The Reincarnated Villainess Whose Romantic Trauma From Her Past Life Is Too Strong Is Sweetly and Painfully Doted On by the Prince of the Neighboring Country - Chapter 20

Cherie removed the kelp from the pot she had been heating over a low flame, then turned the heat to high. Once it reached a boil, she tossed in a generous handful of bonito flakes.

A blended dashi of kelp and bonito.

Since chemical seasonings didn’t exist here like they did in her previous life, making stock meant returning to the basics. After letting it simmer and develop a rich flavor, Cherie carefully strained the dashi, resulting in a beautiful, golden broth.

(I actually remember how to do this quite well.)

It had been so long since she’d cooked Japanese food that she worried she might have forgotten, but her body remembered. This was undoubtedly because the tasks Chieri had diligently repeated day after day in her past life were etched into her muscles. Her grandmother had taught her how to make dashi. Feeling a swell of joy that this knowledge remained rooted within her even after being reborn, Cherie quickly and skillfully finished the rest of the tasks, preparing fluffy tamagoyaki (rolled omelet) and miso soup.

—She lifted the lid of the pot to reveal glittering, white steamed rice.

The scent of nikujaga (meat and potato stew), perfectly soaked in flavor, wafted through the kitchen.

“…That looks delicious.”

Salute, standing right beside her, murmured as he peered into the pot. For some reason, he pressed close to her side, tilting his head as he stared at the finished dishes. To Cherie, he looked like a child admiring his mother’s cooking.

There was something strangely nostalgic about it. Rather than chiding him for the lack of personal space, Cherie simply accepted his presence in silence.

“In the end, I wasn’t able to help with anything.”

Hearing Salute sound so genuinely disappointed while clinging to her, Cherie thought, Did he really want to help that badly?

“In that case, Lord Salute, would you help me serve the food into the dishes?”

When she asked, he beamed. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Together, they began plating the meal. Naturally, Japanese tableware didn’t exist in this world, so there were no rice bowls or soup bowls. It was a bizarre sight. Serving rice into small salad bowls using a wooden spatula but Cherie was simply happy to see Japanese food before her eyes again.

“…Huh. So that’s how you plate it.”

Watching Salute observe her example with curiosity, a thought crossed Cherie’s mind.

(…So, Lord Salute really isn’t a reincarnated person after all.)

If he were, he would know how to serve rice and wouldn’t be looking at it with such wonder. Furthermore, she realized too late that she should have prepared chopsticks. If they had chopsticks, it would have felt much more like an authentic meal, and it would have been easier to tell if Salute was familiar with them. She had been so preoccupied with whether she could cook the food properly that the idea of chopsticks had completely slipped her mind.

—Though, she didn’t even know if chopsticks existed in this world to begin with.

As she felt a twinge of guilt—at least from a Japanese perspective—at the “bad manners” of poking at these dishes with a fork on Western plates, she quietly resolved to find proper tableware for next time.

Just then—

“………………It’s delicious.”

Salute, having taken a bite of the nikujaga, let out the words with an indescribable expression.

“…It’s really wonderful.”

“Truly? I’m just glad it suits your palate, Lord Salute.”

“…Yes. Cherie, you really are amazing at cooking.”

While speaking, Salute used his spoon and fork with incredible grace as if he were dining at a high-end French restaurant and finished the meal Cherie had prepared in no time at all.

“This white grain, it’s chewy and sweet when you bite into it. It’s delicious.”

“This is ‘rice’—an ingredient called rice.”

“And these potatoes and onions, the savory flavor has soaked in so well. I didn’t know this kind of cooking method existed.”

Watching him savor the rice and nikujaga between bites with such novelty, Cherie felt certain again that he wasn’t a reincarnated soul.

(—If he knew what it was, he wouldn’t be asking all these questions. I guess it really was just my imagination.)

Thinking this, Cherie allowed herself to enjoy the long-awaited Japanese food.

Warm, fluffy white rice.

Miso soup made with extravagant dashi.

Slow-cooked, flavor-packed nikujaga.

It was so nostalgic she could have cried. As she sat there savoring the happiness spreading through her mind, Salute, who had finished eating first, spoke to her.

“You know some very unusual recipes, Cherie.”

“…Actually, after that day at the shop, I looked up some Far Eastern recipes in a book.”

Cherie gave the answer she had prepared in advance to his smiling face. It was a bit of a stretch, but there really had been something resembling a Far Eastern cookbook in the shop they had visited. She figured if she claimed she had seen it there, he would be convinced.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to try other dishes. And I want to eat rice again.”

“Then, if I may trouble you with another visit, I shall treat you to a different menu next time.”

For Cherie, this was a dream come true. Under the grand justification of serving Salute, she would be able to eat Japanese food regularly. Having eaten it once, she found she wasn’t satisfied. She missed it even more. His proposal was a godsend.

“I’m glad. Let’s coordinate our schedules and make another day like today.”

When Salute suggested this with a bright smile, Cherie replied with a smile of her own, “Yes, I would love to.”

And in her heart, she made a firm vow.

—Before the next time, I will find chopsticks, a rice bowl, and a soup bowl.