Takahashi Yuuki just wanted to perfect a cafeteria sandwich with a squeeze of his beloved mayonnaise. Instead, he found himself yanked into a world made entirely of food—bread mountains, juice rivers, vegetable trees—and a sky gone gray with despair.
In the Sandwich Kingdom, cooking has become a crime. Under the tyrannical Unified Cooking Ordinance, only forty-seven approved recipes are allowed, enforced by ruthless Taste Auditors who drag violators off to the dungeon. Joy has vanished from the
The Magical Chef of Sandwich Kingdom - Rainbow-colored Sandwich — Your Tears Changed the World
The doors of the audience chamber closed.
The stone walls swallowed the sound, and the footsteps in the corridor faded into the distance. Only two remained: Yuuki and Count Toast.
Yuuki slowly turned back to the preparation table. It was an old thing, built into the wall. A thin layer of dust coated its surface—proof it hadn't been used in years. But above the table were ingredient shelves. Bread dough, salted vegetables, dried herbs, a small amount of honey—ingredients untouched by anyone for twelve years, sitting quietly in their places.
(Is this all?)
Honestly, it wasn't much. If he failed, there would be no second chances.
That was when a sound reached him from the corridor.
A low, groaning hum—Zuuuuu... The sickening noise of corrosive miasma brushing against stone walls. Then came Momo's shout.
"It's here, it's here, it's here—everyone scatter!!"
Red King's short "Don't step forward." Caramel Hime's small voice, as if calling out "Yuuki-san"—the moment he heard it through the door, Yuuki's hand paused for just a moment.
(They're all fighting.)
He wanted to turn around. He wanted to throw open the door and run out. But Yuuki kept facing forward and didn't move.
"...I believe in them."
It surprised even him that he said it aloud, but the words were real. Those three would find a way. So he would do what he needed to do here.
Yuuki straightened up in front of the preparation table.
What surfaced in his mind was the writing on that wall.
It was a long time ago. When he'd been hiding in the ruined kitchen—a forgotten cooking space—in a back alley of Glatine's castle town, he'd found faint characters carved into the wall. There, a recipe left by a younger Brion Crust.
"Mother's Fresh-Baked Bread (Secret Ingredient: Honey and Love)"
That was all. A single line, a short note. But the feelings of the person who wrote it were certainly there.
(You used to love cooking for someone.)
Yuuki picked up the small bottle of honey. It was old and the lid had stiffened, but it opened when he put strength into it. A sweet fragrance drifted softly past his nose.
(Twelve years ago, at the All-Taste Festival—the greatest culinary festival in the Gourmet Otherworld—you failed. In front of thousands. They laughed at you.)
He dabbed just a tiny bit of honey on his fingertip and began working it into the bread dough. Carefully, over and over, again and again.
(But it wasn't the failure itself—it was being laughed at that broke you.)
From the corridor came a BOOM! of an explosion. Then Red King's voice, shouting "Flame-Spice Heat Wave—!" But the next instant, a sound like something being sucked in. Momo's voice followed, screaming, "It's not hitting! The miasma's absorbing all of it!"
Yuuki didn't stop his hands.
He glanced toward the throne. Count Toast stood with his arms crossed, watching Yuuki's back. The cold sneer was unchanged. But—Yuuki could see it. The count's fingertips were quietly tapping the armrest of his chair. Tap. Tap.
(He's wavering.)
That small motion told a story.
◆
In the corridor, the three faced the Mold General.
The corrosive miasma—a gray-green gas emitted from the Mold General's entire body, with the power to rot any ingredient within a twenty-meter radius in an instant—was staining the stone walls of the corridor gray.
Red King slammed a Flame-Spice Heat Wave straight into it. Zubaan! The impact echoed through the corridor. But the miasma swallowed it. Momo unleashed a barrage of fruit. Peaches and oranges flew at high speed, but the moment they touched the miasma, they rotted and splattered.
"Why isn't anything working!?"
Caramel Hime drew the small bottle at her hip—her special caramel sauce, infused with the magic of sweetness. It was the last one. Made from the nectar of a rare flower called honeybloom sugar, it couldn't be mass-produced. Even so, she opened the lid without hesitation and raised a barrier. The golden wall pushed the miasma back.
Thirty seconds.
Twenty seconds.
Ten seconds—the barrier began to dissolve.
The three took a step back. None of them said aloud that their knees had started to shake.
"...There's nothing left to do."
Red King said it quietly. The voice of a man who had won hundreds of cooking battles in that blazing colosseum faltered for the first time.
That was when Momo grabbed a burlap sack.
Inside the sack—unused fruit candies. Among the provisions they'd carried on their journey, it was stuffed full of ones too small to use as projectiles. Hard candies, lumps of solidified molasses, high-concentration honey drops.
Momo looked at them for a single moment, then, with the momentum of someone throwing away a losing hand, hurled the entire contents at the Mold General.
"To hell with it!!"
Zabaaaa!!!
The candies rained down on the Mold General like a storm.
The next instant—the miasma stopped.
The candies stuck to the Mold General's body, and the high-concentration sugar clogged the vents the miasma was emitted from. The gray-green gas thinned before their eyes.
The three stood frozen, eyes wide.
Silence for three seconds.
"...Why is it working? I'm the most surprised out of all of us!?"
Red King, still with his back against the wall, crossed his arms with a completely serious face.
"So anything sweet will work, then."
"Where did you find the composure to analyze that just now!?"
Caramel Hime let out a small breath.
"But... once they melt, the miasma will come back, won't it?"
Indeed, the candies had already begun to slowly dissolve. They couldn't hold it back for long. The three straightened up and kept holding on, maintaining the narrowest possible distance.
◆
In the audience chamber, Yuuki's hands kept moving.
He layered the herbs. Arranged the salted vegetables carefully. Trimmed the edges of the bread dough.
With so few ingredients, all he could do was pour his heart into each and every step. Don't rush. Don't hurry. Think only of the person who will eat this dish.
(The count hasn't eaten a single meal in twelve years.)
A resident of the Gourmet Otherworld—a world where everything is composed of ingredients and cuisine—hadn't eaten food for twelve years. What did that even mean?
(He failed at the All-Taste Festival, was laughed at, and closed off his heart.)
Yuuki stopped just before stacking the bread.
(When I smiled at him—when I first came to the audience chamber—there was something in his eyes. Just for a moment, I thought I saw the same light as someone who once had a passion for cooking.)
The final step. One more drop of honey, traced along the seam of the bread.
The secret ingredient.
I want him to feel the joy of cooking once more—he poured only that feeling into it.
The sandwich was complete.
That was the moment.
From the sandwich on the plate, an orange light began to leak out. Far stronger than any light he'd seen before. Far warmer than any light he'd seen before.
Before his eyes, it turned rainbow-colored.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue—seven colors of light spread through the entire audience chamber, dyeing the stone ceiling. The floor trampled by the Mustard Soldiers, the cracked window frames, the soiled walls—everything was wrapped in rainbow light. It was the largest-scale activation of taste magic yet.
"..."
Yuuki held the plate with trembling hands. His legs were shaking a little, but he walked.
He walked to the throne.
The count was standing. At some point, he had risen to his feet. The sneer was still there. But the moment the rainbow light fell across the count's face—his expression stopped.
Yuuki silently held out the plate.
The count's cold gray eyes looked at the plate. Looked at the sandwich. At it, wavering in the rainbow light.
"...What a ridiculous farce."
The words came out. But deep within his voice, something was faintly shaking.
Slowly, the count's hand reached out. It was trembling. That hand, which had lived forty-five years, was trembling like a child's.
He took the sandwich.
He took a bite.
The audience chamber fell silent.
From the count's eyes—a single tear rolled down.
◆
In the corridor, at that very moment, light raced through.
The rainbow light spilling from the gap in the audience chamber doors filled the corridor, and the Mold General's body began to be wrapped in light. Its gray-green giant form slowly dissolved into the light. The miasma vanished. The stench of rot vanished.
Momo took a step back.
"...Huh? It's gone?"
Red King looked at the audience chamber doors.
"...Light, from the castle..."
Caramel Hime gently touched the door. Her eyes were turned toward the light.
◆
In the audience chamber, the count's knees gave way.
He quietly collapsed before the throne. The plate still in his hands. In the rainbow light, his long dark-brown hair spread across the floor.
Yuuki knelt. He matched the count's eye level.
The count opened his mouth.
"...I was afraid. Of being laughed at."
His voice was hoarse. Words he hadn't spoken to anyone in twelve years.
"I failed in front of thousands... I had never been laughed at like that. When I cook, I remember. When I hold a knife, I remember. So... I threw it away. All of it."
The count's eyes looked at Yuuki. Those cold gray eyes now held a different color.
Yuuki spoke quietly.
"If you fail, you can just make it again, as many times as it takes. That's what cooking is, I think."
"..."
"Your recipe was on the wall of that forgotten kitchen. 'Mother's Fresh-Baked Bread, secret ingredient: honey and love.' The person who wrote that—must have loved cooking for someone."
The count bowed his head again. Tears fell onto the rim of the plate.
That was when the doors opened.
Momo came flying in. A little blood was seeping through. Red King followed—this time without hitting his head. Last of all, Caramel Hime stepped in quietly.
The three of them saw Yuuki and the count in the light, and stopped.
Momo froze in the doorway.
"...Somehow, it's already over."
Red King, pressing the bump on his head, said with a completely straight face.
"Everything that's happened since I hit my head—none of it was a dream, right?"
Only Caramel Hime answered politely.
"It was not a dream."
After a while—the count spoke in a trembling voice.
"...I hereby repeal the Unified Cooking Decree."
In that instant, the light coming through the windows of Crouton Castle changed.
The gray clouds in the sky began to break apart, soundlessly. The dark clouds that had covered the Gourmet Otherworld for twelve years. Sunlight poured down through the gaps, illuminating the land. Outside the window, they could see the color of the grass changing. The withered ingredients were regaining their vivid colors.
No one said anything.
They just watched that light.
◆
The news that the Unified Cooking Decree had been repealed spread across all of Glatine in an instant.
People came pouring out of the gray Market Street in the castle town. The Rainbow Market Street, which hadn't been called by its proper name for twelve years, reclaimed its true name today for the first time. Makeshift cooking stations began lining the plaza, and people ran off with ingredients in hand. Everywhere, pots were set, fires were lit, and smiles spread.
Yuuki and the others stood at the center of the plaza.
Without anyone saying so, the four of them surrounded a preparation table. There was no division of roles. No instructions. Only their hands moving.
Caramel Hime spread the remaining honey in a thin layer. Red King wordlessly tore the bread dough with gusto, yet still carefully aligned the cut edges. Momo quickly arranged the vegetables—with the hands of a pastry chef, oddly meticulous.
Yuuki stacked the final piece of bread.
The Friendship Sandwich was complete.
Light rose from the sandwich on the plate. A rainbow-colored pillar stretched straight up toward the sky. Everyone in the plaza looked up. Smiles spread across their faces. One person, two, ten, a hundred—cheers rose f
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