I don’t know what, but it definitely counted as something. After that whole—incident, the queen had given everyone time to explore the castle. Most of them probably did it twice by now. Me? I returned to bed. Injured, sore, and already running low on patience.
The whole cook fest that the queen requested? That was being handled by Arthur’s teacher, Kaname. She assigned who would cook what, entirely at random. The event itself was supposed to start tonight, giving everyone who intended to participate time to prepare.
Last night, Shun, Hanzo, and Yuu, along with Arthur and co.—showed up to ask for advice.
“Why are you people asking me?” I asked, confused.
“Same reason as before,” Shun said unapologetically.
Right. Of course. That made sense in this world. Considering it was that or having to listen to her again. It was a no brainer on what I chose to do.
We put our heads together. Shun was cooking for breakfast, so we decided on a menu of tamagoyaki or rolled egg omelette, fake fried rice using the “briarheads” as the locals called them, and some sausages.
Hanzo was assigned dinner, so he’d handle katsu—both pork and chicken—along with grilled vegetables. He needed to tweak the sauce a bit, though, which was why he came to me as well.
Yuu’s shift was also for dinner which was a bit of a challenge. I thought for a bit before we asked the queen if he could collaborate with someone—and fortunately, she said yes. So, I made him pair up with Taka. Together, they were going to make udon. Or, rather, “simple” udon, with the broth of peanut butter and chili oil.
The natives called peanut butter or something resembling it, “nut paste.” Yeah. Love me some nut paste. Add some nut paste to the broth. Slurp your nut paste sauce today.
I love it. It was weird and hilarious. Arthur, and Trayn seemed to think so, cackling while I narrated that like a 1950s sales person. My parents, not so much.
When the trio told the other participants, especially the girls, the reactions were something else. Outrage, primarily.
Two reasons. They didn’t think collabs were allowed. Without the usual ingredients like miso, seafood, tofu, or other staples of Japanese cooking, their options felt ridiculously limited.
The worst part? This was the perk of going first. They’d get a free pass while everyone else was scrambling to make something that is not entirely too similar. I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, and watched the chaos start to bubble. Yep. This was going to be entertaining. I thought to myself.
Unfortunately, my advice apparently made me the center of it. Again.
Because why just be the accidentally summoned dude when you can be the guy everyone complains to before they even touch the stove?
How you ask? Because the Three Ai’s showed up next.
That started another round of thinking. At first, I flat-out refused to help. I was injured, exhausted, and already regretting every choice that led me to here.
But Reika—being Reika—was still sore that Nana baa?san had vetoed her application to join. So, she kept insisting. Casually. Persistently. Like waterboarding with a smile. They were incredibly annoying.
So, to make them stop complaining, I helped.
Their menu ended up being Grilled Herb Honey Chicken with Roasted Squash or what passed for squash in this world. Fake Curry Rice, which was thick, mildish curry with vegetables and thickened with what was flour and nut paste for sweetness, served over fake rice.
And the last was stuffed sweet leaves, wrapped around lightly seasoned chicken and mixed roasted nuts with mashed vegetable filling. It was essentially like a spring roll. The sauces ranged from sweet as honey to spicy vinegar. It was safe. It was impressive.
But most importantly, it would shut them up.
Yeah. It didn’t. Because not to be outdone, Suzu, Karin, and Akane showed up next.
I stared at them, felt my eye twitch, and very seriously considered faking a relapse so I could be wheeled back to bed and left alone. Permanently.
Normally I would be slightly happy to help. But there was one factor that got me on edge. Her.
The voice. All this time, she had been retorting about my conduct. About my—quote unquote—sarcastic nature. About my attitude. My tone. My life choices. The only thing she hadn’t retorted on was my existence.
<
I clenched my jaw.
Yeah. Thanks. Real helpful.
Because apparently, in this world, if you show even basic competence, the natural consequence is that people will line up to drain your soul, one “Hey, can you help us real quick?” at a time.
With a tired and weary mind—one foot firmly on the edge of cracking from people talking and a skill that would not stop retorting—I helped them anyway. By the time night fell, my patience was threadbare and my body felt like it had been dragged through gravel, but somehow, I managed to survive it.
Morning came sooner than it should have.
I woke up earlier because my brother woke me up. Out of habit, I flexed my limbs, bracing for pain. Surprisingly, they held. Not perfectly, my right side still protested—but it was noticeably better than yesterday. That alone felt like a small win but I’ll take it.
Breakfast passed with more tension than food.
Shun served his dishes—tamagoyaki, the improvised fried rice using briarheads, and sausages. It’s not traditional and I oversaw how he cooked it, occasionally giving tips on the seasoning as well as the sauce. The queen took a bite of the tamagoyaki, paused, and then smiled. That was all it took.
On the spot, she awarded Shun a gold coin.
The coin caught the morning light as Shun’s observed it on his palm. On one side was the face of a man carved with authority. On the other, the emblem of the kingdom, two lions standing upright, flanking a six?pointed flower.
Shun raised the coin up looking at it with a wide smile on his face. At least one of us was happy. Captain Aldric explained that the face belonged to Loreval Theoderic Vollen, the founder of the kingdom.
A year’s wage. For eggs.
If this was how easily the queen rewarded effort, then the rest of this cook fest was going to escalate fast. I could already see it in their eyes—the excitement, the greed, the pressure. People weren’t just cooking anymore. They were competing.
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Fortunately, today wasn’t even about cooking. Today was supposed to be educational.
After breakfast, we would be attending a lecture—delivered by the crazy mage, Celestia—about skills and the system itself. Even though I wasn’t technically a hero, attendance wasn’t optional. Apparently, existing within proximity of summoned idiots made me adjacent enough to qualify.
I didn’t complain. Truth was, I was interested.
This was a chance to finally learn what kind of system we had been dropped into. How rigid it was. How forgiving. Whether it followed logic—or just wore it like a costume. And more importantly, whether it could be bent.
<
I ignored her of course.
Immediately after breakfast, a maid led us down a quiet corridor to one of the side passages, apparently adjacent to the archives—what we would’ve called a library back on Earth. The others filed in without hesitation.
Instead of following them, I doubled back to our room and grabbed something I had forgotten. When I returned and pushed the door open, the crazy mage was already there. She was in front of what is like the fusion of a desk and a podium and was practically radiating enthusiasm.
“A pleasant morning to you, Lord Vi,” Celestia said brightly, hands clasped as if this were the highlight of her day. “Please, sit where you are comfortable while the servants collect my materials.”
I nodded in response, neither encouraging nor discouraging her cheer.
From the corner of the room, I could feel it—Reika’s gaze, sharp and unblinking, drilling into the side of my head. I ignored it with the practiced ease of someone who had been doing that his whole life.
The room itself resembled an old-school college lecture hall. Tiered seating rose steadily upward, each level higher than the last, curved just enough to focus attention toward the front.
And then I noticed the audience.
The king, queen and princess Charlotte, or that was the name they said to me, occupied the front row. The queen sat poised as ever, eyes observant. The king leaned slightly toward Princess Charlotte, who was currently being shown something on a phone by Shizuku and Reika. The king glanced over occasionally, curiosity obvious despite his attempts at restraint.
Arthur and the others waved when they spotted me, seated somewhere in the middle tiers. As I climbed higher, their expressions shifted—eyes narrowing in suspicion. In the upper levels sat our parents, clustered together. And right beside them, unmistakably, were my two solar chargers, being used.
“What’cha you got there?” Arthur asked as I approached, head tilted in confusion.
“For your information,” I said calmly, lifting the device slightly, “this is called a headset. A wireless headset, to be specific.”
I paused, then added, “What? Don’t you have these where you’re from?”
“Cheeky bastard,” he replied with a friendly swat at my shoulder. He was a bit miffed but I was going for that.
<
I inhaled slowly through my nose and continued walking.
“How did you even manage to bring that here?” Trayn asked, shaking his head, though he was grinning like this was the most entertaining mystery he’d seen all week.
“Just how many things did you bring?” my brother added, sounding both incredulous and resigned. Considering that he knew some of my tendencies that was expected.
I stopped near the edge and chose a window seat, sunlight spilling across it just right, and finally sat down.
“I’ll never tell,” I replied nonchalantly.
<
I ignored the retorts—mostly because, like yesterday, I noticed the queen staring. No. Not staring. Observing. The kind of look that was, weighing and measuring someone and quietly taking notes.
“So, Vi,” Arthur called out, loud enough for the room to hear, “when are you going to start talking to yourself again?”
A ripple of snickers followed.
I shifted in my seat, my right side slightly protesting, and hissed under my breath. Fantastic. There’s that then you also add being scrutinized by a suspicious monarch to the ever-growing list of problems I didn’t ask for. I sighed, half-considering whether checking my own status again was worth it.
<
“…You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” I whispered.
<
I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes again when I felt something smacked against my knee.
“Hey, weirdo!”
I looked down. The little princess stood there, grinning from ear to ear. Behind her stood a maid—young, composed, and striking in a quiet way. Green eyes, brown hair neatly tied into a bun. If I had to guess, she was the princess’s personal attendant.
“Hey, weirdo,” I replied without missing a beat.
The princess’s grin widened. The maid immediately moved to scold her—or tried to—but the princess only laughed and dashed back toward her parents, slipping into her seat as if nothing had happened.
The maid turned back to me and bowed deeply. “My lord, please forgive the young princess. She can be quite mischievous. Her name is—”
I waved a hand casually. “It’s fine. We’ve already been acquainted.”
Gwenoreth Auranelle of House Valecrest. Youngest daughter of the royal family. I glanced toward the front. The princess stuck out her tongue at me.
Naturally, being the older and far more mature person, I stuck out my tongue in return. She burst into laughter as I turned back to the maid. “See?”
A wry smile tugged at her lips. She explained that the princess introduced herself to everyone earlier. “Since you had stepped away, I thought to inform you for your benefit.”
She bowed again. “My name is Mina, from the town of Alessa. I have been newly appointed as caretaker to the princess.”
“Thanks for the warning then,” I replied. “Call me Vi.”
At that moment, four knights entered the room. Judging by their bearing, I guessed these were the captains everyone had been whispering about. They raised a hand in greeting, and Arthur and the rest returned it.
Behind them trailed at least six servants, arms laden with parchments, quills, and what looked suspiciously like black notebooks.
As the materials were distributed, Arthur and my brother took it upon themselves to formally introduce me. Captain Aldric. Captain Godwin. And the brother Captains, Gendry and Rondry.
I nodded to each in turn.
After confirming that everyone had what they needed, Celestia gestured to one of the servants. “Bring the inkwells as well.”
Which meant, that we still had time to kill.
<
I sighed quietly and leaned back as the room gradually slipped into conversation again. At some point, the four captains joined our group, and the group beside me immediately grew a level louder.
Captain Aldric was a bit stiff and composed, posture straight as a spear. The other three, however, were far more relaxed—quick to laugh, quick to comment, and clearly enjoying the rare break from formality.
I threw in a remark here and there, content to let the noise wash over me. Normally, I would’ve kept my mouth shut to avoid triggering the retort-a-tron again, but then I caught a piece of gossip that wasn’t even trying to be discreet.
“Oh yeah,” Arthur said loudly, far too loudly, “Trayn has a thing for the young princess’s maid.”
Trayn immediately turned a shade of red that had to be medically significant. “Arthur—shut up,” he hissed.
“Really?” Taka asked, clearly amused. “Wow, Trayn. Didn’t know.”
“Shut. Up,” Trayn repeated through gritted teeth.
Arthur, of course, wasn’t done. “Hey, if I were like six feet tall, I’d have made a move already. But alas—” he sighed dramatically, “—I am only an inch away from greatness.”
Trayn smiled thinly. “Oh, you mean your dick. That’s rough, buddy.”
The room exploded.
Even Arthur doubled over, shaking his head and laughing. By now, everyone’s attention had shifted to us—our parents included.
“Don’t worry, Trayn,” I said calmly, and he froze just enough to show he’d noticed. “We’ll be the best wingmen you’ll ever have. No, even better! Who needs a wingman when you’ve got a whole platoon?”
I cleared my throat, then I raised my voice slightly so the rest of the room could hear.
“Our friend Trayn is so tough, when he looks in the mirror, his own reflection flinches.”
Before Trayn could respond, Arthur jumped in without missing a beat. “My friend Trayn is so tough, doors open for him out of fear.”
Snickers spread. Fathers shook their heads. Trayn’s father, unfortunately for him, looked dangerously close to laughing.
Arthur continued, “He’s so tough, he can pee his name into concrete.”
The laughter grew louder. Trayn finally snapped, looped an arm around Arthur’s neck and clamped a hand over his mouth.
Which was my cue. “No, Trayn’s so tough, he can sand down a fence with his nipples.”
That earned me the other arm. Locked in a mutual chokehold, Arthur and I still managed a fist bump.
The room lost it.
The captains laughed openly, even Captain Aldric cracked. The king made no effort to restrain himself. The queen maintained a dignified smirk, which was probably the most she ever allowed herself. Celestia had collapsed forward unto her desk, face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking.
And the maid in question?
She remained standing, facing forward, very pointedly not turning around. Though her ears were bright red and her shoulders were trembling.
Yep. Best wingman platoon sergeant ever.
<