chapter 92

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 92

Gio had no thoughts at all.

“Mm...”

As he bit into a mouthful of stew, warmth spread through his whole body.

‘This is it.’

Gio nodded.

Thinking about anything other than the meal at the table was an insult to the meal, and no different from declaring war on pigs.

More than anything, in a situation where he was having such a phenomenal meal, he couldn’t even have stray thoughts in the first place.

‘It’s really good food to eat when your body is cold or hollow.’

Even as a priest of the sun who lived with warmth always by his side, it wasn’t as if he never caught a cold or got sick.

When that happened, Giovanni would boil up stew like this and eat it.

The charm of warm food like stew felt even more alluring, especially when the body ached.

“Delicious.”

“Coo.”

Of course, it was delicious even when you were healthy.

‘This is why you eat stew.’

Tomatoes’ natural tang, when it holds warmth, produces a deeper flavor.

Like a sticky yet sweet broth from simmering chicken feet for a long time, it gave off a complex fragrance, and the flesh that crumbled softly even with just the tongue gave off a refined sweetness of some sort.

“It goes well with carrots too.”

“That’s what’s good about Edlen stew—no matter what you put in, it goes well.”

“It’s a characteristic of tomato stew too, though.”

The stimulating aroma unique to carrots—bitter yet sharp and stinging—had seeped gently into the stew.

Not so assertive that it felt unpleasant, yet as carrots harmonized with the other ingredients and soaked up the broth, even their texture revealed a distinct grain.

“And... I think it was a good decision to add potatoes.”

If you were talking about soaking up broth, you couldn’t leave out potatoes.

“Iser suggested it, didn’t you?”

“Our house’s stew... we used to put them in often, too.”

“That’s right. It brings back old times.”

“They’re cooked really well.”

“It’s thanks to Iser stirring it well.

I can tell the heat spread evenly.”

On top of the tomato’s red flavor, potatoes that had taken in the juice of deeply steeped vegetables were so soft you could mash them with your gums.

The finely crumbling texture unique to potatoes added a weight to the stew that might otherwise feel like it would fly away on tang and sweetness.

‘Maybe because the other ingredients have such clear assertiveness, adding something like this with a plain flavor deepens the stew a lot.

And for that, there’s no ingredient that fits as well as potatoes.’

And potatoes didn’t just serve as a blank canvas.

“Even if you only drink the broth, you can feel the ingredients’ aroma.”

The starch that seeped out from the potatoes also acted as a stepping-stone, binding the vegetables together and gently sublimating their juices.

Gio smiled slightly as he looked at Iser.

“With so many ingredients to stir, your arm must have hurt.”

“Th... that’s embarrassing.

I’m past the age where my arm would hurt from something like this.”

“Is that so?

To my eyes, you still only look young, so this is quite a big problem.”

The cabbage mixed in was pretty good too.

“The cabbage is cooked perfectly.”

“Coo-rururur.”

“Yeah, I like cabbage like this best too.”

Cabbage that had soaked up broth based on tomatoes.

Stained blotchily with the color of the broth, the cabbage seemed to give a strange springiness when you bit into it, then quickly crumbled and exhaled a mild juice.

The warmer broth that spread throughout the mouth was different from the stew’s.

“Ah, right.”

Gio looked back at the campfire where the clams were cooking.

“I think we can start eating the clams soon.”

“Ryu-jonjonjonjeom?”

“You, too, have the qualities of a pig—wait just a little.”

When he stroked Dana’s small, round head once, the cat’s triangular ears folded back, slid, then returned.

The fact that she laid her ears down even before his hand touched her was very cute.

‘I’ll worship and keep her for life.’

Just the feel of that small, precious skull fitting snugly in his hand was enough to make him full without even eating.

His heart became hot and sturdy, like beef-bone soup.

This is how you raise satisfaction in life.

“Let’s see...”

Most of the clams were fully cooked, so Gio put them onto a tray and brought it to the table.

There was a clatter as the shells bumped together.

The ocean scent unique to clams infused with charcoal smoke mixed with the forest’s soft spring breeze and gave off a pleasant haze.

“They look like they’re cooked.”

“Will you open them for us?”

“No. You’re grown now, so you have to open them yourselves.”

“The clams you opened yourself always seemed to taste better, Teacher, so that part is a little regrettable.”

“What do you mean regrettable... ah, hot.”

“Huh??”

Iser flustered.

“Are you burned?”

“Of course it’s hot.”

Aria, who naturally scolded her younger brother as if breathing, then looked at Gio as if dumbfounded.

“With the sun’s divinity in you, what kind of whining is this, Teacher.”

“It’s natural for freshly grilled clams to be hot, so without thinking I just—”

“Even after being deified, you can’t throw away human habits...?”

“It could happen. Why are you picking on me?

It would be good to abandon prejudice.”

“Prejudice, my ass—how unfair can this be.

I’m saying it because it makes no sense, aren’t I.”

“People must always live with an open mind.”

“Is this something you can do just by opening your mind?”

“You shouldn’t think so narrowly.”

After widening his student’s world one notch, Gio began opening clams with his usual noble—some would call shameless—smile.

Clams cooked to a good point each boasted plump white flesh, giving off the sweet, savory fragrance unique to shellfish.

“Being the second-generation sun god is nice in this way.”

“...Opening clams with your bare hands?”

“I always hated letting them cool to eat, so this worked out great.”

“Is it okay for divinity to be used for that?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Leaving the mermaids flustered at the sudden blasphemy, Gio and the teddy bear were simply enjoying themselves.

Their stomachs were still far from full, and there was plenty of room for grilled clams.

The teddy bear waited for the clam meat with an excited face.

Gio handed the teddy bear the flesh of a black tray clam, steaming with hot vapor and full of thick juice as rich as fresh sea urchin roe.

“Here you are, Father.”

“Coo-oo.”

“How does it taste?”

“Coo-coo-coo-coo-coo...”

“I’m glad you enjoy the taste of clams.”

The teddy bear clapped its plush paws.

Gio felt proud, and the mermaids looked dumbfounded.

Honey quietly slipped back into the stew pot, and Dana finished all of her share of stew and flopped over on her back.

‘A peaceful mess.’

This could be called a true summary of life.

He felt pleased and proud.

As expected, there was nothing he couldn’t do.

Gio lifted up another black tray clam.

Its shape resembled abalone, but the shell was far blacker and smoother, and the flesh cooked over charcoal boasted a white, tender look.

‘Compared to this, abalone is closer to yellow.’

Black tray clams boasted such vivid black and white that your eyes would hurt if you stared too long.

The whiteness of the flesh was different from abalone.

It also differed in that the edges weren’t knobbly at all, but cleanly rounded.

But the taste and texture definitely brought abalone to mind.

“...”

Chewy.

“Oh.”

Insane springiness hit Gio’s brain.

‘It’s nice to eat it again after so long.’

At the crazed umami, his salivary glands flared up irritably.

It was truly like natural dashida.

The flesh, where you could feel the black tray clam’s strong vitality, was bouncy without being unpleasant, and the flavor that became even more savory the more you chewed was like fire-roasted nuts.

‘Maybe because it wasn’t grilled that long, it’s tender too...’

Should he say it has grain?

The flesh, scattering softly like silk, split helplessly when you pressed it with your teeth, giving the pleasure of chewing.

The clam juice that flowed out without reserve felt similar to clam soup eaten on a winter day.

“...”

Since the meat wasn’t small, his mouth was full.

Gio only opened his mouth after quite a while.

“It’s so delicious.”

“...It looks like it.”

“This is life.”

“You’ve gotten even more gluttonous while I wasn’t looking.”

“And you lot disappeared.”

“Haha...”

Iser smiled a calm smile that resembled Giovanni’s.

“Since we didn’t need to eat, we didn’t really find ourselves doing it.”

To be honest, it wasn’t only that.

It was Iser who had eaten Gio while he still had breath.

Was it because the sensation of those living muscles writhing in his mouth still remained?

After that, unless it was a necessary situation, Iser didn’t put anything in his mouth.

“Still...”

“This is delicious, right?”

“...Yes, it’s delicious.”

For the first time in a while, it felt like he was truly eating ‘food.’

“It feels good.”

To the point he might even be under the illusion he’d become human.

“Sunlight conch... are you going to use the shell, Teacher?”

“Later, I’m going to grind it finely and make paint.”

“I see.”

Giovanni used shells like these to paint pictures.

He especially liked drawing the sea, and in his paintings, the sea’s scent was always there.

“Then we should gather them up.”

“Please do.”

Whether Iser fell into sentiment or not, Gio lifted up a cudgel trumpet this time.

The clam, with a round surface area as wide as a pen shell adductor, had already split half its shell open and revealed the flesh.

“...”

Gulp.

His teeth sank right in.

“...It turned out really soft...”

“Because I grilled it.”

“Splendid, Aria.

You really do have talent for cooking.”

If you grill them too long, they get tough—that was a trait of clams, but in the case of cudgel trumpets, if you cook them at the right temperature and time, you could feel supreme softness.

That tender softness where the delicate grain melted away was even softer than pen shell adductor sashimi.

‘To feel this texture from warm grilled clams.’

For Giovanni, it was a texture he could taste without difficulty, but for Seo Gio, an Earthling, it was an unfamiliar, thrilling sensation.

Come to think of it, Giovanni’s favorite clam had been cudgel trumpet as well.

“It feels like it would taste good grilled with butter...”

“It’s food we didn’t try making when we lived in Edlen Village.”

Aria laughed softly.

“Even in that place, butter wasn’t such a precious ingredient.”

“More than that, it was being avoided.”

Butter was bothersome to make, and it was strongly seen as leftover dregs of milk.

Besides, in a seaside village with the coast right there, it was difficult to raise cows, so there weren’t many dairy-based dishes.

“But it really would taste good grilled with butter.”

“...We can try it later.”

“Good.”

Sunlight conch was a bit inconvenient to pick the flesh out and eat.

You had to use a dedicated skewer and spin it around and around before the flesh popped out, and it had a texture quite similar to conch on Earth.

But its sweetness was exceptional.

“...”

This sweetness deeply infused into the flesh itself, and a bitter stimulation that brought to mind the scent of medicinal herbs.

Sunlight conch had such an effect of warming the body that there was even a superstition that eating it when you had a cold would cure you.

‘...It really does feel like that, so is it used as medicine too...’

Since it was the sunlight conch of a nation that served the sun god, did even shellfish receive a bit of benefit, or so he thought, amused.

It had a sweet-salty taste that felt like it would season spicy whelk salad just right.

“I thought mermaids weren’t good with spicy food—how is it now?”

“At this point, we’ve come too far to fuss over things like that.

When it comes to eating, there’s nothing that could be called a problem anymore.”

While cutting and eating the cudgel trumpet flesh, Iser continued.

“So if we wanted to eat it, it seems we could eat anything.

Even what you could call preferences have faded a lot, and rather than the mermaid who lived in that sea back then, even our biological traits changed...”

“Then you can eat something a bit spicy too?”

“I haven’t particularly sought it out, but yes.

Is the dish you’re going to make next a bit spicy?”

“It shouldn’t be that spicy...”

“Thinking of the experimental cooking you liked, Teacher, I can’t feel reassured.”

Saying that, Iser was smiling.

“Will you let me taste it before the meal?”

“Such mercy I can grant as much as you like.

If you help with the meal prep.”

“That sounds nice.”

Iser murmured.

“...It’s really nice.”

Unable to shake an odd feeling, he ultimately formed a question similar to his sister’s.

Why is it so peaceful?

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons

Fantasy, Modern,