chapter 90

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 90

By the time they finished harvesting everything.

“...”

“Alright, now let’s go wash them.”

“Um, Teacher, this is a bit...”

“There’s no time.”

Gio and Iser headed to the stream with the harvested crops.

“It’s convenient, isn’t it, having a stream right in front of the house?”

“Ah, it’s freshwater... right?”

“There’s no way there’d be seawater in the middle of a forest like this.”

“That is true, but... here, I feel like common sense rarely applies.”

“This 정도 is common sense.”

They washed off the crops with dirt on them.

Not only one basket of tomatoes that would be the main ingredient, but also onions with firm bulbs, and six each of potatoes and sweet potatoes, one head of cabbage, ten pods of peas, one small pumpkin, and even three carrots.

“...”

“...”

With each one being so big, they gathered into a small hill.

“...Was it a bit much?”

“I was going to say this isn’t really...”

“You enjoyed it too.”

“Th... that is true.”

Because it reminded him of the old days, Iser only realized after a long while that the situation had started turning strange.

And by the time he realized, the hill was already in the middle of being completed.

It was too late to regret it.

Iser smiled awkwardly.

“At this rate, we’ll get three huge pots.”

“A joke—no matter how much it is, it’ll be one pot.”

“...”

“...Though it does feel like it might increase a bit as we make it...”

Since Gio enjoyed cooking by roughly tossing things in by feel rather than measuring exact quantities thoroughly, the amount often increased absurdly during the cooking process.

Aria used to watch that and say, ‘Stew multiplies.’

“...Mm...”

Gio was unashamed.

“If we make it first, we can eat it for a long time or share it with the neighbors.”

“I’m not sure, but where are there any neighbors here?

Beyond this forest?”

“Iser’s ‘Deep Sea Temple’ can be called my neighbor’s house too.”

“The range of what you call a neighbor’s house is truly wide.

I’m impressed by that inclusiveness.”

“You can’t see it now, but if you go in front of the portrait, sometimes neighbors appear.”

“Ah, like that...”

Nodding, Iser stiffened for a moment.

“...Did you share it with humans?”

“Are you displeased?”

“I can’t say that’s not part of it, but... to those weak humans who would melt if you put them in seawater?”

“What would be the problem?”

“That...”

Hesitating, Iser said.

“...A gift like that seems excessive for humans.”

“Do humans not even have the right to eat my cooking together?”

“If you put it like that it sounds a bit strange, but isn’t that how it is?”

“You said you mustn’t discriminate over food people eat together, Iser.”

“...Of course that’s true too, but...”

Stopping mid-sentence, Iser mouthed his lips.

‘...Food made by a god can’t possibly be an ordinary gift.’

Iser still didn’t know exactly what Gio was.

But he was the so-called second-generation sun god who had inherited the sun god’s divinity, and even aside from that trait, he was an existence of a faraway rank that seemed to have a “portrait” as its foundation.

‘Can someone like that cook and have ordinary food come out?’

Ordinary people called such things holy relics.

Much less an ordinary object you could only look at or touch—if it was edible food you could consume... humans often called it a god’s selection.

It created saints and saintesses.

“...”

“Iser?”

“...Well, since it has the form of tomato stew, it’s awkward to say anything.”

“Stew is stew—what else would it be?”

“No, anyway, it is food.

Teacher’s words are all correct.”

Even when he was human, Giovanni often did things that went beyond common sense and limits.

Even if he went around scattering tomato stew close to a holy relic among Earth people now, it wouldn’t be all that strange.

“But I’m still jealous.

That humans would receive that kind of goodwill from you, Teacher—it twists my insides.”

“For your insides to twist just because I share some cooking?”

Giovanni shrugged.

“This kind of thing happened often when we lived in Edlen Village too, didn’t it?”

“Those crafty ones who ate that delicious cooking and in the end betrayed...”

“Eat one more tomato.”

As a mermaid who, by body structure, had no choice but to be a big eater, Iser did not refuse the food Gio gave.

It was a very delicious tomato.

“Even so, I think the amount will increase.”

“If there’s still some left even after sharing, won’t it be up to you all to take care of it?”

“Wh-why... why do we have to take care of it?”

“...”

Gio looked closely at Iser.

“...”

“...Um...”

“Still too skinny.”

“Teacher, most mermaids have this build.”

“I don’t like it in this teacher’s heart when you’re so gaunt.”

“I’m not gaunt.”

Gio was someone who couldn’t stand the sight of people going hungry even in the past, but for some reason, it felt like his generous hand had grown even larger while Iser wasn’t looking.

Iser recalled Giovanni, who had smiled wistfully and said, ‘I hope everyone becomes pigs.’

‘How can a person not change this much?

No, it feels like he’s gotten worse...’

Leaving Iser like that, Gio began the next task.

“Now we have to cut them.

Iser, if you’re all right with it, could you check the state of the cudgel trumpets now?”

“...Ah, yes.

I’ll change the water once, then go to the kitchen.”

“Come slowly.”

Gio carried the hill of countless vegetables and went into the cabin.

“...”

“Oh, Aria.

Have you been resting well?”

“...What are you trying to make?

Are you trying to donate stew for poor relief?”

“No, it’s for us to eat.”

“Gio, I say this every time, but we’re a species that can’t become pigs.

A mermaid’s body can’t change easily.

Even with my research, it’s hard.”

“You mustn’t be bound by your own limits like that.”

Gio, who encouraged the courage of his former student who had returned to an adult form, set all the vegetables down on the kitchen table.

Because there were so many ingredients, it wasn’t a thump but a rrrrrumble that echoed through the cabin.

Dana, who had been receiving affection from the teddy bear, hopped up onto the table.

“Mrrp-jonjon?”

“Trying to eat now?

It’s not cooked yet—won’t you get sick?”

“Mrrp-jonjonjonjonjom?”

“Ah, wait, no.”

“Mng.”

Dana clamped a sweet potato in her mouth and ran off.

“...Such clear goal awareness, my daughter.

Later, you’ll grow up to be a fine hunter.”

Soon, Honey flew over and sat on his shoulder.

“Coo-ruruk?”

“Did you come to steal ingredients too?”

“Koong.”

“Right, it’s better to eat it cooked.”

After nodding once, Gio began prepping the ingredients.

“First, it’s best to sauté the onions.”

There were many methods of making stew from house to house.

Some households sautéed the meat that would go into the stew first, while others started with onions to build savoriness.

Some places even reduced tomatoes first to make a rich flavor, but Gio preferred sautéing onions in butter first.

“That way, the onions’ savoriness comes up fully.”

“Coo-ruk?”

“Meat?

If you sauté the meat first, fond sticks to the bottom of the pot and the broth flavor jumps up, but since it seems similar if you char it in another pan and then add it anyway... I put onions in first.”

Especially with stainless steel pots, there were cases where the bottom would burn first before reaching a satisfying state.

Since Gio wasn’t a professional chef, he often had no choice but to make mistakes.

“Certainly, the onion-and-butter combination is the most stable.”

Tomatoes were the same.

“Even if you don’t reduce tomatoes first, the moisture will evaporate while it boils, and since I’ll add tomatoes after onions anyway, I don’t think it makes a big difference.”

“Coo-ruruk, coo-ruk.”

“Ah, of course, if you want the flavor of sautéed tomatoes, it would be reasonable to put them in first.

But if you make tomato paste in advance, you can always put it in later.”

“Coo-ruruk?”

“...Right now, I don’t have paste made.”

Tomato paste was, simply put, a sauce with a very strong tomato taste.

Usually, you make it thick and rich to suit a household’s palate, then later dilute it as needed.

“...”

Gio nodded.

“Looks like I have more to make.”

“Kuuk.”

“Things like paste make you feel like you have a roomy pantry in your heart.”

The more pickles and sauces, the better.

If you make them well once, the whole year becomes abundant.

You could chop onions small just to draw out savoriness, but cutting them a bit larger to help texture was good too.

In stew, well-cooked onions had a fun texture—soft and tenderly crumbling.

After cutting the onions to a suitable size, Gio put butter into a large pot and melted it.

“The more butter, the better.”

“Kuuk?”

“Should I call it pig-raising season?”

The more butter and the more meat you add, the tastier stew becomes—that was the rule.

Even people who claimed it was good because it was healthy said, in the end, it had to have things that were bad for the body to taste good.

“And now, put in all the onions...”

Iser, who returned after changing the purging water, asked.

“Are you perhaps planning to make onion soup?”

“Onion soup is nice too, but today the main character is tomato stew.”

“Ah, I see...”

“Stir it.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

After entrusting the pot to Iser to stir so the onions wouldn’t burn and would turn into a delicious brown, Gio continued prepping the ingredients.

Next, of course, were the tomatoes.

‘They’re definitely softer than Earth tomatoes.’

It felt strongly like an elastic jelly, or pudding.

When he pressed the blade down, it pushed in like cutting a huge jelly, then slowly and stickily split apart, making that viscous tissue easy to imagine.

“In go the chopped tomatoes.”

“It already feels like the pot will overflow.”

“Then we’ll add one more pot.”

“So in the end it will multiply to three...”

“I’ll try to stop at two.”

“I’m counting on you.”

Iser didn’t say anything more and simply added one more pot.

“I believe in you.”

“I will repay your trust.”

“May it not overflow.”

When Gio briefly drew the sign of the sun and offered a prayer, the teddy bear that had been playing with Dana in the living room flinched.

Naturally ignoring it, Gio continued prepping.

He peeled the potatoes and diced them into bite-sized cubes.

He carved half of the sweet potatoes he had pulled up into long stick shapes, and washed the other half well and set them on a strainer.

“These sweet potatoes, I’m going to roast them over a campfire later to eat—nice, right?”

“Coo-rurururururururuk.”

“What a splendid pig—you’re qualified to be my son, indeed.”

With a noble smile fitting a high priest, Gio nodded and continued prepping.

For the cabbage, you remove the outer leaves, then use the inner head.

If you flip the cabbage over and slide the knife into the root part—shuk, suk, suk, syuk—piercing in a circle around the core, the core pops right out.

“A cabbage with the core removed only needs to be roughly quartered—the size will be fine.”

Next, peas.

“Sweet potatoes too, peas too—on Earth they aren’t used much, but Edlen stew is characterized by having various vegetables in it.

Especially since the tomatoes we’re using this time are quite sweet, it’ll be fine to add these soft ingredients.”

If you add beans to stew, the little popping chew you get together with the broth was nice.

More than anything, peas, once cooked, gave off a mild sweetness and a deep nuttiness, didn’t they?

Seo Gio especially liked peas among beans.

“And pumpkin, too.”

“Coo-ruk.”

“This one’s shape is different from Earth’s as well.”

The pumpkin he harvested was the kind commonly known on Earth—an old pumpkin with low saturation and a yellowish hue—but its size was as small as a kabocha.

Its sweetness likely wouldn’t be very strong, but it would add the pumpkin’s unique soft flavor and texture.

“If we wander around this forest, could we find a beehive too?”

“What are you planning to eat, Teacher?”

“The kitchen garden’s pumpkin isn’t that sweet, but its soft, nutty taste is superb.

If you steam it well and put honey and butter on top, it’ll be quite delicious.”

“That sounds good—honey and butter...”

“If you sprinkle a little salt, the flavor becomes much deeper.”

Answering Iser, Gio began prepping the pumpkin.

After scooping out the seeds and peeling the pumpkin completely, he cut it into suitably sized chunks as well.

It might be an unfamiliar combination for Earth people, but pumpkin that fell into tomato-based broth tasted surprisingly excellent.

“Peel and cut the carrots too...”

The vegetables were prepped.

“Next are the clams and sausage.”

“The cudgel trumpets were still spitting out a bit of mud.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“But it looked like they could finish purging in about twenty minutes.”

“Then shall we prep the sausage and the other clams first?”

Gio brought out ham and sausage he had made earlier from the wood-horned deer meat.

Some parts that had been salted and aged whole became excellent ham, and the sausage he sometimes grilled boasted the same deep aroma as before.

“First, we should remove the hard parts...”

For ham whose skin had hardened stiff, he cut away all the outer layer, then diced only the inside flesh—hardened bright red from curing—into small cubes.

For the sausage, he decided to use the minced meat inside after removing the tough intestine casing.

“...But since it’s a lot of work, it feels like a waste to throw away the casing too.”

“Coo-rukgurururururur.”

“Tripe that gets nuttier the more you chew...”

In the end, he decided to cut the casing to a suitable size and try putting it into the stew too.

It was dried and a bit tough, but once it was boiled vigorously in hot stew, it would quickly regain its chewiness.

This casing was particularly resilient.

“How is the stew coming along?”

“It seems it’ll need some time until the vegetables are cooked.”

Stew boiled with all kinds of vegetables and Edlen Village’s groundwater was characterized by a thoroughly softened texture.

It seemed it would need another hour, so Gio nodded.

“Then let’s put the prepped meat into one pot.”

“We’ll need to keep watching the stew so the bottom doesn’t burn—should we just put the meat in as is?”

“I’ll sauté it, so keep watching the pot.”

After quickly sautéing the cured meats to pull up the aroma, Gio put them all into one pot. After being simmered for over an hour, they would yield tender meat.

And in the remaining time, he prepped the clams.

“Sunlight conch and black tray clams taste best grilled... so I’ll scrape out the flesh of only a few, and leave the rest as they are...”

Especially black tray clams cooked easily even over low heat, so he had to be careful about controlling the fire.

Gio called Aria, who was standing near the kitchen watching him cook, and asked for help.

“Aria, could you help prepare for grilling?”

“...Like before, should I prepare a campfire?”

“I’d be grateful if you also build walls so we can hang a grill grate.”

“That’s not difficult.”

Aria left the cabin, tucking the teddy bear at her side.

“...?

Why is Father...?”

He didn’t know why she took the sun god along, but it seemed like an amusing happening would occur, so he ignored it for now.

Gio brought the purged cudgel trumpet clams, washed them once cleanly, and split the shells—similar to razor clams—to take out the flesh.

A large, soft flesh, like a long connected scallop adductor, was revealed.

“...”

“Kuuk?”

“Good.”

This was it.

“It would taste good as sashimi too, though.”

Gio cut away the tough, chewy parts with a knife, then sliced the flesh into pieces about 1 cm thick.

When he put the pale-yellow flesh—neither too thin nor too thick—into his mouth...

‘This is romance, this is paradise.’

That sweet, springy taste that melted away was no joke.

“Ah...”

Couldn’t we just eat this as sashimi.

A clean cheongju, and a bite of sweet sashimi.

For Gio, a man in his thirties officially reported dead, it was an unbearably powerful temptation.

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons

Fantasy, Modern,