I cast Humanization on myself. Shedding my chef's whites, I slipped into a crisp white dress shirt and a suit I'd borrowed from one of the male servants. Since my personal taste in colors didn't align with the reds of Demiurge's wardrobe, I'd ordered a brand-new set brought up. I was used to wearing suits in my previous life, so the fabric felt familiar, though the shift in perspective from my Cookman height was jarring.
"Good grief... there was really no need to put on a show for the Guardians," I muttered, clicking my tongue as I slicked my hair back with wax.
Momonga had laughed, saying that if I were to walk around humanized, the Guardians should at least know what I looked like so they wouldn't mistake me for an intruder. I knew exactly what that skeleton was doing—he was getting back at me for yesterday's antics by making me a public spectacle.
Well, whatever.
It was a hassle, but seeing Momonga acting more like his old self wasn't a bad thing. I could endure a little embarrassment for that. Besides, I was finally getting back outside to Carne Village, so it was a fair trade-off.
"I'm heading out for a bit, Clementine. Stay put."
"Wait, what—!? K-Kawasaki?!"
"Who else would it be?" I asked, looking back at her.
Clementine's eyes were wide as saucers, her face turning as red as a ripe apple. To her, this human version of me was a total stranger—and apparently, exactly her type. She stood there frozen as I walked out the door.
***
"M-Master Kawasaki?"
"I told you I was going to test the Humanization skill, didn't I?" I sighed.
Narberal and Yuri, who were standing guard outside the Throne Room, stared at me with their jaws nearly hitting the floor. I'd already stunned several general maids in the hallway. Since the only people on the Ninth Floor were me, Momonga, the NPCs, and Clementine, it wasn't exactly hard to narrow down my identity.
"What? Is something wrong? You've only ever seen me in the Cookman gear."
I smoothed out my black suit and adjusted the scarf around my neck. I checked my reflection in the polished walls. Nothing seemed out of place.
"N-no... it's just... you look very... dignified, Master," Yuri stammered, her face flushing. Narberal nodded frantically beside her.
"Right. Well, I don't care much for looks, but thanks."
Back in the Arcology, people had complimented my appearance plenty of times, but as a chef, I preferred praise for my food. My looks were actually part of why I'd ended up in the slums to begin with, so the compliments felt a bit bittersweet.
"Can you open the doors?" I asked.
"Of course! Announcing the entrance of the Supreme Being, Master Kawasaki!"
I stepped into the Throne Room as their voices echoed through the hall.
***
"Sister Yuri... if Shiho had seen that, we would have had a disaster on our hands," Narberal whispered once the doors closed.
"Indeed... it feels improper for a servant to say, but Master Kawasaki's human form is... breathtaking."
Inside the room, I walked up to the stairs of the throne. Momonga, in his own human form, rubbed his eyes and blinked several times.
"K-Kawasaki? Is that you?"
"Who else? Don't tell me you forgot what I looked like at the off-line meetups."
My voice was lower in this form, and I knew I sounded a bit irritable. Momonga quickly apologized, but I could see him studying me.
He looks nothing like he did back then, Momonga thought. At the meetups, Kawasaki had been casual, his hair messy. Now, in a sharp suit with his hair slicked back and those hawk-like eyes... he looked intimidating. Almost scary.
"Raise your heads and behold the glory of the Supreme Beings," Albedo commanded.
Shalltear and the other Guardians looked up, and the room went silent. The shock of seeing the round, orange creature transform into a sharp, powerful-looking man was written all over their faces.
"This is how Kawasaki will appear when operating outside Nazarick," Momonga announced. "Commit this face to memory."
"He looks so... fierce," Aura noted.
"A chef's life is a battle of stamina," I laughed, flashing a sharp grin. "You can't toss heavy pans all day if you're a weakling. Physical training is part of the job."
I was half-lying. I'd spent years in the slums dealing with thugs, yakuza types, and corporate saboteurs who tried to shut down my shop. I'd trained for self-defense as much as for the kitchen.
"I'd still rather you praise my cooking than my face, though," I added.
"Very well," Momonga said, regaining his composure. "Guardians, return to your posts. Aura, Mare, prepare for the experiments in the Great Forest. Sebas, stay behind. We have new orders for you."
I stepped forward to give Sebas his instructions. "It's simple. I need a full report on every seasoning and spice available in the Kingdom and E-Rantel. I want to know the price points, the quality compared to our stock, and the local culinary trends. What do they eat for breakfast? What's the standard dinner for a commoner versus a noble? Delay your departure to the Capital for a few days to conduct this survey."
"As you command," Sebas replied, though he looked hesitant. "However, Master Kawasaki... the food out there is crude. I fear it is beneath your notice."
"It doesn't matter if it's bad. If I'm going to open a shop to earn local currency, I need to know what the locals consider a 'baseline.' I can't cook in a vacuum."
Albedo looked disgusted at the idea of me cooking for "lesser beings," but I ignored her.
"One more thing," Sebas added, his voice dropping. "Last night... Solution found the local food so offensive that she... well, she overturned her plate and refused to eat."
My brow twitched. A cold, heavy aura settled over the room. Even Momonga looked a bit spooked.
"I see," I said, my voice like grinding stone. "Momonga, after the experiments, send me to E-Rantel. I'll take Cocytus with me as a guard. I think it's time for a lecture."
"S-sure, go ahead," Momonga stammered, overwhelmed by my intensity.
I bared my teeth in a grin that was anything but friendly. Albedo and Sebas actually shivered.
"It's time for a lesson in professional ethics. Sebas, don't tell Solution I'm coming. I want it to be a surprise."
***
We teleported to Carne Village, and I was immediately met with a sight that made my eyes go flat.
In the center of the village stood a massive wooden statue of my Cookman form. Lupusregina was leading the villagers in a prayer.
"Offer your prayers to Kawasaki, the God of Gourmet!"
"May the Master of Flavor bless our harvest!" the villagers chanted.
Momonga looked at me, then at the statue, and then back at me. I walked over to Lupusregina, grabbed her by the shoulder, and dragged her behind a nearby building.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, pinning her against the wall.
Because of our height difference, I had to look down at her. She didn't look scared; if anything, she looked thrilled. Her wolf ears were twitching with excitement.
"I was just... spreading your glory, Master! Is wood not good enough? Should I have used stone?"
"That's not the point!" I barked. "No more statues. And next time, ask me before you start a cult."
"Yes, Master! Whatever you say, Master!" She was practically vibrating.
I sighed and let her go. NPC quirks were a nightmare. "Fine. Get me five to seven villagers who have some experience with food and decent memories. Also, bring me whatever grain they have in storage and a way to grind it into flour."
Lupusregina dashed off, and I rejoined Momonga.
"I'm going to establish a local specialty here. We need a base of operations that actually produces something valuable."
"And what would that be?" Momonga asked.
"Bread."
I changed into my Cookman whites in a nearby empty house—the gear's auto-resize feature was a lifesaver. I tied a bandana around my head and headed to the village square. Lupusregina had gathered a group of women, smiling proudly as if she'd hand-picked a harem for me.
I looked at the grain they provided. It looked like wheat, but there was something off about it. A local variety, perhaps?
"Lupusregina, get to the mill. I need this turned into fine flour. Move it."
"On it!"
Next, I turned to the villagers. "Which of you can use 'Life Magic'?"
Two women raised their hands. I asked them to manifest salt and sugar. They complied, and I tasted the results.
Rough, full of impurities... but it's salt and sugar.
"Show me the bread you usually eat."
One of them handed me a hunk of black bread. It was hard enough to use as a weapon and tasted like sour dirt. It was made for survival, not enjoyment.
"Alright, I've seen enough. This hasn't been fermented properly. You don't have yeast, do you?"
They looked at me blankly. I didn't expect them to have modern dry yeast, but they didn't even seem to use a natural sourdough starter. I cupped my hands and used my skill to generate high-grade dry yeast.
"This is dry yeast. It's a powder that will make your bread softer than a cloud. Pay attention, because I'm only showing you this once."
***
For the next few hours, I ran them through the gauntlet. I pulled out a scale and forced them to measure every gram.
"8 grams of sugar, 3.5 grams of salt, 3 grams of yeast. Precision is the difference between food and trash!"
I taught them about water temperature, making them drink milk heated to "body temperature" so they could recognize the feel. I showed them how to knead—stretching, folding, and pressing the dough until it was smooth and elastic.
When the dough had doubled in size after the first fermentation, the villagers gasped as if I'd performed a miracle.
"It's alive!" one cried.
"It's just gas. Now, punch it down and reshape it," I commanded.
I gave them dough scrapers and timers, showing them how to divide the dough into equal portions and let it rest. While the final proofing was happening, I moved to the men working the stone oven.
"You lot, pay attention. While the bread proofs, we make butter. Take these jars of milk and shake them. Don't stop until the fat separates. This is a job for your arms, so get to work."
As I watched them work, my Cookman "Ingredient Compatibility" stat flickered over the villagers' heads.
0.05... 0.10...
Wait, why do humans have a food rating? I shook the thought away. Humans aren't food. Period. But it did explain why my "Everything Becomes Ingredients" skill produced junk when I used it on low-level skeletons—it was probably checking for that compatibility.
Momonga walked over, looking curious. "How's it going, Kawasaki?"
"I've found plenty of room for improvement," I said. "Alright, get the trays in the oven!"
I didn't have a skill to tell me when the bread was done, so I relied on my ears. I listened to the hiss of moisture and the changing thud of the crust against the stone. When the scent hit that perfect peak of toasted grain, I pulled the trays out.
"Not bad."
The bread was golden and airy. I split a roll in half, spread some of the fresh butter on it, and handed it to Momonga.
"I didn't do anything to earn this," he said.
"It's a taste test. Eat it or I'm throwing it away."
Momonga took a bite and his eyes lit up. "It's so soft... and the butter is incredible!"
"It's a start," I muttered. I could already see ways to improve the crust and the richness of the crumb. "You lot! Keep the butter jars moving. And try different baking times for the rest of the dough. I want to see what happens when you push it."
"We're leaving?" Momonga asked.
"Yeah, we've got a schedule to keep. But I'm coming back to check their progress."
As we walked away, I heard the villagers cheering. To them, I wasn't just a chef anymore; I was a miracle worker.
Little did I know, "Carne Soft-Bread" and "Kawasaki Butter" would eventually become legendary luxury goods, sold for astronomical prices in the Empire and Kingdom markets.
Back in Nazarick, Lupusregina was bragging to the other maids about how I'd called her a "bad dog" and pinned her against a wall.
"What a magnificent reward," Shiho sighed, biting her thumb in envy. "How do I get him to scold me like that?"
But that's a story for another time.
Next — Side Story 2: The Trickster / Kawasaki's Failure / Shadows over the Lizardman Heroes
***
If you want to read 10 chapters ahead or support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m /Well_being