Chapter 14: Erina's Degeneration
"You have to take advantage of it, old man!" Saitama's voice rang out, filled with the urgent wisdom of a man who knew the value of a rare sale at the supermarket.
Ren glanced at the bald hero, his eyes curling slightly in amusement as he dried his hands on a pristine white cloth. "You talk too much, Saitama. Just eat your Stir-fried Potato and Eggplant before it gets cold."
"But it's true!" Saitama protested, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of savory potatoes. "The last time you were in a mood this good, we got that premium curry!"
Ren didn't deny it. He simply hummed, the ghost of a relaxed smile playing on his lips. The atmosphere in the shop was indeed lighter today, a comfortable warmth that seemed to irritate the young girl sitting opposite Senzaemon.
Nakiri Erina felt completely sidelined. She was the God Tongue, the heiress of the Nakiri family, yet these two commoners and her grandfather were speaking in riddles, ignoring her presence entirely. The feeling of being an outsider in a culinary conversation was foreign to her, and she despised it.
"Are you quite done chatting?" Erina interrupted, her voice cold and dripping with disdain. She flipped her honey-blonde hair over her shoulder, her violet eyes narrowing at Ren. "Grandfather praised you to the heavens, yet you leave customers waiting while you gossip about moods? Unbelievable."
She tapped the wooden table with a perfectly manicured finger, the sound sharp in the cozy restaurant. "Hey, you. Since you're supposedly in such a 'good mood', stop wasting my time. Bring me the menu. Now."
Ren looked at her. He didn't get angry at the interruption. Instead, he smiled at the blatant arrogance of the Nakiri heiress. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a way that was neither mocking nor intimidated. It was the indulgent smile one might give a kitten trying to roar. He shook his head slightly, the movement causing his silver hair to catch the warm light of the restaurant, as if dealing with a willful child who didn't know the stove was hot.
Saitama, sensing the shift in atmosphere, wisely chose to say nothing more. He knew better than to get involved in "rich people drama." It was far too troublesome, and he had a plate of steaming, glossy vegetables in front of him. He lowered his head, focusing entirely on the simple joy of the earthy stir-fry, his polished bald head reflecting the amber glow of the pendant lights above like a miniature sun.
Senzaemon Nakiri sat across from them, his arms folded into the sleeves of his kimono. He thought for a moment, considering whether to mediate the brewing storm between his spirited granddaughter and the enigmatic chef. Ultimately, he decided against it. Erina's shell was too hard; words alone wouldn't crack it. This was a lesson she needed to learn firsthand, through the only language she respected: taste.
Just as he was about to speak to distract her, Nakiri Erina's sharp voice cut through the air again, her patience snapping at Ren's lack of movement.
"Did you hear me?" Erina demanded, glancing around the walls. "You don't even have a menu here? What kind of establishment is this?"
Ren nodded calmly, picking up a crystal glass and beginning to polish it with rhythmic, hypnotic motions. "That's right. I don't."
Erina gritted her teeth, the sound audible in the quiet shop. Her patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Then how do you expect customers to order?! Do we just guess what ingredients you happen to have in the fridge today? Is this some sort of pretentiousness?"
Ren placed the glass down, the crystal chiming softly against the wood. He tilted his head, looking at her with an infuriatingly calm expression.
"Is it strange?" he asked softly. "Here, I can make whatever you want to eat. The menu is your imagination. If you crave it, I create it."
Nakiri Erina snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, emphasizing her posture of dominance. "Arrogant," she muttered under her breath, though she intended for him to hear it. She leaned back, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You claim you can make anything, right?"
"Mm. That's right."
A heavy silence stretched between them. Erina drummed her fingers on the table. After a slight pause for thought, a malicious, predatory glint appeared in her eyes. She had found the trap. If this commoner chef wanted to play the 'anything' game, she would crush him with the weight of high society. She decided to test him with ingredients that a small, hole-in-the-wall shop in a back alley would never possess—ingredients that required specific supply chains, immense capital, and immediate freshness.
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a silky, challenging purr. She said with a playful, predatory smile, "Then I'll have Bluefin Tuna Sashimi—specifically the Otoro, the fattiest belly cut. And for the main course, a Seven-minute-cooked Wagyu Beef Steak. It must be A5 Grade. Make sure the searing is perfect; I won't tolerate a gray crust."
Senzaemon Nakiri merely smiled and shook his head when he heard these two items. He took a sip of his water, hiding his amusement.
Oh, Erina, he thought, watching her confident expression. Your culinary thinking is completely wrong for this place. You think high-end ingredients are the barrier? You think gold and diamonds are what makes a chef? You are about to learn a lesson that money cannot buy.
Ren didn't flinch. He didn't pale. He didn't check his inventory list in a panic. He simply nodded without batting an eye, as if she had asked for a glass of water.
"Hmm, then do you need drinks and desserts to go with that?"
Erina froze. She had originally expected to see Ren look shocked and flustered. She expected him to stammer, apologize, bow his head, and admit that he didn't have such high-end, perishable ingredients on hand in this desolate shop. Then she would mock him for overestimating himself, lecture him on the logistics of fine dining, and leave in triumph.
But now...
His face was calm. Bored, even. It was the face of a man who had been asked to boil an egg.
It seemed he had both of these things here!
Erina felt a flash of irrational irritation. The script wasn't being followed. She said in a deep voice, emphasizing every word, "Did you hear me clearly? What I want is A5 Wagyu and Otoro. Do you understand the cost?"
"Just Bluefin Tuna and Wagyu Beef~" Ren interrupted casually, waving his hand as if swatting away a fly. "They're not considered precious here. I have plenty in the back. I use the Wagyu for stew sometimes."
He turned away from the stunned girl to address the older man. "It seems the young lady has already ordered. Old man, what do you want to eat?"
Erina was left with her mouth slightly open, her composure cracking. Not considered precious?! Used for stew?! Is he insane? Or is he lying?
Senzaemon Nakiri thought for a moment, rubbing his chin through his beard. "It's rare for you to be in a good mood, so there must be Eggplant Stuffed with Meat (Hasami Age), right! That will be the side dish. For the main dishes, let's have Salt-Grilled Pork and Sukiyaki! And give me a pot of Peach Blossom Wine! I'm in a good mood today~ Hahaha!"
Ren smiled, a genuine warmth reaching his eyes. "Okay. I already knew you'd say that, so I've been preparing the filling in advance. The pork is marinating."
He turned to the quiet girl sitting next to Erina, who had been trying to make herself invisible during the confrontation. "So this is... Miss Arato, right? What would you like to eat?"
Hisako Arato was startled. She jumped slightly in her seat. She looked at Erina, checking for permission, then back at Ren. She thought for a moment, her voice small. "Um... just Bonito Chazuke (Ochazuke)... and also Pan-fried Oysters if you have them..."
Ren was surprised, then smiled approvingly. "A very nutritious way to eat. High in protein, minerals, and the chazuke is excellent for digestion. I can tell you usually pay close attention to your health. A good aide."
Hisako blushed, bowing her head.
Ren glanced at the bald hero at the counter. "Saitama? You're staring. Do you want stuffed eggplant too?"
Saitama looked up, his mouth full of potatoes and green peppers. "Eh? Ren, you're willing to make stuffed eggplant now? Please give me a portion! Last time you said it was too much work to slice them all!"
"OK~ One order for the hero. On the house."
Ren was about to turn and leave when Erina spoke up again, her voice tight with a mixture of indignation and FOMO (fear of missing out). She felt left out of the "special menu" that everyone else seemed to know about.
"That... what was it... stuffed eggplant?" Erina demanded, trying to sound authoritative rather than petulant. "Give Hisako and me a portion too! I want to see what makes Grandfather so excited about common vegetables. It better not be greasy."
"Okay~"
After Ren finished speaking, he turned and walked into the kitchen, the noren curtains swaying behind him.
Erina looked at Ren's back, her face full of displeasure. "He didn't even write it down. Does he have a photographic memory, or is he just careless?"
Senzaemon Nakiri smiled, pouring himself more water. "Erina, you seem to have a very bad impression of this Ren? Is it because he didn't kowtow to your title?"
Erina said in a deep voice, tossing her hair back. "Of course! How could such an amazing chef appear in a place like this? A Restaurant without even a menu actually claims to have Bluefin Tuna and Wagyu Beef on standby? Grandpa, don't you think he's boasting?! He probably buys cheap cuts from the supermarket and passes them off as premium! I will expose him the moment the plate touches the table."
Senzaemon Nakiri laughed softly, a deep rumble in his chest. "Of course not. Because this kid's Restaurant... can be said to have all kinds of ingredients. And he just doesn't like crowds or fame. If this kid were to go out and compete with those chefs in Paris or Tokyo, the culinary world would experience a huge earthquake! He is a sleeping dragon, Erina. And you just poked him."
Nakiri Erina's pupils contracted.
A dragon? Grandfather never praised anyone like that. Not even Eishi Tsukasa, the First Seat. Not even the alumni like Gin Dojima. What kind of evaluation was that!
Saitama also looked at Erina blankly, chewing on a pepper. Then he said to Senzaemon Nakiri, pointing his chopsticks casually at Erina, "Old man, this is your first time bringing your granddaughter, right? She really is very different from your personality. You're cool. She's... intense. Kind of scary."
Senzaemon Nakiri smiled and said, "That's why I brought this girl here to learn properly! To break that shell and show her the world is bigger than Totsuki."
Nakiri Erina didn't say a word the entire time, fuming silently. Intense? Scary? I am the God Tongue!
Sizzle.
A sound of something frying rang out from the open kitchen. It was the sharp, violent hiss of food hitting hot oil.
Then, it hit them.
The entire Restaurant was instantly enveloped in a burst of aroma. It wasn't a subtle creeper; it was an explosion. It was savory, rich, and deeply comforting. It smelled of caramelized meat, fried batter, the earthiness of eggplant, and a distinct hint of ginger and scallions.
Erina's eyes widened, looking disbelieving. Her nostrils flared.
She hadn't even tasted, or even seen, this dish yet. But her God Tongue was reacting. Her mouth began to water involuntarily, a physiological response she couldn't control. Her tongue was already subconsciously analyzing the scent molecules in the air, telling her what kind of impactful deliciousness this dish would bring her.
This scent... the oil temperature is perfect. There's no smell of burnt fat. The meat... pork and beef blend? No, something else... shrimp? It's complex.
Senzaemon Nakiri looked at Erina's shocked expression and secretly smiled.
Erina's culinary philosophy was twisted by her upbringing under Azami. She believed only expensive meant good, only complexity meant worth. He wanted to use the dishes of this Restaurant—Ren's dishes—to completely crush Erina's pride and rebuild her erroneous culinary concepts from the ground up.
"Mm. So fragrant. Ren's dishes are always so anticipated."
Saitama commented while eating his stir-fry. He was also a regular customer who knew the score. For him, the dishes here were the most delicious he had ever eaten, and the cheapest (often free), so he would come to eat whenever he had free time from saving the world with one punch.
Ren walked out carrying a large wooden tray. The steam rising from it blurred the air.
"Here's the Stuffed Eggplant (Hasami Age), old man, and your Peach Blossom Wine. You two ladies didn't order drinks, so try this Freshly Squeezed Melon Juice~ It's on the house. Cleanses the palate."
He placed the golden-brown discs on the table. The batter was light and airy, not thick or heavy. The eggplant peeked through, purple skin glistening.
After placing the plates down, Ren shouted upstairs, his voice carrying easily to the second floor.
"Come down and eat! Dinner's ready!"
Senzaemon Nakiri was startled. He looked at the ceiling.
What was that?
Kobayashi Rindou was here too? She was staying over again? She was too idle! Or had she finally moved in?
"Coming!"
A female voice shouted back. It was elegant, slightly imperious, yet eager.
But...
Senzaemon Nakiri was dumbfounded on the spot.
That voice was definitely not Kobayashi Rindou. Rindou's voice was wilder, cat-like. This voice was cooler, deeper.
Who is it? Another woman?
However, this was Ren's private life, and Senzaemon knew better than to inquire. He had his own harem of secrets to keep regarding the culinary world.
He turned his attention to the food. He picked up his chopsticks and skillfully cut open the golden-brown stuffed eggplant in front of him.
Crunch.
The sound of the crispy batter breaking was audible, a sharp snap that echoed. The steam escaped from the cut, and the meat-fragrant filling instantly conquered everyone present. It was a wave of umami.
"Oh! This time it's beef!" Senzaemon exclaimed, peering inside. "He's really in a good mood! Usually, it's pork!"
Erina swallowed hard, looking at this commoner dish she had never seen before on her dining table. Fried food? Greasy? It should be disgusting. But why did it look like gold?
Just as she was about to critique the plating (or lack thereof), she saw Senzaemon Nakiri put half of the stuffed eggplant into his mouth.
Crunch. Chew.
The Food's Demon King froze. His eyes rolled back slightly. His body stiffened.
RIP!
His upper kimono instantly burst apart, shreds of fabric fluttering in the air like cherry blossoms in a storm. His muscular chest was bared to the cool air of the restaurant.
"Kyaa!" Hisako yelped, covering her eyes with her hands (but peeking through her fingers).
Erina was dumbfounded. Her jaw dropped.
This was just a side dish to go with wine! And a commoner dish! How could his clothes burst less than a second after putting it in his mouth? It was too absurd! Even her dishes usually took a few bites to strip him! This reaction... it was instant surrender!
Senzaemon Nakiri simply remained shirtless, revealing his physique. He sat there, not bothering to put his clothes back on, completely lost in the aftertaste. "Delicious... The juices... they explode..."
Saitama smiled and said, "The old man's clothes bursting always looks so impressive~ It's like a special effect in an anime."
"Hahaha! This old man is not too old yet! Ren's cooking reinvigorates the spirit! It makes the blood boil!"
Erina swallowed, staring at the stuffed eggplant in front of her plate. It looked innocent. Golden. Hot. It sat there, taunting her.
After staring for a long time, Hisako was the first to break the stalemate. She couldn't resist the smell any longer. She picked up a dining knife and cut a piece.
She blew on it gently to cool it down and put it in her mouth.
Then her eyes suddenly widened, a look of disbelief on her face.
Erina was about to ask "How is it?" when she saw Hisako react.
Hisako immediately began to tremble. Her face flushed a deep, arousal-like red. Her legs pressed together under the table, her knees knocking.
"Haa... Nnnh..."
After a long while, she finally opened her mouth to exhale a hot breath. Then, disregarding her usual strict etiquette, she eagerly ate the remaining half, stuffing her cheeks.
"Delicious! Erina-sama, you must try this! It's... it's incredible! The eggplant melts, and the meat is so savory!"
Erina looked at Senzaemon Nakiri and Hisako's expressions of pure, unadulterated enjoyment. She swallowed. Her throat felt dry.
Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her knife to make a cut.
Slice.
Steam, at a bearable temperature, puffed out along the incision and onto Erina's hand. It carried the scent of ginger, scallions, and premium beef fat.
A few drops of juice ran down, the filling perfectly intact, the cut surface as smooth and beautiful as sliced jade, with distinct layers of eggplant and meat.
The meat filling was clearly textured, promising a perfect mouthfeel—not mushy, but bouncy.
Erina licked her lips; she was actually interested in a common appetizer! Her God Tongue was demanding it. It was screaming at her to taste it.
Erina picked up the eggplant fritter with her fork. She hesitated for one second, looking at the golden crust. Then she slowly put it into her mouth.
Crunch.
The batter shattered like fine glass. The eggplant melted into cream. The meat exploded with flavor.
"Nnn..."
The next moment, Erina immediately slumped onto the table. Her strength left her body.
Her face flushed atomic red. Her legs restlessly rubbed against each other under the table. Her toes curled in her shoes.
Her hand, holding the fork, gripped tightly, her small, jade-like hand now looking full of desperate strength.
What is this?!
Erina seemed to see a vision. She saw herds of high-quality cattle drinking meat juice from a river of umami, surrounded by giant, soft eggplants. The cows were massaging the eggplants.
The entire world was misty with a rich, fragrant heat. It was a sauna of flavor.
Erina felt herself flying on clouds, with eggplant fritters floating in the sky like UFOs.
She lay on a giant eggplant fritter, slowly being carried by the fragrant breeze, drifting in this delicious world. It was pure bliss. It was degeneration. It was the collapse of her culinary aristocracy.
"It seems to be to everyone's taste," Ren's voice cut through her hallucination.
He returned with a large tray, moving efficiently.
"Then, Old Man, here is your Sukiyaki, Salt-Grilled Pork Chop, and Rice. For the Sukiyaki, you can control the flame yourself with this portable stove."
After speaking, Ren didn't wait for Erina and Hisako to recover from their foodgasm before returning to the kitchen to bring out their main dishes as well.
He placed the Bluefin Tuna Sashimi and Wagyu Steak in front of Erina. The tuna was a deep, rich ruby, glistening with fat. The Wagyu was seared to perfection, the marbling rendered into liquid gold within the meat.
"Then, everyone's dishes are complete..."
Just as Ren finished speaking, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Click, click, click.
Lucifer stretched, walking down in a casual outfit that somehow still looked regal—a white blouse and black trousers. She rubbed her eyes, looking like she just woke up from a nap.
She said to Ren, ignoring the frozen guests at the table, "So, is there anything to eat? I'm starving. Reading takes a lot of energy."
"You can have some eggplant fritters first. They're fresh."
Ren pointed to a plate he had set aside on the counter. "I'll go prepare something for you. Pancakes again? Or do you want savory?"
"Mmm~ Yes please! Pancakes! With extra syrup!"
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