Chapter 89.4
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
「How’s that meat?」
「It feels weird」
「It’s call “oil dregs”, which was what’s left over after the oil is squeezed out of the meat.」
「Heh, I didn’t know dregs could taste so good.」
「I know right! That meat is also made by the Schenker….」
The middle-aged man next to me was still talking about something but……I was already completely absorbed in the udon.
After taking a bite, I could no longer keep my hand off the bowl of udon.
This udon has a mysterious magic power.
It was too frustrating to scoop it up with a fork so boldly shoveled the udon into my mouth.
It is scalding hot but irresistibly delicious…..!
The udon, oil dregs, and soup mix in my mouth, and the complex texture and aroma make my heart flutter.
The soup envelopes everything, and the oil dreg competes with the noodles as if to say that “I’m the star”.
The noodles are slippery and firm and they delight me until the moment they pass down my throat.
Udon noodles, this is an art made in a bowl.
I love the noodles, the soup, the ingredients, the lady who made it, the middle aged man who recommended it, everything.
Udon is….the best thing ever!
「It was delicious～」
I said so in front of the empty bowl. Not even a drop of soup is left in it.
「I love the way you eat. It’s nice to be young.」
「No, it’s because udon is so delicious.」
「Do you like it?」
「Of course」
「The Schenker family that he was talking about. There is a young woman who runs an udon stall……her udon has no soup and you eat it with a salty black sauce.」
「No soup? I can’t imagine.」
Can it still be called an udon if it doesn’t have soup?
「Udon is deep～ pepperoncino is deep too～」
「Hey, are there any other good udon restaurants in the city?」
「Of course. After all, this is Torquiva, the birthplace of noodles, and there are many famous udon restaurants here.」
My right hand naturally opened a notepad while the middle aged man said that with a proud look on his face.
「Can you tell me about it? I want to eat more udon?」
「Eh? Ah, okay」
I glanced at the notepad and saw that it was filled with gossip and information about people that I had accumulated over the years.
This is the bard’s lifeblood, the treasure of his livelihood, the very song I write.
I drew a horizontal line across the end of the treasure and wrote “udon” below it in big characters.
It was the moment I found what I wanted to sing, something I had not been able to find for a long time.
-0-
The next day, and the day after that, I went to every udon shop in Torquiva.
I was amazed at the variety of udon, whether deep fried on top, grilled, or even fried udon itself. The variety of udon was astounding and a daily treat for my taste buds.
I wasn’t just paying attention to the udon I’m eating. I turned my attention to the chefs who made them, the supreme work of art.
Udon has no history but the chefs have a history of their own.
Whether they started their business as housewives, changed jobs from the military, inherited from their parents, and rose from slavery.
I decided to collect all of that history and compile it into a song.
The stories of the chef’s lives were different from the tales of adventures and gossip about love lives that I had collected up to that point. Although they might look simple, they were deep and meaningful.
I was so absorbed in the story that I soon became more knowledgeable about the udon situation in Torquiva than anyone else.
-0-
The bar is almost always full on weekends.
Men and women were happily drinking together, not paying attention to me who’s carrying my instrument.
I was in a corner of the first bar I had ever entered in Torquiva.
I took my four stringed mechanical harp from its case and sat down on a crappy wooden chair.
I pressed the button and slowly turned the handle, causing the wheels of the mechanical harp to rub against the strings and produce a sound.
Some of the drunken patrons glanced at me and then removed their glances.
「Forced march to the far north～♪ Rielo set out on a journey with her companions～♪ Black water was found in the north～♪ black water made from beans～♪」
I don’t know if udon songs will be popular or not.
It’s a path I’ve found so no one knows what the future brings.
「To protect the lord’s life～♪ They risk their lives on the road～♪ Following the red train tracks～♪ Covered in sand for ten days～♪」
The only thing I can say is that I’m singing what I really love right now, the way I want to sing it.
I wonder what the girl who broke up with me would think, will she say something ridiculous….
Or will she laugh at me with her dimpled smile?
I heard the sound of coins falling into the instrument case.
In the song, the Schenker merchants had just met a pack of centaurs.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
「How’s that meat?」
「It feels weird」
「It’s call “oil dregs”, which was what’s left over after the oil is squeezed out of the meat.」
「Heh, I didn’t know dregs could taste so good.」
「I know right! That meat is also made by the Schenker….」
The middle-aged man next to me was still talking about something but……I was already completely absorbed in the udon.
After taking a bite, I could no longer keep my hand off the bowl of udon.
This udon has a mysterious magic power.
It was too frustrating to scoop it up with a fork so boldly shoveled the udon into my mouth.
It is scalding hot but irresistibly delicious…..!
The udon, oil dregs, and soup mix in my mouth, and the complex texture and aroma make my heart flutter.
The soup envelopes everything, and the oil dreg competes with the noodles as if to say that “I’m the star”.
The noodles are slippery and firm and they delight me until the moment they pass down my throat.
Udon noodles, this is an art made in a bowl.
I love the noodles, the soup, the ingredients, the lady who made it, the middle aged man who recommended it, everything.
Udon is….the best thing ever!
「It was delicious～」
I said so in front of the empty bowl. Not even a drop of soup is left in it.
「I love the way you eat. It’s nice to be young.」
「No, it’s because udon is so delicious.」
「Do you like it?」
「Of course」
「The Schenker family that he was talking about. There is a young woman who runs an udon stall……her udon has no soup and you eat it with a salty black sauce.」
「No soup? I can’t imagine.」
Can it still be called an udon if it doesn’t have soup?
「Udon is deep～ pepperoncino is deep too～」
「Hey, are there any other good udon restaurants in the city?」
「Of course. After all, this is Torquiva, the birthplace of noodles, and there are many famous udon restaurants here.」
My right hand naturally opened a notepad while the middle aged man said that with a proud look on his face.
「Can you tell me about it? I want to eat more udon?」
「Eh? Ah, okay」
I glanced at the notepad and saw that it was filled with gossip and information about people that I had accumulated over the years.
This is the bard’s lifeblood, the treasure of his livelihood, the very song I write.
I drew a horizontal line across the end of the treasure and wrote “udon” below it in big characters.
It was the moment I found what I wanted to sing, something I had not been able to find for a long time.
-0-
The next day, and the day after that, I went to every udon shop in Torquiva.
I was amazed at the variety of udon, whether deep fried on top, grilled, or even fried udon itself. The variety of udon was astounding and a daily treat for my taste buds.
I wasn’t just paying attention to the udon I’m eating. I turned my attention to the chefs who made them, the supreme work of art.
Udon has no history but the chefs have a history of their own.
Whether they started their business as housewives, changed jobs from the military, inherited from their parents, and rose from slavery.
I decided to collect all of that history and compile it into a song.
The stories of the chef’s lives were different from the tales of adventures and gossip about love lives that I had collected up to that point. Although they might look simple, they were deep and meaningful.
I was so absorbed in the story that I soon became more knowledgeable about the udon situation in Torquiva than anyone else.
-0-
The bar is almost always full on weekends.
Men and women were happily drinking together, not paying attention to me who’s carrying my instrument.
I was in a corner of the first bar I had ever entered in Torquiva.
I took my four stringed mechanical harp from its case and sat down on a crappy wooden chair.
I pressed the button and slowly turned the handle, causing the wheels of the mechanical harp to rub against the strings and produce a sound.
Some of the drunken patrons glanced at me and then removed their glances.
「Forced march to the far north～♪ Rielo set out on a journey with her companions～♪ Black water was found in the north～♪ black water made from beans～♪」
I don’t know if udon songs will be popular or not.
It’s a path I’ve found so no one knows what the future brings.
「To protect the lord’s life～♪ They risk their lives on the road～♪ Following the red train tracks～♪ Covered in sand for ten days～♪」
The only thing I can say is that I’m singing what I really love right now, the way I want to sing it.
I wonder what the girl who broke up with me would think, will she say something ridiculous….
Or will she laugh at me with her dimpled smile?
I heard the sound of coins falling into the instrument case.
In the song, the Schenker merchants had just met a pack of centaurs.
How's that meat?It feels weirdIt's call oil dregs, which was what's left over after the oil is squeezed out of the meat.Heh, I didn't know dregs could taste so good.I know right! That meat is also made by the Schenker.The middle-aged man next to me was still talking about something butI was already completely absorbed in the udon.After taking a bite, I could no longer keep my hand off the bowl of udon.This udon has a mysterious magic power.It was too frustrating to scoop it up with a fork so boldly shoveled the udon into my mouth.It is scalding hot but irresistibly delicious..!The udon, oil dregs, and soup mix in my mouth, and the complex texture and aroma make my heart flutter.The soup envelopes everything, and the oil dreg competes with the noodles as if to say that I'm the star.The noodles are slippery and firm and they delight me until the moment they pass down my throat.Udon noodles, this is an art made in a bowl.I love the noodles, the soup, the ingredients, the lady who made it, the middle aged man who recommended it, everything.Udon is.the best thing ever!It was deliciousI said so in front of the empty bowl. Not even a drop of soup is left in it.I love the way you eat. It's nice to be young.No, it's because udon is so delicious.Do you like it?Of courseThe Schenker family that he was talking about. There is a young woman who runs an udon stallher udon has no soup and you eat it with a salty black sauce.No soup? I can't imagine.Can it still be called an udon if it doesn't have soup?Udon is deep pepperoncino is deep tooHey, are there any other good udon restaurants in the city?Of course. After all, this is Torquiva, the birthplace of noodles, and there are many famous udon restaurants here.My right hand naturally opened a notepad while the middle aged man said that with a proud look on his face.Can you tell me about it? I want to eat more udon?Eh? Ah, okayI glanced at the notepad and saw that it was filled with gossip and information about people that I had accumulated over the years.This is the bard's lifeblood, the treasure of his livelihood, the very song I write.I drew a horizontal line across the end of the treasure and wrote udon below it in big characters.It was the moment I found what I wanted to sing, something I had not been able to find for a long time.-0-The next day, and the day after that, I went to every udon shop in Torquiva.I was amazed at the variety of udon, whether deep fried on top, grilled, or even fried udon itself. The variety of udon was astounding and a daily treat for my taste buds.I wasn't just paying attention to the udon I'm eating. I turned my attention to the chefs who made them, the supreme work of art.Udon has no history but the chefs have a history of their own.Whether they started their business as housewives, changed jobs from the military, inherited from their parents, and rose from slavery.I decided to collect all of that history and compile it into a song.The stories of the chef's lives were different from the tales of adventures and gossip about love lives that I had collected up to that point. Although they might look simple, they were deep and meaningful.I was so absorbed in the story that I soon became more knowledgeable about the udon situation in Torquiva than anyone else.-0-The bar is almost always full on weekends.Men and women were happily drinking together, not paying attention to me who's carrying my instrument.I was in a corner of the first bar I had ever entered in Torquiva.I took my four stringed mechanical harp from its case and sat down on a crappy wooden chair.I pressed the button and slowly turned the handle, causing the wheels of the mechanical harp to rub against the strings and produce a sound.Some of the drunken patrons glanced at me and then removed their glances.Forced march to the far northRielo set out on a journey with her companionsBlack water was found in the northblack water made from beansI don't know if udon songs will be popular or not.It's a path I've found so no one knows what the future brings.To protect the lord's lifeThey risk their lives on the roadFollowing the red train tracksCovered in sand for ten daysThe only thing I can say is that I'm singing what I really love right now, the way I want to sing it.I wonder what the girl who broke up with me would think, will she say something ridiculous.Or will she laugh at me with her dimpled smile?I heard the sound of coins falling into the instrument case.In the song, the Schenker merchants had just met a pack of centaurs.
