Chapter 180. Cup Rice (4)
"Here you are. Mind it's hot."
"Oh, yes, yes!"
Gent, the young man who had been standing at the very front of the queue, reached out with trembling hands and took the paper cup.
The square, where a still-chilly spring breeze was blowing. The solid warmth transmitted through the cup in both hands thawed the frozen tips of Gent's fingers.
"Meat…… it really is meat."
Gent swallowed hard.
Word had it that they were giving out meat at this year's Birthday Banquet…….
But he hadn't expected it to be food this proper.
Even at a glance, it was clearly nothing like a thin soup that merely smelled vaguely of meat. When he scooped up a spoonful, a piece of meat soaked in a deep brown sauce came up together with the rice grains.
At least six generous chunks of meat that size.
Grrrumble!
Unable to hold back any longer, Gent scooped up a big spoonful of the rice bowl, blew on it gently, and took a large bite.
"……!"
Gent's eyes flew wide open.
There was no need to chew at all. Whatever this meat was, it dissolved the moment it touched his lips.
Between the tender fibres of meat that pulled apart along the grain, the savoury-sweet seasoning burst forth together with the juices.
"It's, it's delicious……!"
This time he tried scooping up just the rice.
"Wow……!"
Every single grain of rice felt alive. The sauce that had seeped deep between the grains was neither as salty nor as sweet as it looked. It simply melded with the rice and delivered a taste fit for the heavens.
And then, just when it felt like it might start to cloy — the refreshing burst of Welsh spring onion popping in the mouth.
"Oh! Oh oh oh!!!"
Gent worked his spoon in a frenzy. No knife, no fork needed. With nothing but a single spoon he gently broke apart the meat, scooped up the rice, and crammed it into his mouth bite after bite.
"I've never tasted anything like this in my life!"
The perfect flavour spreading through every corner of his mouth. The warmth filling his empty stomach with satisfaction.
This was not merely the tastiest meal he'd ever been given at a distribution. Not even close. Every dish he had ever eaten in his entire life, added together, still fell short of this single dish called 'Braised Ribs Rice Bowl.'
Exclamations began bursting out from the people around him too.
"Wow! What is this? It just melts in your mouth!"
"Try this sauce! It's on a completely different level!"
"Mother! Have some quickly! It won't hurt your teeth at all!"
"Long live Her Majesty the Queen!"
Brigitte, who had been standing at the distribution counter watching the scene, smiled with quiet pride.
"Everyone seems to love it."
Of course they did. Choosing the Braised Ribs Rice Bowl as the menu had been exactly the right call. No — calling it the right call would be an understatement. It wouldn't be too much to call it an outright cheat code.
It started with the menu itself.
The finest cuts sent directly from the Keystone Company. Combined with the savoury-sweet sauce built on a Ganjang base, it had transformed into a bewitching combination that suited virtually everyone, young and old, men and women alike.
And who was it that had engineered the ratios of this flavour?
"Of course. It went through the hands of Britannia's finest cook."
"Hehe, if you keep praising me like that I'll get embarrassed."
Britannia's wonder. The one who had bloomed brilliantly in solitude in this culinary wasteland — Brigitte. Even Jurgen found himself genuinely taken aback once more by Brigitte's precise recipe, which could produce this quality of flavour in mass quantities.
And the merits of this Braised Ribs Rice Bowl didn't stop there.
"First row, ready for distribution!"
"Scoop the rice!"
"Add the meat!"
The tent where the distribution counters were set up was exactly like a conveyor belt.
Spoon fluffy rice into a paper cup. Ladle generously steamed Braised Ribs and broth on top. Sprinkle fresh green Welsh spring onion to cut through the richness.
Finally, push in one spoon and hand it over — done.
"Enjoy your meal! Next, please!"
No elaborate plating. No cutlery setup required. Side dishes unnecessary as well.
The time spent on each person was a mere three to five seconds. A truly astonishing turnover rate.
And that wasn't all.
If it had been nothing more than a fast turnover, they would still have run into all manner of problems.
Questions like — where to seat two hundred thousand people, and how to hand out the tableware. This is where the paper cups and disposable bamboo spoons, devised through Serena and Jurgen putting their heads together, showed their true worth.
Light, easy to carry, and above all, extraordinarily easy to clean up after.
"Please stack your used cups here! Spoons go over there!"
"My, this is really convenient!"
The citizens who had received their food had no need to wander around looking for a seat.
Cup in one hand, spoon in the other, they strolled freely through the square, laughing and chattering.
"Is this…… really possible?"
The nobles watching the distribution from the VIP Terrace were dumbstruck.
By any rational expectation, a meal on a scale of two hundred thousand should have been absolute chaos. Fights breaking out because the food ran short, people eating with their hands because there were no utensils, mountains of dirty dishes piling up and reeking.
That was what happened even when they were handing out nothing more than bread and soup.
But the scene unfolding before their eyes right now was uncannily orderly. Everyone was holding warm food in their hands, expressions happy, enjoying the festival.
And above all else……
"Ahem……"
One count, forgetting all dignity, rubbed his rounded belly. The savoury scent of the sauce and the wholesome smell of rice that had been drifting up on the cool breeze since a short while ago.
A 'delicious smell' that bore no comparison to the bland, expensive food he usually enjoyed.
The cold lobster sitting on the table and the elaborately decorated Salmon Pie suddenly looked like rubbish.
"Ahem, do you think I might be able to get one of those as well?"
"P-please preserve your dignity, my Lord Count! That's something commoners eat……"
"……No, but the smell is just too good."
"That it is."
An appetite-stirring aroma that even the nobles were drooling over.
"Right, I can't bear it! Go and fetch me one."
"Get one for me too, if you would!"
In the end, it was appetite that won over dignity. Starting with the nobles who held enough power that they needn't worry about Clarisse's reaction, one by one they began sending their attendants down to the square below.
At the very moment the square was blazing with heat —
A high terrace of the Royal Palace. Behind the ornate curtains stood two women.
"……"
One was Britannia's ruler, Queen Mathilda. The other was the woman responsible for the empire's internal affairs — the Acting Minister of Internal Affairs, Lily Fontaine.
In the Queen's hands was a now-cool Cup Rice that the Head Attendant had procured a short while ago.
"How delightful."
The Queen set down her spoon and smiled quietly.
"The flavour is superb, but what astonishes me is the idea itself. Lily, your eye for these things was not wrong."
In truth, the decision to entrust this year's Birthday Banquet public welfare operation to Y&P Trading Company had not been solely the Queen's own will.
Royal Warrant or not — compared to the great capital trading companies with over a hundred years of history, it was still little more than a newborn. And furthermore, was it not the company of the second daughter of the Rosemore Count Family of the North, who were currently engaged in a delicate tug-of-war with the Royal Household over succession?
It was only natural that the Ministry of the Royal Household and the House of Nobles had opposed it fiercely.
Even so, there was only one reason the Queen had given her final approval. The recommendation of Lily Fontaine — the Acting Minister of Internal Affairs who oversaw the entirety of state affairs and whose judgement was cooler-headed than anyone's.
"You flatter me too much."
"And yet it is also rather unlike you."
The Queen raised the corners of her lips in a look of amusement.
"As I recall, this is the first time you have pushed a particular trading company — and this openly, at that."
The Queen's observation was precise. Lily Fontaine was a thorough adherent to principles. Nor was she the type to forcibly push forward a venture with no guaranteed outcome.
In every respect, it was an exceptional occurrence.
"Was there some arrangement with the Rosemore Count Family? A promise of a comfortable position once you stepped down from the Minister of Internal Affairs seat."
At the Queen's mischievous question, Lily was silent for a moment.
"An arrangement? I simply chose the best hand available."
Lily opened her mouth, composed as ever.
"Your Majesty need only look at the results. The noise along the way is mine to bear."
At Lily's manner of speaking — cutting straight to the point — the Queen gave a quiet laugh.
"Very well. The result is this splendid, so I shall press no further."
The Queen turned her gaze back toward the square. But in her eyes, a peculiar curiosity about Lily still lingered.
"Then I shall take my leave."
"Yes. Do not push yourself too hard. Though I expect that warning means little to you."
Walking back to her office, Lily allowed herself a wry smile.
She had laid quite a few smokescreens, and yet she had been seen through without exception.
"I suppose I was a little unnatural."
Lily's true reason for recommending Y&P Trading Company lay elsewhere. Having watched Y&P Trading Company for quite some time now, Lily had been experiencing a sense of déjà vu in many respects.
The way Cola, born from a small trading company in the North, had come to dominate the North. The documents submitted at the time of CCC's Royal Warrant award, and more.
And with this Birthday Banquet matter, her conviction had been confirmed.
Lily had deliberately tossed a somewhat heavy burden to Y&P Trading Company. And Y&P Trading Company had resolved it brilliantly, as if to prove a point.
In Y&P Trading Company's way of moving, she had sensed a very, very familiar scent.
The former Minister of Internal Affairs she had once served. Her superior, who had vanished one day without warning, unable to bear the crushing workload any longer —
The only person who had truly understood her, who had worked alongside her to overhaul the empire's administrative systems. The genius she had never stopped admiring.
"Hanbin……"
The scent of Hanbin Ainsworth.
***
Meanwhile, at the same hour in the square.
"A strange chill……"
Jurgen, who had been stirring a ladle inside the tent as the distribution carried on in full swing, suddenly felt an inexplicable shiver run through him. The tent was unmistakably thick with warm steam rising from the steamers — and yet it was as though his very bones had gone cold.
"What is it? Are you coming down with a cold? You look pale."
Penelope, who had joined a little later and was ladling rice beside him, asked with concern.
"No, it's not that……"
Jurgen looked around with an unsettled expression.
This feeling was……how to describe it. Yes.
The pressure he used to feel when buried alive under a mountain of documents requiring his signature, surviving on nothing but coffee. The pressure he felt when, sneaking out at four in the morning with his bag packed to leave, a voice would say, 'Hanbin, where are you going?'
Surely not, Lily?
Jurgen quietly raised his head and cast a sideways glance at the Royal Palace terrace visible in the distance.
Surely not.
He was probably just worrying for no reason after staying in the capital for so long. He hadn't done anything particularly conspicuous during his time at Y&P Trading Company — how would Lily have any way of figuring out that Jurgen was Hanbin?
Jurgen shook his head vigorously and forced himself to dispel the uneasy feeling.
One day he would return to the position of Minister of Internal Affairs — but not today. The Culinary Revolution still lay ahead, after all.
Just then, Penelope looked at him intently and said,
"Are you thinking about another woman?"
Penelope's exclamation yanked him back to reality.
"W-what on earth are you saying all of a sudden?"
"You just had that kind of look on your face."
Penelope tilted her head, suspicious.
"Of course not. I was just…… worried we might run short of rice."
"Jurgen, you're sweating?"
"Ahem, the heat from the steamers is no joke, is it?"
"Hmm. We're going to have a proper talk about this later."
Penelope did not drop her suspicious gaze, but the flood of people pressing in stopped her from pressing him further.
Jurgen fled to the front of the distribution counter as though making his escape.
"Phew…… scooping rice is honestly less stressful……"
Jurgen worked his rice paddle desperately, trying to clear his mind of unwanted thoughts.