As one might have guessed from the fact that they could take baths, sailors in this world enjoyed a high quality of life. The food and drink they had access to contributed to this as well.
During the earth’s age of discovery, most seafarers were forced to subsist on cured meats and biscuits that often became infested with maggots, and since fresh water could become stagnant, they relied on cheap alcohol to drink.
Things were different in Infinite Dendrogram.
Thanks to Inventories enabling long-term storage of many fresh ingredients, seafarers here could have three square meals a day. Forget the age of exploration—they enjoyed greater abundance than even some sailors in the year 2045. Seafarers in Infinite Dendrogram actually had to be mindful of their exercise or risk gaining weight.
The meals were perhaps the best part of this world’s voyages, and it was no different for those who hunted Abyss Shellder.
However, something was different about today’s dinner.
In the galley, which was enhanced with magical fire prevention, all the usual cooks were present...as well as a person in a bear costume.
Needless to say, it was Shu.
“Heh heh. It’s been a beary long time since I made food fur someone else,” he said, holding up a kitchen knife and an onion-like vegetable.
The other cooks were anxiously watching him prepare today’s dinner.
They’d only let him do this because he’d enthusiastically offered to.
After he escaped the bath, Shu—still in the chameleon suit—had begun walking around the ship. Eventually, he stumbled into the galley and saw the cooks preparing to make dinner.
Looking around, he noticed that they had a great selection of ingredients, and the sight filled him with the urge to do some cooking.
It was an impulse that occasionally sprang up in men who never cooked for themselves—though Shu’s reason for never cooking for himself might have been a little different than most people’s. That was why Shu had asked the cooks to let him handle it—and they’d agreed, though they were somewhat wary of the suggestion. The crew’s health would be affected by the food they ate, so they couldn’t leave it to a poor cook.
However, Shu was a Superior who’d just defeated a massive whale UBM. The cooks didn’t think that he was the unreasonable type, but they couldn’t totally dismiss the possibility that he was no better than the beast whose skin he wore. Even bamboo-eating pandas could easily kill people, and regular bears were an even bigger threat.
They’d thought that it was a bad idea to simply refuse him, so they decided to let him make one meal and see how it went. He had been asked to make a single meat dish so they could assess his skills before letting him cook for a huge crowd. That way, even if he made something terrible, it would have little effect on their food reserves. The cooks were ready to take responsibility for the results—and eat it all themselves, if necessary.
“Time fur the bear to whip up some grub!” Shu said as he started cutting up the onion. “Owww, my eyes...”
It’s getting him through that costume? the cooks wondered, but no one said anything.
Some of them, though, were watching his paws with growing surprise. Many were doubtful that he could even hold a knife with those, and yet the way he cut the onion was really...shockingly good.
He then processed a bell pepper just as skillfully before preparing the cooking space. While the empty wok heated up, he began mixing the spices he would use.
The cooks wondered where the meat was—but then they saw it arranged in a bowl, all covered in spices. How long had it been there?
Shu’s cooking remained brilliant even when it was time to fry. He handled the wok as though he’d had countless hours of training as a chef. He made the heavy iron pan seem light with how effortlessly he moved it, expertly controlling the heat and manipulating the ingredients.
Thanks to his STR, the wok weighed nothing at all to him. If anything, he had to take care not to crush it.
Soon enough, he had fried up a batch of ginger pork. Despite its simplicity, the dish made the cooks’ eyes sparkle—the addition of bell pepper and onion for extra color and nutrition really helped.
“Thanks for bearing with me!” Shu said as he handed the dish to the cooks, who all glanced at each other.
“I will go first, then...” The one who eventually stepped forward was the head chef. He was a man with over thirty years of cooking experience—a dignified veteran greatly respected by his fellow cooks. Taking a fork in hand, he brought the ginger pork to his mouth.
And then...
“K’pi polp pephoa...”
...words that didn’t even sound human escaped his mouth as he collapsed on the galley’s floor.
“CHEF!”
“What?! Is it poisoned?!”
“Hey! Bring that Elixir here! Now!” The other cooks gathered around and rushed to his rescue.
As he watched, Shu’s expression beneath the costume became slightly troubled. “...Crap. It’s been so long I forgot I gotta hold back.”
The cooks were having trouble reviving the head chef. They tried to feed him medicine and purgatives, but the man would not open his mouth. Even though he seemed to be unconscious, he was stubbornly refusing to let anything else past his lips.
The cooks gave up and poured the Elixir directly on him, but it had no effect, leaving them at a loss.
But a few moments later, the head chef hopped up from the floor like a spring-powered toy. His eyes wide open, his mouth still shut tight and silent, he simply stared at the dish.
Then, he swallowed what was still in his mouth before slowly pointing at the plate and issuing this warning: “It’s too good!”
He then dove for another bite. The others tried to stop him, but they were too slow, and the chef devoured more of the ginger pork.
“HHOOOPHHOOOAAAHHAAAAA!” He made another strange sound, but didn’t faint this time. And since he remained conscious, he was able to continue eating the meal—which he did as though possessed.
“Ohhh. It cooled off, so it ain’t as tasty anymore,” Shu muttered. “That’s not a good thing for a large dish.”
The man known as Shu Starling—Shuichi Mukudori—was very good at cooking.
Too good, even.
The complex harmony of flavors within his meals could overload a person’s nervous system, bringing it beyond the limit and shutting down their consciousness. And as good as he was in real life, Infinite Dendrogram had ingredients far more delicious than were possible in reality, while its kitchens were equipped with functions that improved the taste of food made within them.
Naturally, this made his meals even more destructive.
This dangerous level of deliciousness was why Shu usually didn’t cook for himself.
He’d actually held himself back this time and tried to make something good, but not too good. But because it had been a while since his last culinary endeavor, he’d miscalculated, and that had turned the head chef into the wreck of a human being he was now.
“HOOOOOOO! A PARADISE OF BEARS AND PIGS!”
“CHEEEEEEEEF!”
“...Sorry.” Watching the chef experience some sort of high that made poison seem almost like the tamer option, Shu expressed his sincere apologies.
✦ ✦ ✦
The head chef eventually snapped out of it, but didn’t give Shu permission to make food for the crew, because he didn’t want chaos to break out in the mess hall.
Nobody objected to this very reasonable decision.