NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 39
The preparations for the festival and holiday are usually busier than the event itself.
Wintersend was fast approaching.
The ceiling of Winterhome, along with beautifully decorated walls featuring colorful flags and fabrics, had begun to be adorned with triangles engraved with hammers.
From the grand entrance of Winterhome, every door frame was hung with a ring made of evergreen needles and small bronze bells, vibrant even in winter.
Naturally, it was only expected that the walls and floors would be cleaned even more thoroughly than usual.
The snow, piled up like castle walls, had been cleared away completely.
Young servants were bent over, collecting even the tiniest fragments of stone, fearful they might accidentally step on one.
Restricted areas where guests and offerers of sacrifices were not allowed were sealed off.
The decorative items that embellished the castle were moved deep into the warehouse to make way for various artworks and decorations that showcased the Felwinter family’s prowess.
The kitchen, the one place in Winterhome that never slept, was bustling as well.
Meals and special dishes were being prepared for those toiling in preparation for the festival.
Dinner would be a gathering of everyone from the members of the Felwinter family to the servants.
They were getting ready for the banquet food that would be served on the day of Wintersend.
In the kitchen, the fire had not had a chance to die down for several days now.
This would be the norm until Wintersend ended.
And at the helm of all this chaos were individuals like Alfred Felwinter and Elder Iona, who were expected to be busy as well.
Catherine was no exception.
Previously handling the backlog of work, now she was swamped again, buried in tasks.
“Damn fireworks. Damn Flower of! Five crowns for a single sparkler!”
Naturally, a festival should be grand.
And Catherine was forced into a situation where she had to prepare all that grandeur alone.
If it were just a fireworks display, it wouldn’t be too hard.
Anyone could manage that, even a passing wizard’s apprentice.
But she was at Winterhome.
The place with the most valuable items across Coldon, no, all of Iceland.
Not to mention, various decorations were being hung for Wintersend.
Furthermore, the winter in Iceland was dry as a bone.
Just spending a few hours outside could leave one’s skin cracked from the biting winds.
In that kind of situation, even a small spark could lead to a fire.
However, casting protection magic on all the decorations and facilities was out of the question.
There was simply not enough magical personnel, not to mention the time constraints.
Moreover, the fireworks were planned not just for Winterhome, but also for Coldon outside the castle.
In the end, there was no choice but to manually handle each and every Flower of for the firework display.
“Sir Atanitas.”
“Just wait until that damn successor arrives… Huh? What is it?”
“Should we not take a meal first?”
“Huh? Already?”
For Catherine, who had plunged into an eternal hell of overwork, the only thing Karem could do was prepare a meal and a snack that could alleviate her fatigue.
As Karem finished speaking, Mary placed down a dish.
A steak sandwich filled with valuable winter greens, lettuce, and cheese.
Grilled cheese toast, golden and crispy on both sides, containing four kinds of cheese.
A sweet and nutty sandwich smeared with nut paste and jam.
Three different kinds of sandwiches were piled high on the plate.
The delicious aroma momentarily pulled Catherine away from the Flower of.
“It’s my first sandwich since the griffin incident.”
“You never can put your work down, so I had it prepared so you can eat while working.”
“Such a pointless endeavor.”
Catherine clicked her tongue and shook her head.
Yet her body seemed honest enough as she, wearing white gloves, skillfully crafted a fist-sized Flower of with metaphysical shapes and magic circles, immediately bit into the sandwich Mary had offered.
“By the way, Sir Atanitas, is that protection glove you mentioned before?”
“Yeah. Given the materials involved with the Flower of, protecting my hands is essential.”
“Sounds pretty dangerous.”
“Everything else is fine, but there’s one problem. One of the materials causes involuntary pain upon contact. But by the way, is everything prepared well?”
“Uh? What kind of preparation do you mean?”
“For Wintersend. The offerer. The sacrifice.”
“Oh, that’s what you’re referring to.”
It was Catherine’s first time offering food as a sacrifice.
After some thought on what to do, Karem asked those he knew for guidance, but each replied the same:
“It’s enough to create your best work.”
Is that really sufficient?
Feeling dizzy from such an irresponsible and vague answer was reminiscent of when one asks what to eat only to receive a response of “anything.”
Karem turned his head toward Mary just in case.
She was among those he had asked after all.
“Are you saying ‘your best work’ literally?”
“I’ve said it countless times, it’s nothing more, nothing less.”
And yet, it remained an incredibly vague response.
Catherine, having swallowed her mouthful, furrowed her brows as she set aside the Flower of into a nearby basket.
“Aren’t you done preparing yet?”
“To be honest.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m overwhelmed thinking of too many things that come to mind.”
A clear menu but filled with vague requests.
It was the worst kind of question for someone who loves cooking, a gourmet, a chef.
After finishing the tail end of her steak sandwich, Catherine took a bite of the cheese toast and tilted her head.
“Kiddo.”
“Yes?”
“Are you really overthinking this?”
“Overthinking?”
“No, perhaps ‘complicated’ is a more fitting word. Kiddo, what’s your profession?”
Catherine gracefully deployed a magic circle with one hand, lifting the Flower of with a flourish.
It was only natural for Karem to scrunch his face at such an obvious question.
A look that practically screamed, “Was that really necessary?”
To which Catherine shouted, “Ah! I’m providing you the answer here, so hurry and respond!”
“I’m a chef. I’m directly employed by you, after all.”
“Correct. So what does a chef do?”
“Well, make delicious…”
Food, to serve.
That phrase popped into his mind reflexively.
Karem’s eyes widened.
That’s right.
Just like a blacksmith makes the finest weapons with utmost effort.
Just as a tanner meticulously tends to leather.
A chef simply has to do their best to cook.
There was no demand for a masterpiece.
To do one’s best clearly indicated that he had to present the best dish possible given the current circumstances.
While conditions and circumstances could vary, the duty of a chef had never changed from the past to now.
As much as the payment received, serving delicious food to guests and employers with sincere effort was all that was required.
And look at Catherine’s expression; she smiled triumphantly, as if to say she had guided him to this realization. Karem just had to present his best dish.
As soon as he decided this in his heart, the recipe that unfolded in Karem’s mind condensed into a singular form.
As the confusion and doubts vanished from his face, Mary spoke up.
“I’ll give you a warning just in case.”
“Uh? Yes?”
“The sacrifice for the offerer of Wintersend must be fully prepared by the offerer. Unlike when you whisked meringue or grilled skewers, you cannot seek the help of your junior Karem.”
“Oh, that’s a bit disappointing.”
Mary glared at Karem as though she were witnessing a cunning child trying to outsmart her while bringing Catherine’s meal.
But Karem couldn’t help it.
Hardworking brownie Mary was just too convenient.
She even volunteered to do the dishes he didn’t want to do.
Cleaning and organizing after cooking, all he had to do was ask, and it felt as if he had two bodies.
Reluctantly, Karem decided to ask the ever-competent Catherine.
“What happens if I accept help from others?”
“You’d be guilty of sacrilege. Minor offenses would lead to banishment, while the worst could invoke divine punishment.”
“…Uh, divine punishment?”
“Right. The last record I heard was about an old blacksmith who, due to old age, received a smidge of help from an apprentice and was struck by lightning and exploded at the moment of offering.”
Karem quickly dismissed any lingering thoughts.
*
*
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As soon as Karem heard that Wintersend was a holiday and festival honoring someone, he could immediately decide what meat to use.
In celebrations across civilizations and barbarism, past and present, pork could not be omitted.
If somebody in Joseon decided to celebrate something, they would slaughter a pig to share with the entire village. This was true for nearly every country, save rare instances.
Setting aside the tale of how pork became a festival symbol,
More importantly, the reason Karem chose pork was that it was one of his favorite dishes.
With that in mind, the moment Catherine finished her meal, Karem stepped outside.
With Mary the porter in tow, they set off for the Winterhome’s butchery.
The butchery was also bustling, preparing to feed those working in preparing for Wintersend and get ready for the meats to be served for the festival.
Initially, the butchers didn’t look favorably upon Karem.
Who would welcome a kid showing up unexpectedly when they were already swamped?
But their attitude changed as soon as Mary introduced Karem as one of the offerers for this Wintersend.
“I’d like to procure some pork.”
“Pork, huh? We just received good Highland sows from the natives. They don’t smell much either. Which cut would you like?”
“Pork belly with the skin still on!”
“…Why that, of all things?”
Upon hearing Karem’s request, the butchers tilted their heads in unison.
Pork with skin still on made sense.
Roast pig was typically served with the skin crispy.
But just the belly? For them, the pig’s belly was merely a part to extract very little meat compared to the fat.
Usually, people preferred the loin, tenderloin, or hind leg.
Every so often, someone would ask for the foreleg.
But for butchers experienced enough to know, Karem was the first chef who solely asked for just belly.
“Highland pigs have a lot of fat but are active, so they have firm meat. What about the hind leg…”
“Pork belly with skin still on! If possible, I want some lean meat too!”
But Karem remained adamant, requesting only pork belly.
Well, it seemed they had to accommodate his wishes somehow.
Thanks to the festival’s abundance of pigs, Karem could procure a whole slab of pig belly.
He immediately offloaded it to Mary as they left the butchery, and one of the butchers called after him, “So what exactly are you planning to make with that belly?”
“Porchetta!”
Karem was confident.
It may not be the best offering for Wintersend.
But Porchetta was the best he could present at this moment.