Chapter 625: Genos, the New Generation Master of Overthinking
Borscht, in its purest essence, is a hearty stew of beef and beets. Yet, it is a dish so fundamentally simple that many mistakenly conflate it with traditional red cabbage soup.
In truth, the two are entirely distinct entities. While both rely heavily on the earthy sweetness of beets, borscht boasts a far more universally appealing palate. A classic borscht leans on beets as its foundation, often weaving in potatoes, carrots, spinach, tender chunks of beef, and a swirl of rich cream to achieve its signature, vibrant purplish-red hue.
In certain regions, tomatoes take center stage, relegating beets to a supporting role. There are even variations of orange and green borscht that eschew beets entirely in favor of tomato paste—a stark departure from the rigid rules of red cabbage soup.
There is an old culinary adage: "Red cabbage soup without red cabbage is simply not red cabbage soup." It sounds like a tautology, but when held against the sheer adaptability of borscht, the distinction becomes clear. Borscht is the ultimate chameleon of the soup world. It perfectly embodies the philosophy of a stew: infinite malleability. If even the foundational beet can be swapped out, what ingredient is truly sacred?
Onions can harmonize with nearly eighty-five percent of all ingredients, and potatoes are even more versatile. Anchor them with beef—the universal meat—and the pairing possibilities become astronomical. Cabbage, celery, dried chilies, soy sauce, butter, fragrant herbs, heavy cream, and cracked black pepper can all make an appearance. Even the beef itself offers endless variations: fatty brisket, lean shank, or gelatinous tendon.
Because of this great potential, the flavor profile of borscht is a kaleidoscope. It can be sharply sweet and sour, richly saccharine, fiery and tangy, or refreshingly light. Yet, amidst this whirlwind of flavors, the beef remains the undisputed monarch. Its quality dictates the entire texture and soul of the dish.
Traditional Russian red cabbage soup carries a spicy, sour kick, with the acidity heavily overpowering any sweetness—a profile that rarely sits well with the traditional Chinese palate. Over time, influenced by local ingredients and regional preferences, a uniquely Shanghai-style borscht emerged. This iteration is beautifully sweet and sour, intensely fragrant, rich without being cloying, and incredibly smooth.
The sweet and sour profile possesses a hidden culinary magic: it naturally tenderizes meat. The beef in this particular borscht had been simmered to such an exquisite state of softness that its tenderness was visually apparent. It was a melt-in-the-mouth delicacy that one could feel just by looking at the glistening, sauce-coated chunks.
Sweet, tangy, and deeply savory—every single bite was a velvety delight. It was the kind of intoxicating flavor that made it physically difficult to set the spoon down once the first taste hit the tongue.
Jabami Yumeko was currently lost in that exact culinary bliss, eating with a fervent, unapologetic joy. The refreshing yet decadently rich flavor had completely dismantled her usual composure.
Across the room, Momobami Kirari and her companions were dining with equal enthusiasm. To an outsider, they looked like a close-knit group of friends sharing a meal. In reality, these four women represented three entirely different factions—though one of them was notoriously fickle, always ready to switch allegiances at a moment's notice.
Yuuki Kyouko observed this entire dynamic in quiet contemplation. It was abundantly clear to her now that Ren was not just wealthy in the ordinary sense. She wasn't naive enough to believe he was being funded by the women surrounding him. They all lived under his roof. If he were truly just a kept man, those fiercely independent women would have already torn each other apart fighting for dominance.
Releasing a soft, elegant sigh, Kyouko leaned over. "Asuna, I am going to use the restroom."
She did genuinely need to freshen up, but the moment she stepped into the washroom, her pristine heels halted on the tiles. She paused, her eyes sweeping the space. This restroom was a bit too luxurious.
'I really don't understand this place...'
Kyouko cast a wary glance toward the toilet, letting out a quiet breath of relief when she confirmed it was not forged from solid gold. If it had been, she truly wouldn't have known how to process it.
However, her relief was painfully short-lived. As she stepped up to the vanity to wash her hands, she froze. She stared at the sink, then slowly raised her wrist, comparing the high-end jade bracelet she wore to the carved stone beneath the faucet.
Her elegantly painted lips twitched. The entire sink was carved from a single, massive, flawless block of jade. And the basin itself? She leaned in closer, a terrifying realization dawning on her. The basin was hollowed-out crystal.
When Kyouko finally emerged from the hallway, her expression was entirely blank. Who was she? Where was she? It felt as though the very concept of money had just been violently devalued before her eyes. Was she simply hallucinating?
Before she could recover her shattered worldview, her attention was drawn to another table. Saitama and Genos were seated together, a plate of spare ribs and shrimp resting between them.
Genos stared at the dish, his cybernetic eyes wide with absolute disbelief. "Teacher! What kind of entity is this... this owner?! How can a simple dish of spare ribs and shrimp possess such overwhelming flavor?!"
Saitama gave a relaxed, simple-minded laugh, casually chewing on a piece of meat. "Ren is a really good guy. He's very easy to get along with. But, you know, rumor has it he's a Combatant. Like a martial artist. He's probably super strong. I'd actually really like to try fighting him sometime."
Genos's mechanical posture stiffened, his tone dropping into one of intense reverence. "Understood! That is truly impressive. A master chef who also walks the path of martial arts—what an extraordinary existence. It is no wonder he is acknowledged as Teacher's friend. He is truly remarkable."
Genos's internal logic was flawlessly straightforward: birds of a feather flock together. In his data banks, Saitama was the absolute pinnacle of strength. Therefore, anyone capable of earning the title of Saitama's friend must naturally possess unfathomable power in their own right.
Saitama scratched his smooth, bald head, thinking for a moment. "Well... Ren also seems to be really good at dating girls. He has a lot of girlfriends."
Genos paused, his glowing optical sensors whirring as he processed this new data. He was deeply curious about Ren now. According to the Hero Association's records, registered Combatants were almost exclusively towering, legendary mountains of muscle. Ren, by contrast, looked entirely ordinary. He even seemed a bit thin.
But then, Genos looked at the man sitting across from him. Saitama didn't look like a muscular brute either. He looked completely unremarkable. Yet, Genos had witnessed Saitama's world-shattering power firsthand. The correlation was obvious. Ren was using the exact same camouflage.
"As expected of Teacher's friend!" Genos declared, his voice vibrating with absolute awe. "His methods are truly beyond comprehension!"
Saitama blinked, his chopsticks hovering in mid-air. He didn't quite understand how Genos had leaped to that dramatic conclusion, but as long as his disciple wasn't being rude to the host, it was fine.
Saitama decided not to overthink it; focusing on his stomach was always the better option. His disciple was without a doubt strange, often falling into intense, silent analytical trances before suddenly blurting out dramatic, exaggerated conclusions. It was just how Genos operated.
A few steps away, Yuuki Kyouko stood frozen, her heart skipping a beat.
She was absolutely certain she had just heard the word "Combatant"...
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