Where there was rice, there was fried rice.
That had always been Jasmine’s mantra ever since she harvested her first batch of rice in her Divine Kitchen back when she was G-69.
Fried rice was one of those dishes that rarely failed, even with only basic seasonings.
Jasmine immediately picked the onion slices from the top of the lamb steak and chopped them finely. The onion’s natural sweetness and sharp, savory bite would have to make up for the garlic she didn’t have.
The knife moved rapidly against the cutting board, its rhythmic tapping echoing through the kitchen and making the three kitchen staff stunned.
Before they could even process what they were seeing, Jasmine had already moved on to the lamb. She sliced the steak thinly and quickly, her knife gliding through the tender meat with practiced precision.
The head chef gasped and clutched his chest.
"What are you doing to that expensive lamb steak? You’re destroying it!"
Jasmine smirked.
"You did your job with the medium-done steak. If I cut it this way, I can still use its remaining juices to add savory depth and make up for the lack of soy sauce."
The head chef’s eyes widened.
"How do you know about the ancient sauce? Is it true that you had some strange dream and saw things that became real?"
"Or maybe she awakened another ability after killing her sister."
The two other kitchen staff immediately turned toward the assistant who had blurted that out.
They glared at him. They had already agreed not to cause trouble with Jasmine. The head of the Sentinel Bureau was enough of a headache.
The rumor that Jasmine had also become the captain’s darling was an even bigger reason to keep their mouths shut.
Jasmine only gave the assistant a small smirk before placing a wok over the stove.
"No. I was studying that," she answered flatly. "In my dream, I saw people eating food with rich, delicious flavors. So I became curious about why we don’t live like that."
Jasmine stated confidently. She’d already learned a bit about the Federation’s history. Apparently, she’d traveled through time and ended up far, far in the future.
Her chest tightened slightly at the realization.
She shook her head, and she poured in the oil and waited until it was hot before tossing in the chopped onion.
Sizzle.
The sound filled the kitchen as the onion hit the hot oil. Within seconds, its sharpness softened into a warm, sweet aroma that spread through the room.
Every head turned toward the wok.
Jasmine kept stirring until the onion turned golden, then added the sliced lamb. She tossed the meat through the onion, letting its juices mingle with the oil.
A rich roasted aroma rose from the wok, warm and savory enough to make several stomachs growl.
Next came a pinch of sugar and black pepper.
Jasmine stirred quickly, letting the sugar melt into the hot oil and lightly caramelize around the lamb and onion while the pepper added a sharp kick to the aroma.
"Did you just put the almighty sugar in there? Why?"
One of the kitchen staff looked genuinely horrified.
Jasmine sighed.
If salt and spices were already rare and expensive, sugar was practically a god in this place. They only used it for expensive drinks like chocolate milk.
"To balance the saltiness." She glanced at their miserable expressions.
They looked as if she had just sacrificed a national treasure.
"I’ll pay you later for the extra salt, sugar, and spices."
She said it so casually that the staff could only stare.
Jasmine gripped the wok handle with her left hand and gave it a sharp shake. The lamb and onions jumped, then settled back into the pan.
The staff froze again.
Jasmine smirked and added the red-bean rice.
The rice tumbled into the wok. She immediately folded it through the lamb and onion, working the heavy mixture with quick, practiced strokes.
The longer she stirred, the heavier her arm felt.
I really need my old body back.
How could stirring seven portions of rice that weigh less than four pounds make her muscles ache?
Pathetic.
She kept going.
After another minute, the rice began turning lightly brown as the seasonings coated each grain. Jasmine added a few more pinches of salt and stirred harder, the spatula striking the wok with rapid metallic clacks that sounded almost like swords colliding.
The kitchen staff watched without blinking.
Jasmine scooped up a little rice and tasted it.
She chewed, considered the flavor, then nodded.
Good.
She immediately divided the fried rice among the plates, turning the batch into ten portions. But there was still some left in the wok. The kitchen staff stared at it, their eyes practically following the remaining rice.
Jasmine noticed, and she pursed her lips.
"I’ll give you one portion. We can consider it payment for the salt, sugar, and spices I used. Deal?"
The head chef and one assistant immediately nodded. Yet, the remaining assistant still looked skeptical. So, the head chef reached over and firmly pushed his head down.
"Deal."
Jasmine smiled in satisfaction and served a portion onto another plate.
But even after that, there was still some rice left in the wok.
Jasmine blinked.
Apparently, she had underestimated how much food the ingredients could produce.
She divided the rest into another portion.
Twelve portions.
Ah. Too bad I can’t take this out.
She glanced toward the remaining fried rice.
I could’ve brought some to Oleander and traded it for letting me sell his name.
Jasmine almost smiled at the thought. Then she heard the kitchen staff behind her.
"Oh God. What’s with this taste?"
"This isn’t just salty."
Jasmine smiled.
Finally.
She arranged the portions onto a tray and glanced at the countdown.
[5:45]
[5:46]
Only a few minutes left.
Jasmine ignored the kitchen staff’s increasingly enthusiastic comments and carried the tray out of the kitchen.
Her eyes immediately found the table belonging to the woman who had annoyed her before she entered the cafeteria.