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Chapter 9
Hamilton, the head chef, cast an anxious glance.
Ignoring his gaze, she casually picked up the garlic bread.
“A-ah, my lady. Of course, you made it yourself, but eating that is dangerous, my lady. My lady!”
Ignoring Hamilton’s desperate attempts to stop her, she took a big bite.
Crunch—.
…Ah.
This was it.
“…heavenly.”
A bell rang inside her head.
Ding— ding—.
A transcendent level of umami that surpassed all imagination!
The baguette, soaked once in butter, touched her tongue and a gentle sweetness spread softly.
The richness of heated butter intensified, surging through her mouth like a wave.
And then came the finishing touch—garlic.
Garlic… is this insane?
This world’s garlic… was different. Unusual. Extraordinary.
Even before cooking, its aroma had been overwhelming—but this depth of flavor?
It was clearly superior to the garlic from her previous life. At this point, calling it “garlic” felt wrong. It deserved its own name—Amuir.
A majestic flavor impossible to comprehend with the shallow human brain unless experienced firsthand. It was the crystallization of humanity’s culinary history!
For a moment, she staggered back as dizziness hit her.
She barely managed to steady herself, her entire body trembling.
“L-lady? Are you unwell?”
“Ugh… ngh…”
“L-lady?!”
After trembling alone for a while, she finally blurted it out.
“Awesome… perfect…”
Without realizing it, she muttered the cheap words of her past life’s language.
It was truly a dangerously seductive food.
Garlic bread.
No—Amuir bread.
Terrifying.
She trembled at the overwhelmingly violent taste, then slowly regained control.
This was… clearly a revelation.
To monopolize this would be a crime!
Having lost all rationality after tasting garlic bread for the first time in 18 years, she suddenly grabbed Hamilton by the shoulders.
“H-h-huh?! My lady?!”
“Hamilton.”
Her low voice came out. Even she could tell it sounded ominous.
“I truly find this regrettable. How much hardship you must have endured. Despite making your living as a chef, you were reduced to nothing more than controlling a flame. How tragic.”
“Y-yes? W-what do you mean?”
Hamilton looked confused, but she continued without caring. Words poured out uncontrollably.
“This world is too small to contain your abilities. How painful it must have been.”
“…!”
“But do not worry.”
She tightened her grip on his shoulders.
“From today onward, you will reach a new horizon.”
Then she lifted the garlic bread.
Hamilton’s gaze darted between the bread and her face, his eyes gradually moistening.
Bread. Her. Bread. Her.
Back to bread.
Back to her.
“…My lady… surely you don’t mean—”
She nodded gravely.
“Eat it.”
“…!”
Hamilton’s face turned pale.
He staggered backward in panic, but her grip held him firmly in place.
“A-ah, my lady! What strength is this?! Please, let me go!”
“Where do you think you’re going? I’m trying to help you.”
At her gaze, Hamilton trembled.
Yet she did not release him.
This incompetent man—how could the head chef of the estate be so fragile?
Hamilton, foolishly clinging to the Iris God’s doctrine, seemed unwilling to let go of his culinary limitations.
“Even in the duke’s household, you must follow doctrine…!”
It was like a frog in a well.
In a world with religious freedom, it was strange for one religion to dominate 95% of society, but even though the Iris Church was the state religion, there was no formal law forcing absolute adherence.
Only social norms made it feel obligatory.
Of course, if someone truly believed in the Iris Church, she had no right to stop them.
But…
Then they shouldn’t have chosen this profession.
A chef who was told to avoid cooking—what kind of contradiction was that?
Only grilling steaks and making salads, nothing else. Was he truly satisfied with that?
“Don’t you want more?”
“…Pardon?”
Hamilton froze.
She seized the opening and pressed further.
“I will take responsibility. Just try it once!”
To be clear—
“A-ah, my lady!”
“Open wide—garlic bread incoming!”
At that moment, she had completely lost her rationality. …Probably.
“No!”
“Yes!”
Hamilton, weakened, finally shut his eyes tightly.
One second passed like an eternity.
—gulp.
A clear swallowing sound echoed.
Hamilton’s eyes shot open.
Hamilton Race
Hamilton Race was born the third son of a poor viscount family.
Normally, a third son of a viscount either becomes a knight—or a servant in a high noble household.
But Hamilton had been captivated by something else.
This is delicious… I didn’t know cooking was this fun…
That something was cooking.
To think a noble would pursue what commoners did?
His family and elder brother looked at him with disdain, but Hamilton’s resolve did not waver.
Compared to monotonously swinging a sword, cooking—where ingredients and methods changed flavor endlessly—was infinitely more fascinating.
To be hired by the Lockhart Duke’s household… what an honor!
Perhaps his passion had been recognized. Hamilton had been employed as head chef of the Lockhart Ducal House.
What kind of place was the Lockhart House?
Among the few ducal families of the Empire, it was the greatest of them all. Royal among royals.
A founding noble house that had shaped the empire’s history itself.
To prepare meals for such prestigious nobles—he felt immense pride.
…At least, that’s how it should have been.
“Eat it.”
From the most beautiful young lady of the ducal house, he was now being threatened.
She had stormed into the kitchen, nearly made him faint, and then began cooking something utterly bizarre.
But it was not cooking as Hamilton knew it.
Amuir?! What in the world?! She’s going to eat that?!
The ingredients were strange. The method was stranger.
She melted butter with mana, crushed Amuir into it, and mixed in a strange yellow viscous liquid.
His mind reeled at the absurdity.
The lady, who had suddenly become a saint of a heretical church after receiving divine revelation, had already caused the mistress of the house to fall ill from shock.
From everything he had witnessed, something had clearly taken hold of her.
“L-lady. Of course you made it yourself, but that is dangerous, my lady! My lady!”
But the lady, still preparing the unknown dish, finally tasted it—and began trembling violently.
Her expression turned ghostly pale.
Was it an evil spirit?
Then… was this some kind of demonic summoning ritual?!
“Hamilton.”
He froze at her call.
“This world is too small to contain your abilities.”
Her gentle voice, as if overlooking his entire life, made him tear up without realizing it.
But then he saw her trying to force him to eat the strange food she had made, and he became even more certain—she was possessed.
Demons deceive people with words…!
She overpowered him with terrifying strength.
He struggled, but in the end, he could not resist.
“No!”
“Yes!”
And finally—
—gulp.
He swallowed it.
…Something unknown.
“……!”
…Something called food.
