"I never thought things would become like this after my death." Although Enkidu had learned from Siduri about the Three Goddesses, the demonic beasts attacking the city, and a series of other events, he was still more willing to hear Gilgamesh say it personally.
Gentle as he was, he could not help but sigh.
It made one feel somewhat sympathetic.
"What are you blaming yourself for out of nowhere?! Raise your head for me! This is not your fault, so why are you carrying such feelings?!"
When Gilgamesh saw Enkidu like this, his expression became extremely displeased and angry.
"If I had not chosen to anger the gods back then, would Uruk's future have been a little better?"
Enkidu's words made Gilgamesh's expression turn very angry.
The proud king slapped the table hard, staring straight at his friend.
"Enkidu, i originally thought you had made some progress. Now it seems i thought too much!" Gilgamesh spoke in an extremely arrogant and cold voice.
"Uruk's destruction was inevitable! This is not something any choice could have changed. Even without the Three Goddesses, even without the demonic beasts, Uruk was destined to face its destruction in this era. Perhaps it would have been a flood, or perhaps an earthquake, but the result would not have changed. The only thing that could change was the process in between.
However, even if Uruk is destroyed, its spirit and will shall forever be carved into human history and passed down. As long as humanity exists for even one more day, Uruk shall remain engraved there, undying.
Enkidu! Remember your identity! You are nothing more than a weapon belonging only to me! None of the blame needs to be borne by you! If angering the gods makes you, who have now seen the future, feel guilty, then that too was my decision! Since it was a decision made by me, then all consequences need only be borne by me alone! What does it have to do with you?!"
To outsiders, Gilgamesh's words might have sounded difficult to understand, but these were words meant specifically for his one and only dearest friend.
What he considered was never whether others understood him.
His arrogance, his recklessness, his tyranny—it was enough for just one person to understand!
Enkidu looked at the proud King of Heroes, and his green eyes trembled slightly.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint curve, and his dejected expression turned into a bit of a smile.
"I never expected you be the one lecturing me." His voice sounded relaxed, as though he had set down some kind of burden.
This made the King of Heroes' expression soften, bringing a trace of pride to his face.
"Hmph! As if this king has not lectured you many times before!"
The King of Heroes' words made Enkidu smile with his eyes. "I won't argue with you this time. I'll let you have this one."
"How noisy! You make it sound as if i'm some child being looked after by you!"
In a certain sense, the gentle Enkidu and the proud Gilgamesh really did resemble an elder brother yielding to and taking care of an immature younger brother.
But in reality, the relationship between the two was far more complicated.
Under heaven and upon earth, each was the only person who could understand the other.
If one had to force a comparison, they were each other's one and only kindred spirit.
When this conversation reached the ears of the others in the small restaurant, it stirred up all sorts of emotions.
Even Yuto, who was in the kitchen, could not help feeling deeply moved.
In one lifetime, if a person could have such an intimate and understanding friend, that would naturally be extremely satisfying and joyful.
"Tohru, serve the dish!" Yuto called out.
The dry-fried mushrooms were finished, and since he still had to prepare Siduri's meal, he needed Tohru to carry the plate out.
The dragon maid happily came in, took the plate, and walked over to Gilgamesh.
Before the king could taste it, Enkidu took a bite ahead of him.
"Hey! Enkidu!"
"As expected, it's delicious! As expected of you Kamisaka!" Facing the angry King of Heroes, Enkidu directly ignored him and praised Yuto instead.
Stifled for a moment, Gilgamesh gave a muffled snort and said nothing more.
He then tasted a bite as well. His expression turned surprised, then a bit more pleased.
"Indeed, not bad. A dish like this is worthy of a king! Hahahaha!" Gilgamesh laughed quite happily.
Naturally, Yuto heard that completely undisguised statement from the kitchen, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a helpless smile.
Composing himself, he continued preparing Siduri's dish.
Since she wanted something light, Yuto naturally had many choices.
Thinking of how she had worked busily for an entire day, he knew she was definitely very hungry.
In that case, ordinary dishes like vegetable salad wouldn't do. For food that was both filling and light, noodles were better.
Noodles came from wheat, a crop first distributed in the Mesopotamian region.
Speaking of which, Mesopotamia happened to be the land of ancient Uruk. If he made noodles, Siduri would likely accept them more easily.
Before making the dry-fried mushrooms for Gilgamesh, Yuto had placed the dough in a basin to rest.
It was only a single serving of noodles—slightly larger than an adult's fist—so making it was simple and very quick.
Although this amount of dough looked small, it was much more filling than the same amount of rice.
Yuto placed it on the cutting board, dusted it with a thin layer of flour, and kneaded the dough open.
Kneading dough was a skill. In his homeland, the culinary profession was divided into red-board and white-board work.
Red-board chefs handled pan-frying, stir-frying, boiling, deep-frying, and the countless transformations of chicken, duck, fish, meat, and vegetables.
Chefs of this type were usually the main cooks in hotels and restaurants, and many high-end main dishes came from the red-board school.
White-board work, on the other hand, was the ultimate pursuit of dough.
Broad in scope but specialized in focus, they devoted themselves solely to flour-based foods.
Dumplings, stuffed buns, steamed buns, pastries, noodles, and so on—these were the specialties of white-board chefs.
Most chefs of this kind formed their own schools and opened their own shops to attract customers.
At the very peak of white-board cooking, the dishes found there were not inferior to red-board cooking at all.
Both red-board and white-board cooking emphasized skill with the hands.
Comparatively speaking, the hand skills of white-board cooking leaned more toward testing the chef's physical strength and technique.
If one wanted to truly handle a lump of dough properly, it was extremely tiring.
When he had first studied cooking, most chefs chose one path to specialize in.
But later, Yuto became stubborn.
He wanted to walk a path that integrated all kinds of cuisine, so he specialized in white-board cooking as well.
That was why he could make things like flower cakes.
Now, after undergoing various enhancements, Yuto's control over his body was more than ten times stronger than before, meaning his white-board techniques had naturally improved as well.
His hands formed palms, pressing down lightly on the dough beneath them, then gently rubbing it.
Along with his movements, the dough made a few soft puffing sounds as the air inside was squeezed out.
The dough moved with his hands, turning into a long strip.
Yuto held one end in each hand.
Lifting it, he used the strength of his wrists to shake the dough up and down.
When the motion became relatively wide, his hands suddenly crossed.
The dough spun and twisted in midair.
Doing this continuously increased its chewiness. After looping it several times, Yuto felt the dough's condition.
It was already extremely strong. Next, it could be pulled!
Yuto passed the end of the dough in his right hand to his left hand.
At this moment, the dough looked like a rope coiled into a circle in midair. He reached his hand through the gap and pulled.
One strand became two.
Repeating the same method, two strands became four.
Gradually, the noodles grew finer and finer, scattering a glossy sheen in the air like threads of silk!
This was enough.
Yuto placed them into the pot of boiling water to make clear broth noodles.
After that, all he needed to do was slightly adjust the soup base.
Since it was a clear broth, there was no need to use too many extra things for decoration.
The key to clear broth noodles was still the noodles themselves, having abandoned a rich soup base, the noodles naturally needed to shine!