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He looked like the very image of a sacred painting—an enlightened shepherd guiding a lost lamb.

The priest-warrior swiftly adjusted the settings on his artifact, dimming the harsh magical light. Now bathed in a softer glow, Father Lawrence pressed on. “In the end, you were merely an unwitting courier for the threatening letter. That makes you a victim as well. I truly believe your soul remains unstained.”

Hearing those words, Colin slowly lifted his exhausted face, gazing up at Father Lawrence as if seeing a savior.

Ah… so this is a classic case of psychological manipulation.

First, the ‘harsh interrogator’ applies stress and pressure, forcing the subject into a corner. Then, the ‘gentle cleric’ swoops in, offering a lifeline.

It was a common tactic, yet as expected of a priest-warrior who called himself a ‘guardian of the law’ and a high-ranking priest, their execution was seamless. They inflicted no physical torture, but their ability to corner a subject psychologically and tame them with impeccable timing was nothing short of a masterful craft.

“But as part of our duty, we must pursue the truth as it is. Even if you are unaware, Colin, there may be crucial clues linking you to the true culprit, see!” Father Lawrence spoke with fervor, only to suddenly lower his tone, a sorrowful expression crossing his face.

“And please, try to understand—the plight of the two fragile priestesses, trembling in fear, targeted by these shadowy criminals.” His deep, resonant voice carried through the room, and at the climax of his speech, he invoked righteous indignation for the sake of the helpless priestesses.

By this point, Colin’s ability to think critically had been thoroughly worn down.

“…I understand. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll cooperate fully.” With a sincere expression, he nodded several times—entirely convinced that this was his own decision.

((What a pushover))

Faced with Father Lawrence’s dazzling display of manipulation and his unwavering, saintly facade, all we could do was shudder.

♢♦♢♦♢¹

Since selectively bred “pigs” don’t exist in this world, I use the next best thing—orc loin, taken from the back between the shoulder and waist, and cut into suitable portions.

For this dish, I want to highlight the meat’s natural flavor and fat, so I slice it a bit thicker than usual and season it with salt, pepper, and flour. Being in a capital city has its perks—there’s no shortage of spices.

Personally, I prefer lean cuts like the tenderloin, but since I’m cooking for a growing boy, I’m going all-in with the classic, hearty choice.

Though I plan for a single serving, I prepare extra in case of seconds—or failure.

In the meantime, I started making the sauce.

For the broth, I borrowed some chicken stock from the guild’s kitchen. I transfer a portion into a small pot and bring it to a high heat, seasoning it with white wine and sugar as substitutes for sake and mirin.

The key ingredient—soy sauce—is nowhere to be found, even in the capital, so I need an alternative.

Soy sauce mainly provides saltiness and umami, so at worst, I could just use salt and supplement the umami with something else.

I’d heard that some people unfamiliar with soy sauce find its aroma unpleasant, so I was about to settle for a simple salt-based seasoning—when the head chef, who had kindly lent me the kitchen, rummaged through a shelf and pulled out a bottle of dark liquid.

“A seasoning made from beans, you say? Hmm… use this.”

I sampled it. It wasn’t exactly soy sauce—more like Thailand’s “Golden Mountain Seasoning Sauce.” But since it was soybean-based, it got me much closer to the desired flavor.

Still, it lacked depth. To fix that, I used rehydrated dried mushrooms to enhance the broth, adjusting the heat and boiling time to concentrate the flavors.

While preparing the sauce, I coated the orc meat in egg and homemade breadcrumbs.

The breadcrumbs were easy, I scraped down a rock-hard baguette with a fork. The real problem was the eggs. In this city—or rather, on this continent—people don’t have the habit of eating fresh eggs. Cracking one open is always a gamble.

Rotten ones are a lost cause, of course, but about a third of the eggs tend to contain half-developed embryos—or belong to something other than a bird. Reptile eggs are manageable, but there’s always the risk of cracking open a giant insect’s egg… or worse, an egg from a Mimic.

Cooking, in this world, is quite literally a matter of life and death.

By the way, while you might think that freshly laid eggs are the tastiest, eggs that have been left for three to seven days actually have better flavor.

This has to do with the gases inside the egg, and the best way to select the ideal ones is to place them in 6% salt water—those that sink and lie flat at the bottom are good to use. If an egg floats… or worse, if you crack one open and hear a grotesque screeching sound as some unidentifiable creature jumps out—just pretend you saw nothing and toss it straight into the trash.

For a single serving, crack open one quality egg and lightly beat it in a container, making sure not to overmix it—the whites and yolk should still be somewhat distinct.

Now, it’s time to fry the tonkatsu.

Since I can’t afford to use a large amount of expensive oil, I pour just enough into the pan to submerge the meat and carefully fry it to a golden crisp without burning.

Once done, I drain the excess oil.

Next, I cut an onion into thin wedges, rinse the pieces in water, and separate them before sautéing over low heat.

I’d prefer to use a small dedicated pot for this, but since I don’t have one, I make do with an available frying pan.

I add the broth and onions, turn up the heat to medium, and bring it to a simmer. Once it’s bubbling, I slice the tonkatsu and lay it into the pan.

Some people prefer to add half of the beaten egg at this stage, but I like to pour it all in at the end, so I’ll stick with my method.

Keeping the heat at medium, I carefully pour a ladleful of the seasoned broth and ensure it doesn’t boil over.

Then, I slowly drizzle the beaten egg over the tonkatsu, covering it evenly. Finally, I place a lid over the pan to let the steam cook the eggs.

The lid is there to set the eggs, so the cooking time is up to personal preference.

I prefer mine slightly runny, but considering hygiene and the local people’s taste, I let it cook through completely this time.

Now, for the rice.

A small amount was available as a vegetable substitute, so I had already cooked it in a pot beforehand. I scoop it into a bowl-like container, then carefully place the small frying pan directly on top—

“And there we have it! A special katsudon, just for you. You must be starving. Go ahead and dig in.”
“UOOOOH! This is amazing! Too good! Lady Clara, I swear my loyalty to you for life!!”

Devouring the piping hot katsudon in the bleak underground interrogation room, Reporter Colin—oh, that’s too much trouble; Colin will do²—looks as if he’s been spiritually cleansed, tears streaming down his face.

This is how it should be. Binding people with religious dogma and warping their beliefs is not the right approach. When humans are struggling, the best thing to do is feed them something warm and delicious. Thinking can come later.

“To think that someone I personally persuaded was converted in an instant…”
“Ughhh…”

Looking dumbfounded at the scene is Father Lawrence, while Eliza grits her teeth in frustration.

“Once you’re done eating, could you tell us when that threatening letter was stuck to your back and what you know about this ‘Red Something’ culprit?”
“You got it!”

In stark contrast to his earlier state, Colin now radiates youthful energy and enthusiasm.

And so, with everyone gathered around once more, the investigation into the truth of the case resumed.

1. Syl: Editor’s Note: For those of your concerned, you can skip the first three quarters of everything below, it’s just cooking and more cooking (AKA word warping by the author).
2. Mab: A short explanation for this.

   Japanese has the custom of including one’s entire title/profession when addressing people, and it has something to do with their societal ladder. As you might have known, societal caste is very much a thing in Japanese, and what determines your place in the ladder is your title.

   For example, if you by chance met the president of your company on your day off, you still have to call him “President Hatori (hatori-shachou)” because he is positioned above you. Meanwhile, he doesn’t need to call you by your title or profession, because you are beneath him.

   This also works even if there’s no clear ladder between you. Say Nishimura is a police and he is interrogating a gym couch with the name Yato. Nishimura calls Yato “Couch Yato (Yato-kyoukan)” and Yato calls Nishimura “Officer Nishimura (Nishimura-junsa).” This implies respect that buds from each other’s profession, as well as personal distance as they only see each other for their professions.

   So what happens here is that, at first, Jill addresses Colin for his profession as a reporter, but not only it is tiring to keep saying Reporter every time she says her name, Jill subconsciously thinks of him as either beneath or equal to her.

   …I actually wanted to go on more tangent and explain deeper, but I said it’d be a short explanation.

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