Chapter 94: This Water Boiled Beef, It's Alive
Before today, Lucifer had imagined countless times what this woman—Momobami Kirari—would be like in person.
She was the one Sonoko Suzuki only dared to speak tough about behind her back. She was the terrifying force dominating the Hyakkaou Private Academy.
But now that she was sitting right there, the reality seemed somewhat beyond Lucifer's initial expectations.
Kirari possessed an impeccable figure. She exuded the natural, crushing aura of a high-ranking absolute ruler. She didn't just sit; she presided over the space she occupied.
However, the most crucial and arresting aspect of her appearance was her makeup.
It was a style that would have looked ridiculous or clownish on ninety-nine percent of the population. This was specifically because of the lipstick.
It was blue. A chilly, unnatural cyan blue.
It was simply too bewitching, too avant-garde. Yet, on Kirari Momobami's pale, porcelain face, it didn't just look acceptable; it looked exceptionally suitable. It enhanced her icy demeanor, making her look like a beautiful, poisonous flower blooming on a frozen cliff.
Lucifer briefly tried to imagine Kirari with standard red lipstick in her mind. She tried painting over the mental image.
She immediately dismissed the idea with a shudder.
Just thinking about it felt wrong. The harmonious cruelty of her style would collapse completely. Red was too warm, too human. Blue was the color of veins under cold skin, the color of deep water where light couldn't reach.
"Ren, I..." Kirari began, her voice smooth like velvet over steel.
Ren, standing behind the counter wiping a glass, directly interrupted the head of the Momobami clan without a flinch.
"Don't say anything heavy yet. We'll talk about business later. What would you like to eat? You shouldn't have just come here to discuss things with me on an empty stomach, right?"
Kirari paused. Her eyes narrowed slightly, gleaming with amusement rather than anger.
"Am I that transparent? Very well. Just a steak and foie gras. Oh, and a glass of Lafite for me... No, actually, wait."
She tapped a manicured fingernail against her chin, considering her options.
"You mix a drink for me. Surprise me."
Seeing Kirari's enigmatic smiling face, Ren felt a familiar sense of helplessness. This woman treated every interaction like a wager, even ordering dinner.
He sighed softly, nodding, and then shifted his gaze to the dark-haired girl standing stiffly beside Kirari.
"Then... Sayaka, what would you like to eat?"
Sayaka Igarashi, Kirari's fiercely loyal secretary, jolted slightly at being addressed.
She was standing at attention, clutching a clipboard against her chest as if it were a shield. She glanced nervously at Kirari, then back to Ren, looking somewhat overwhelmed by the casual atmosphere.
"R-Ren-san," she stammered, her cheeks tinting pink. "Anything is fine... whatever the President is having, or... anything convenient."
"Alright. Then please wait a moment. I will prepare it as quickly as possible."
After speaking, Ren turned and vanished behind the noren curtains into the kitchen area. The sounds of running water and the clinking of heavy pans soon followed.
Kirari looked around the establishment with calculated interest.
Her gaze swept over the warm wood paneling, the soft lighting, and the collection of odd trinkets. Finally, her eyes landed on the table next to her.
She adjusted her skirt and sat down with fluid grace. Propping her chin in her hand, her blue lips curled into a smile as she looked at the silver-haired girl and the three-headed dog nearby.
"Are you Cerberus?" Kirari asked, her tone dropping to a purr. "What a cute child."
"Huh?" Cerberus paused, a spoon hanging from her mouth.
Lucifer, sitting across from Cerberus, lightly coughed to regain composure. She sat up straighter, trying to project her own aura of dignity as the Queen of Hell.
"Kirari, why did you really come to find Ren tonight?"
"To ask him for help," Kirari answered simply.
However, her eyes danced with hidden meaning. "But it seems Sister Yumiko was right in the group chat. You really are the first one..."
Lucifer paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. "The first what?"
"To cross that line," Kirari murmured.
Her gaze drifted toward the kitchen curtain where Ren's silhouette was visible against the light.
"We've all been in a stalemate for so long. Circling each other, maintaining the status quo. I didn't expect the Queen of Hell to be the one to break the formation in the end."
Kirari smiled sharper. "But it's not unacceptable. In fact, it makes things much easier this way. The rules of the game have changed."
Lucifer stared at Kirari in a daze. She was still processing the implication.
The first to live here? The first to be this close?
She didn't fully grasp the complexity of what Kirari was suggesting regarding the hierarchy of the girls surrounding Ren. But she realized one thing: her taking that step to move in was viewed as a significant victory in the eyes of others.
It didn't matter anymore. Her taking that step today was already a success. She was here. They were guests.
Kirari glanced down at the empty plates on Lucifer's table, observing the remnants of sauce and garnish.
"This taste, the lingering aroma... it must be yours, Lucifer," she noted.
"Eh? How did you know?" Lucifer asked, surprised.
"Because I'm too familiar with Ren's cooking," Kirari said, leaning back. "It has a specific... soul to it. Perfection is easy to buy, but his cooking has a heartbeat. If you made this, then you're one of the few people in the group who can actually cook, aren't you?"
She tilted her head. "That's really impressive. Most of the others would burn water."
Lucifer didn't say anything further to Kirari. She chose instead to quietly finish the last bites of her side dish. She felt a strange mix of pride and wariness.
Cerberus, on the other hand, paid even less attention.
The dog-girl was eating happily, humming a tune. She didn't care at all whether the terrifying President of the Student Council was beside her or not. To Cerberus, if you didn't have food in your hand, you were just background noise.
The Restaurant fell into a comfortable, albeit loaded, silence.
In the corner, Suzuki Satoru—the human form of the Overlord, Momonga—was hunched over his table.
The glare of his smartphone illuminated his face as he frantically typed away. He was writing a comprehensive guide for... well, only he knew.
Lucifer was dining quietly, maintaining her etiquette. Cerberus, though eating with gusto, made no sound other than the clinking of cutlery.
Kirari, with a strange look in her aquamarine eyes, watched the domestic scene. Her smile hovered somewhere between predatory and appreciative.
"Hmm? What's that smell?" Kirari suddenly lifted her head, her nostrils flaring slightly. "It feels so... aggressive. Spicy."
Just as everything seemed exceptionally harmonious, a very violent yet fragrant aroma exploded from the kitchen.
It wasn't the rich, buttery smell of the foie gras Ren was searing for Kirari. This was something sharper. It was a scent that punched through the air, dominating the senses.
Suzuki Satoru immediately put away his phone, his head snapping up.
He swallowed hard. An audible gulp echoed in the quiet room.
There are flavors that entice, and then there are flavors that command obedience.
What always makes one's mouth water instantly are the sour and spicy flavors. It's a physiological reaction, hardwired into the human body.
Suzuki Satoru firmly believed one thing in that moment: this dish, the owner of this tyrannical aroma, was his.
"It smells like... home," Satoru whispered to himself. He reminisced about the late-night eateries of his original Japan, before he became a skeletal ruler.
Under everyone's expectant gaze, Ren emerged from the kitchen.
He wasn't carrying the delicate plates for Kirari yet. Instead, he was holding a large, heavy porcelain bowl with both hands.
With every step he took toward Satoru's table, the enticing spicy aroma spread like a shockwave. It filled every corner of the restaurant, demanding attention.
"Water Boiled Beef," Ren announced calmly, setting the heavy bowl down. "But don't eat it yet. There's one last step."
[Akarin's Note: Water Boiled Beef (Shuizhu Niurou) is a famous Sichuan dish. Despite the name "Water Boiled," the meat is poached in broth, and the dish is famous for its heavy use of chili oil and peppercorns.]
"Eh? Okay!" Satoru nodded vigorously. He sat on his hands to stop himself from instinctively reaching for chopsticks.
He looked down into the bowl. It was a masterpiece of crimson.
The broth was a deep, fiery red, opaque and menacing. Slices of tenderized beef, cut to the perfect thickness, extended from the bottom of the bowl to the rim. They were piled high like a delicious mountain.
Emerald green vegetables—likely Napa cabbage and celery—were submerged in the broth. They peeked out like islands in a sea of fire.
But that wasn't all.
The surface was sprinkled generously with a layer of dark red chili powder and coarse chili flakes. Resting atop that was a mound of minced garlic and chopped green onions.
A handful of fresh cilantro lay on the side, adding a pop of verdant color to the sea of red.
Occasionally, Satoru could spot the distinctive husks of Sichuan peppercorns floating near the edge. They promised that signature numbing málà sensation.
Everything about the dish screamed intensity. It told you that this dish wasn't just food; it was a challenge. It was the kind of meal that demanded three, maybe four bowls of white rice to survive.
When a person is hungry, they salivate at the sight of simple bread. But a numbing, spicy dish emitting such a complex, layered aroma? It was torture.
The brief ten-odd seconds Ren was gone felt like more than ten minutes to Suzuki Satoru. He stared at the garlic, willing it to mix itself.
Just as Satoru was slightly lost in thought, fantasizing about the texture of the meat, Ren emerged again.
This time, the atmosphere changed.
Ren was carrying a small iron ladle or perhaps a small pot—yes, a pot. And from it came a distinct, threatening sound.
Bubble. Hiss.
The sound of boiling oil.
Everyone looked confused, wondering what was in the pot. Even Kirari leaned forward, her blue lips parted slightly in curiosity.
Ren walked up to Suzuki Satoru's table.
Satoru clearly felt the astonishing radiant heat coming from the small pot in Ren's hand. It was scorching. He instinctively recoiled, pressing his back against the chair.
"Ren-san, what is this?" Satoru asked, eyeing the smoking oil.
Ren smiled, looking like a craftsman confident in his art. "Step back a bit more, Satoru. Otherwise, it might splash on you."
Suzuki Satoru nodded rapidly. He stood up and took a full step back, giving the table a wide berth.
Ren positioned the pot of superheated oil directly over the mound of minced garlic, chili powder, and scallions sitting atop the beef.
He smiled and shook his head, murmuring, "There's no need to be that scared... Never mind, then. Time to inject some soul."
He tilted his wrist.
SIZZLE—!
The sound was explosive. It wasn't a gentle hiss; it was the roar of a dragon awakening.
The boiling oil cascaded onto the spices. A thick, white plume of steam erupted instantly. It carried a rich, numbing, and spicy aroma that was ten times more potent than before.
This Water Boiled Beef... had awakened.
Ren poured the contents of the pot methodically. He ensured every grain of garlic and every flake of chili was scalded by the heat.
The sound of the hot oil clashing with the broth rang out like heavy rain. It made everyone's hearts tremble with a primal reaction to the raw energy of cooking.
Ren picked up the empty pot.
The aroma in the room instantly intensified by an immeasurable amount.
The raw garlic scent was gone, replaced by the savory fragrance of fried garlic. The chili powder had been toasted in a split second, releasing its essential oils. The green onions wilted slightly, giving up their sweetness to the oil.
The surface of the soup was now bubbling violently. It was a chaotic, beautiful mess of red oil and spices.
Ren smiled and said, "Now it's complete. Please enjoy. Oh, right, what would you like to drink to go with this?"
Satoru stared at the bubbling bowl, mesmerizing. "Iced Coke! It has to be Iced Coke!"
"Good choice. The carbonation cuts the oil."
Ren quickly fetched a glass filled with ice and a bottle of cola. He placed them within reach before retreating to finish Kirari's order.
Suzuki Satoru sat back down in his seat. His heart rate was actually elevated.
He looked at the Water Boiled Beef, which had evolved into its complete form due to the hot oil baptism. He was utterly excited.
After a tiring day of managing the Great Tomb of Nazarick and acting as a perfect ruler, being able to eat such a visceral, humble, yet explosive meal was the perfect end.
He picked up his chopsticks and gently stirred the bowl.
The oil slick on top broke, revealing the silky beef underneath. The unique aroma of authentic Sichuan cuisine wafted directly into his face, clearing his sinuses instantly.
Even the bean sprouts hidden at the bottom seemed incredibly appetizing at this moment.
He reached in and clamped a piece of beef.
It shimmered slightly under the hanging light. It was coated in the thick, spicy broth and a sheen of chili oil.
The beef jiggled twice, showcasing its tenderness. The "velveting" technique Ren had used—coating the meat in starch and egg white before poaching—meant the moisture was locked in.
Excess sauce dripped off, leaving only the most saturated flavor clinging to the surface.
Satoru blew on it gently, then placed the meat in his mouth.
Boom.
With one bite, the beef was incredibly smooth. It slid over his tongue.
It wasn't overly chewy despite being beef; instead, it retained a satisfying elasticity while melting away with a hint of freshness. The texture was sublime—tender, yet substantial.
Then came the flavor profile.
First, the savory saltiness of the marinade hit him. This was followed immediately by the intense heat of the chili.
And finally, the ma—the numbing vibration of the Sichuan peppercorns that made his lips tingle pleasantly.
The spicy, fresh, and savory taste instantly awakened every single one of the diner's taste buds.
It was scalding hot.
Perhaps it was the addition of the hot oil cap that insulated the beef, keeping the temperature near boiling. Every bite felt dangerous, requiring quick breaths to cool the mouth. Yet, one couldn't bear to stop.
What's the point of spiciness if it's not accompanied by heat? The temperature amplifies the spice. Cold spicy food is just pain; hot spicy food is an experience.
Satoru shoveled a large mouthful of white rice into his mouth. He needed to balance the intense salinity and heat.
The neutral sweetness of the rice mixed with the oily, spicy beef was a match made in heaven.
"Delicious..." he muttered, sweat already forming on his forehead.
It proved that the information Suzuki Satoru initially gathered from this dish was correct. This was the absolute king of dishes to accompany rice.
Hot, spicy, numbing, and vibrant.
These were the flavors that best awakened a person's spirit. It was the perfect choice to re-energize oneself after a tiring day of politics and magic.
He grabbed the glass of Coke. The ice clinked against the glass as he took a long swig.
The cold, fizzy liquid washed away the oil and cooled the burn, resetting his palate for the next bite.
Night is never lonely; night should always be accompanied by warmth...
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