The dish Picky and Shiho brought before me was described as "the most delicious meal in the world." I stared at the silver dome of the cloche, my mind racing with confusion.
What could it possibly be?
In the dystopian world I came from, any dish made with real, fresh ingredients was a miracle. If it was prepared by Kawasaki, it was guaranteed to be a masterpiece. But the term "the most delicious in the world" was a heavy, abstract title. As the cloche was lifted, a plume of steam momentarily obscured my vision. When it cleared, my breath hitched.
"This is..."
I knew this dish. It was a simple mound of rice wrapped in a thin, golden omelet, drizzled with a rich brown sauce.
"Omelet rice..."
Why this? How did Kawasaki know? I didn't remember ever telling him. The only people who might have known were Peroroncino or Ulbert. A flurry of questions erupted in my mind.
This was the only 'real' meal I ever ate back home.
I remembered my childhood, back when my father and mother were still alive. I had begged for it on my birthday. While the dish before me was infinitely more refined than what my parents had managed, the shape was unmistakable.
"Shiho, are you certain this is the meal for Lord Ainz?" Albedo asked, her voice tinged with doubt.
"Omelet rice? Isn't that a bit... simple?" Shalltear added.
"It seems... unexpected," Cocytus rumbled.
"It's a favorite of Mare's, but for the Master...?" Aura whispered.
As the Guardians questioned the choice, my hand trembled. I picked up the silver spoon and carved out a single bite. The aroma of the demi-glace sauce was intoxicating. The vibrant yellow of the soft-cooked egg contrasted beautifully with the deep red of the chicken rice beneath. I moved the spoon to my mouth and chewed slowly.
"Ah... it's amazing. But... but..."
It was terrifyingly good. I expected the rice to be heavy or soggy, but the moisture had been perfectly cooked off, leaving every grain fluffy and distinct. The chicken was seasoned to perfection, providing a savory bite that danced across my palate. It was better than the tonjiru in the village, better than the grilled rice balls... and yet...
"This isn't it. This isn't the most delicious meal in the world."
The words left my lips almost unconsciously.
***
Earlier, in the kitchen, I had taken a deep breath. This was the centerpiece of the banquet. Failure wasn't an option. It couldn't just be "good"—it had to be meaningful. The pressure was unlike anything I had felt before.
"Picky, Shiho. I need to focus. Leave the kitchen."
I sent them out, needing total silence. This was the most nervous I had been in my entire career.
"Alright. Let's do this."
I started with the chicken, dicing breast and thigh meat into uniform pieces and parboiling them in a seasoned stock. Next came the bacon—thick-cut for a heavy hit of salt to deepen the flavor. I minced the mushrooms and onions, completing the prep.
I heated a pan, coated it in oil, and then wiped it almost dry. Too much oil would make the final product greasy. I melted a knob of butter and tossed in the vegetables, chicken, and bacon. I used the spatula to break down the onions, ensuring the flavors would meld perfectly.
"Salt, pepper, dashi, chicken bouillon."
I seasoned the mix, stir-frying rapidly to ensure no clumps formed. Once the aromatics were ready, I added the cold rice. By now, my intent was clear: I was making Omelet Rice—the one dish Momonga had actually tasted in the real world.
I'm counting on you, Peroroncino, I thought. It was a story the archer had told me once. I didn't know if it was 100% true, but it felt right. I added the ketchup as the rice began to take on color.
"This is the moment."
This was the hardest part. Ketchup is watery and tends to clump. If I didn't work fast, the dish was ruined. I tossed the pan, cutting through the rice with the spatula.
"Perfect."
The rice was dry and separate, each grain coated in flavor. I plated it and immediately turned to the eggs. I cracked three Golden Hen's Eggs into a bowl, whisking them until they were a uniform silk. I ran them through a fine sieve to remove any remaining strands, then used a touch of magic to chill the liquid instantly. Once the bubbles vanished, I added a final pinch of seasoning and heated the pan until it was screaming hot.
I dropped in the butter. The moment it sizzled, I poured in the eggs, stirring frantically to incorporate air. This made the omelet fluffy and prevented it from overcooking. As the bottom set, I rolled the eggs toward the edge of the pan.
"Hup!"
With a flick of my wrist, the omelet flipped perfectly.
"Flawless."
I rested the omelet atop the rice. The center was still soft and custardy. I adjusted the edges to ensure the half-cooked top was presented perfectly, then drizzled the demi-glace around the base. I didn't pour it over the top—I wanted the eggs to shine. I covered it with the cloche and handed it to the chefs.
"Take this to Ainz. Tell him it is the most delicious meal in the world."
As they left, I collapsed into a chair. The tension had drained me. I sat there for a long time, unable to move.
***
I realized a heavy silence had fallen over the restaurant. The Guardians were staring at Shiho and Picky with murderous intent, clearly misinterpreting my statement. I had to speak up.
"No... that isn't what I meant."
"My Lord? Did they fail you? Should they be punished?" Albedo asked, her voice cold.
"This dish is magnificent," I said, my voice wavering. "It is, technically, the best meal I have ever had. But..."
I set the spoon down and looked at my Guardians. "Sit. Listen to me."
I needed to ensure the chefs' safety. "In my previous life... I was not born into wealth. I lived at the very bottom of society, where even finding enough to eat was a struggle."
The Guardians looked shocked. To them, I was a God. They couldn't fathom their master as a starving wretch. But the real world was a hellscape where everyone was just trying to survive the day.
"My parents worked themselves to the bone to give me a chance. I rarely saw them together. They were always working, one shift after another. But on one of the rare occasions they were home together... I made a selfish request. I told them I wanted omelet rice."
I hadn't realized back then how much of a burden that was. I hadn't understood the effort it took for them to scrape together the ingredients for my one childhood whim.
"They worked so hard to make it for my birthday. And honestly? It wasn't very good. The eggs were burnt, the vegetables were chunks, the meat was like rubber, and the rice was a soggy mess. Kawasaki's cooking is a thousand times better. And yet... to the boy I was then... there was nothing better in the world. I truly believed it was the pinnacle of cuisine."
My vision blurred with tears. I had spent so long as the Overlord that I had forgotten the faces of my parents. I had suppressed the pain of their loss for years. But the taste of this omelet rice brought it all back. I wasn't Ainz Ooal Gown. I wasn't Momonga. For a few minutes, I was just Suzuki Satoru.
"It was... so good. That meal... it was truly... delicious..."
In the steam, I saw them. They looked exhausted, but they were smiling at me with such kindness. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I sat there at the head of the table, the ruler of Nazarick, and let out a broken sob. The Guardians lowered their heads in somber silence, the only sound in the room being my muffled weeping.
***
"Forgive me," I said finally, wiping my eyes. "That was unbecoming of a ruler."
"We saw nothing, my Lord," Albedo whispered.
"You're a terrible liar, Albedo. But I appreciate the sentiment." I looked at the Guardians, who were all visibly moved, their own eyes red.
"This meal... it allowed me to remember. I wanted to forget the pain and the loss, but I realize now that I needed to remember the love. I have only gratitude for this."
It was the truth. My "most delicious meal" was a memory of a burnt omelet made with love. I sent a mental Message to Kawasaki.
(...Kawasaki. You made me cry in front of everyone.)
(Was it that good? Your parents' cooking?)
(Yeah. It was much better than yours.)
(Hah. I can't beat a memory, Momonga. My food is the best in the world, but memories... those are in a different league.)
I could hear the smile in his voice.
(Are you coming? The meal is over.)
(On my way. I've got Clementine with me.)
Clementine. I needed to reward her. Without her, Kawasaki never would have made it home.
"He's coming," I announced. "My friend, Kawasaki."
The doors swung open, and the rhythmic squeak-squeak of short legs preceded a deep, familiar voice.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Momonga."
The Guardians gasped. "Master Kawasaki!"
They stared at him, and then at the woman behind him—a human in a stunning yellow gown. They looked at her with sharp, suspicious eyes, wondering why a mortal was in their sanctuary.
"I will explain everything," I said. "This banquet was the beginning of a new chapter for Nazarick."
***
I sat in the private lounge with Kawasaki and Clementine after the banquet. The room was opulent, filled with red velvet and crystal, but I felt more at ease than I had in days.
"You cut the meeting short," Kawasaki noted, leaning back on a sofa. "Something on your mind?"
"I just didn't want to give them more chances to see through my act," I admitted. I was still in my human form, looking like the salaryman I used to be, minus the glowing red eyes.
"Can I ask a question?" Clementine said, raising her hand tentatively.
"Go ahead," I replied. I was surprised by how much more comfortable she seemed around me than the Guardians.
"Is that your real face? I saw the mask earlier... are you actually human?"
"Not quite," Kawasaki laughed. "He's just using my skill to look human. His true form is a bit more... intense. We'll save that for another day."
Clementine looked impressed. The idea that we could change forms so easily seemed to cement her belief that we were gods.
"From now on," I said, looking at her, "the name 'Momonga' is for Kawasaki's ears only. You will address me as Ainz."
"Yes... Lord Ainz."
"You protected Kawasaki. You treated his wounds and led him home. For that, you are granted protection within Nazarick. But remember: if you ever betray that trust, your life is forfeit."
Clementine swallowed hard but nodded. Kawasaki interjected before the mood got too heavy.
"Alright, enough with the threats. It's time for a real victory lap. Clementine needs a room, and I'm beat. She can stay in the guest quarters near my room so the others don't bother her."
We settled the details, and I felt a weight lift from my chest. Having Kawasaki back changed everything. I wasn't alone in this world anymore.
"Eating is living," Kawasaki said, echoing his own rule. "If you want to live, you eat. Right, Momonga?"
"Right."
We shared a final quiet moment as friends before the long work of ruling a new world truly began.
Next — Side Story 1: The Guardians' Regret / Kawasaki's Fury / The Fate of the Sunlight Scripture
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