Ding
“So, what kind of alcohol should we use this time?”
“His Lordship prefers brandy, so brandy for him. Young Lady Joan, how about yours?”
Since there were plenty of oume, we were making syrup and plum wine at the same time, some as gifts.
“I’ll make mine with barley liquor from the eastern lands—shochu.”
“““““Barley liquor!?”””””
“Ahaha, caught your interest, huh?... Here, have a taste.”
“““““Ah… excuse us.”””””
Gulp. “““““… Delicious!!”””””
“This… we’ll need to petition His Lordship to import liquor from the east…”
The cooks started seriously discussing it among themselves.
“Hey Joan, how do you use the syrup?”
“Hmm, you can mix it with water or milk to drink, or use it in cooking.”
“Ooh, that sounds fun. How long does it take to finish?”
“Once the rock sugar dissolves, it’s ready. But you need to gently shake the jars twice a day so the flavor stays even. If all goes well, it’ll be ready in two or three days. Plum wine takes longer—at least a year of aging. Some people even leave it for five years or more.”
“““““Five years!?”””””
“They say the longer it ages, the smoother it gets. But you’ve got to Cleanse it like today, or it’ll mold. Store it somewhere dark, like a pantry, and don’t open it for at least a year. Once opened, just Cleanse it again.”
“““““Got it!”””””
“Oh, and the oume you soaked can still be used—like cooking it down into jam.”
“““““Hee~”””””
“So, we’re only making syrup this time?”
“Ah, right… plum wine will have to wait until next year.”
The cooks all visibly drooped, shoulders slumping in disappointment. The gloomy air was almost comical.
(If only I could just chuck it in storage and have it age instantly… Should I try asking again?)
—Hey, Assist-chan! Tell me!
—A: Yesss, here I am!
—J: Can I use my Storage to fast-forward aging?
—A: Yep! It’s the Aging Function. When you store something, just picture how long you want it to age.
—J: Like… “one year later”?
—A: Exactly! And don’t worry—Storage has a reminder function, so even if you forget, it’ll notify you!
—J: No way!? That’s amazing!
—A: Well, I mean… Joan, you’re the forgetful type, right?
—J: Ugh… fair enough. So, is this Aging thing standard?
—A: Hah! As if! It’s only ‘cause it’s you, Joan.
—J: … Oof.
“… Joan? Joan, are you okay?”
I blinked—Belle was slapping my shoulder to snap me out of it.
“Ah, sorry! I’m fine, I’m fine. Just… confirming something.”
“Confirming what?”
“Um, apparently my Storage can do aging…”
““““““What!?””””””
“So, theoretically, we could drink aged plum wine today…”
““““““HUH!?””””””
“Ahaha… well, guess we’ll see. Let’s try a one-year aging, then.”
I placed the jar into Storage with that thought.
“““““… It disappeared!?”””””
“Yeah, Storage S lets me put things in and out just by imagining it.”
“““““Hee~”””””
—Ding!
“Eh?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you hear that? A ‘ding’ sound.”
“Nope.”
Belle asked the others, but nobody else heard it.
“Ah… maybe…”
I pulled the jar back out.
“… Looks like it worked.”
Where before it had been full of frozen plums and rock sugar, now the sugar was gone, the plums wrinkled, and the clear shochu had turned golden. The brandy batch hadn’t changed much…
Also, that ding sound—just like an old microwave. Easy to understand, at least.
“Delicious!”
D’Artagnan, the taste tester, confirmed it was the real deal. The other cooks were already licking their lips.
“Well then… let’s push it forward another five years! It might take a bit longer this time, so I’ll help with lunch while we wait.”
“Eh? You’d help us?”
Athos asked.
“Of course. By the way, what were you planning to make?”
“We had chicken, so perhaps chicken steak.”
“Then how about chicken steak with oume sauce?”
““““““Oume sauce?””””””
“Yep, you use salted oume.”
“… Joan, I’m not great with salted oume.”
Belle admitted, looking guilty.
“Then let’s make an alternate sauce too, for those who don’t like it!”
“First, may I taste the salted oume?”
“Of course. Just a moment.”
Athos went off to fetch it.
“… Young Lady Joan, you can eat salted oume?”
Aramis asked as soon as Athos left.
“Eh? Yeah, of course. Wait—don’t tell me you all dislike it?”
“W-well, it’s not inedible, but…”
Porthos scratched his head.
“It’s just too salty and sour, y’know? I can’t handle it.”
D’Artagnan admitted, Kitty nodding in agreement.
“The head chef makes it every year though… But in sauce, won’t it just taste sour?”
“Hmm, depends how it’s made. Let’s taste it first.”
Athos returned carefully carrying a jar—likely the salted oume.
What do you think about this chapter?
