Enrico listened to the voice that filled the world as he faced the chawanmushi.
From what he understood, this world was filled with wonders and miracles. Even if he didnât think much about how celestial bodies like the sun and moon worked, Godâs profound love made every day possible.
Therefore, the ingredients that made up this pudding were all filled with Godâs grace.
The order in which the ingredients inside revealed themselves would allow him to predict the will of God.
This talent was one of the works of God he had acquired after undergoing long and arduous training.
It was a respectable form of divination
Just like sliding a copper coin on letters written on parchment paper or astrology, this method of divination was recorded in the ancient documents of the Holy Order.
Recently, this antiquated divination method was considered outdated, due to HĂźrghigegot pushing forward his reformation, but the Archbishop highly valued Enricoâs work of God.
He took the wooden spoon in his hands and cleared his mind.
All unnecessary distractions were discarded, leaving only the presence of the chawanmushi in front of him.
When the waterâs surface in his mind had calmed down completely, Enrico asked himself a question.
(The Holy OrderâŚwhat kind of existence would be ideal?)
When he slowly dipped the wooden spoon into the chawanmushi, he touched something.
This, this was his answer.
He slowly scooped it out; it was a small, jiggly, white food item in the shape of a semi-circle. Its edges were dyed pink.
ăThat is kamaboko. Itâs a kind of fish paste.ă
Kamaboko
The waitress called out to him from outside of his concentration.
Her voice sounded distorted, as if he was listening to her while submerged in water.
Kamaboko.
This semicircle represented one half of the world.
Indeed. According to the ancient teachings, the Holy Order was the religion of the world, and other matters were entrusted to emperors and kings.
He wanted to move on to his next question, but for that, it would be necessary for him to empty the spoon.
In order to not be suspected as a spy, he should at least pretend to eat it. This is what he was thinking as he brought the spoon to his mouth.
However, Enrico then nearly dropped the spoon by accident.
It was delicious.
The silky smoothness and fluffiness was delicious.
It was completely different from the tasteless pudding served in the monastery.
This kamaboko was also good. He had never eaten anything with this kind of chewy texture before.
The overwhelmingly dense and rich substance went hand in hand with its flavour. Could such a dish exist in this world?
No, this must be some sort of witchcraft.
He was about to scoop up the next mouthful, but he restrained himself.
âNo, this is wrong. This is a conversation, an interrogation.â
âDonât be distracted. Donât get drawn in by the witchesâ tricks.â
In order to calm his mind, he asked his usual questions.
(Godâs presence, what does it look like?)
He inserted the spoon again while praying in his mind.
Then, he hit something else. It looked like a leafy vegetable.
While he was thinking about what was on the spoon, he stared at it in detail, as there was something unbelievable there.
ăThatâs mitsuba, right?ă
<small>(TL note: mitsuba = japanese parsley / three leaves)</small>
Mitsuba
Mitsuba. There were three leaves, but at the same time, there was only one.
It appeared as if it were representing the three states of God.
This conversation had been a success. If that was the case, then he should be able to investigate this store without any problems.
However, before that, a bite.
It was not because he wanted to eat it, it was just to empty the spoon.
It was certainly not the case that he had succumbed to his desires.
Munch.
When he held it in his mouth, he realised that this leafy vegetable hadnât just been steamed.
It had also been parboiled once earlier, and it appeared to be seasoned as well.
Otherwise, it couldnât taste this good.
It didnât just taste good, however; it was delicious.
Why was it so delicious?
This caused Enricoâs mind to waver.
Was it really alright to ask the next question, ăIs this the witchesâ lair?ă?
If he got the answer that it really was the witchesâ lair, Enrico, as someone related to the ministry, would have to leave this place immediately.
When that happened, what would become of the rest of the chawanmushi?
Since it would be a customerâs leftovers, wouldnât it be thrown away?
That would be really regrettable.
Was there a way to finish the chawanmushi?
There was.
He would issue the question on the last bite of the chawanmushi.
If he did that, assuming this was the witchesâ lair, he could leave after finishing the chawanmushi.
Whenever he asked a question, the spoon found an ingredient.
A chicken that told the time. A lily bulb that demonstrated that what was important thing wasnât the content, but the act of questioning things. Even a gingko seed that remained unbroken through the eternal passing of time.
In any case, a satisfactory answer for each question could be derived from the ingredients.
It was also delicious.
Before he had noticed, there was only one spoonful left in the bowl.
Even though he was reluctant, Enrico asked the final question.
(Is this store the witchesâ lair?)
If it was the witchesâ lair, it should contain an ingredient pointing towards it.
However, there was only the jiggling, pure chawanmushi on the spoon.
The result of the divination was: innocent.
Enrico came to that conclusion as he licked the last spoonful of the chawanmushi.
Could it be that this place wasnât really the witchesâ lair?
Certainly, when he observed this harmonious atmosphere, it was hard to believe that this was a garden of heresy.
Originally, the information that this store was suspicious had only come from Damien.
It was important for the classical regression faction to have a witch in the Old Capital, but it didnât necessarily have to be this store.
Besides, this chawanmushi was delicious.
Should he ask for another chawanmushi so that his divination would be more accurate?
While he was thinking that, Enrico felt a strong gaze from behind.
It wasnât from a person.
While trembling, he turned around to look, but there was no one there.
There was only the enshrined pagan altar.
ăMister, is there anything wrong with the household shrine (kamidana)?ă
There was definitely something living in the altar that the waitress called kamidana.
It wasnât evil. It was something of a holy nature, but it was outside of the limits of Enricoâs imagination.
ăTh-thank you for the meal!ă
Enrico took some silver coins out of his pocket and handed them over to the waitress before rushing out into the night of the Old Capital, back into the autumn rain.
What witchesâ lair?
There was a high-ranking sacred beast, probably something like a fox spirit, guarding the store. It was impossible for witches and the like to step into it.
While carrying his unbearable desire and an unsatisfied stomach, Enrico racked his brains on what to report to the Archbishop.