, they're distracting from the view?"
Ugh. Professors and students, a crowd.
"Excuse me, Vikir, I'm sorry you're so busy, but do these come with extra toppings, and I'd like to try one of the new items you just added."
Even Prof. Banshee had taken up a table and was sitting down, placing one order after another.
Just then.
Bianca walked into the kitchen, fresh from a publicity stint.
When she saw Vikir holding the pots and ladles, she exclaimed in surprise.
"What the hell, why are you in the kitchen? Get out there and sell! Why are you rotting in the kitchen with that face!"
Hearing that, Vikir nodded and let go of the ladle.
At that very moment.
"No! The kitchen is ruined without Vikir's touch!"
Tudor rushes over and stops Vikir.
Soon, Tudor, the chef, and Bianca, the hustler, were arguing.
"Vikir is an asset to the kitchen, don't you dare take him away from us! How many lonely gourmets have fallen in love with Vikir's taste right now!"
"Are you kidding me, you want him to stew in that perfect witch costume? Every time he steps outside, sales go through the roof!"
Suddenly, a group of kitchen students swarmed behind Tudor, and a group of charmers behind Bianca, and they began to argue.
"Don't disrespect the kitchen!"
"The flower of a festival is attracting customers!"
Students from both positions, including Tudor and Bianca, began to fight for Vikir's position.
Just then.
"They shouldn't be fighting."
There was one person pulling Vikir to his feet.
A moment.
"?"
Vikir's expression turned slightly blank.
A familiar face.
… … Why is this person who should be on the far western border now here in the imperial capital?