“To put it bluntly, Yuma-san, you are in danger.”
The next morning, at a small cafe in the village, Riko Hayase said that right off the bat.
The name of the shop was Cafe Komorebi.
It was a restaurant converted from an old folk house, where the thickness of the beams and the scratches on the pillars remained untouched. Bundles of dried herbs hung by the windows, and the scent of coffee quietly sent up steam from behind the counter.
From the fields outside, the scent of morning dew and soil drifted in.
In such a peaceful space, I was being judged straight to my face.
“In danger, you say?”
“In danger. Defenceless. Careless. Also, somewhat unbelievable.”
“That last part hurts.”
“It is a place that deserves to hurt.”
Riko-san rested her elbows on the counter and tapped my smartphone screen lightly with her finger.
The screen displayed yesterday’s streaming archive.
The frozen trout caught near the abandoned mine.
That was the scene where the fish with silver-blue scales was grilled over charcoal, its skin bursting crisply, and transparent fat oozing out from the inside.
The comments section continued to grow on its own even now.
What is this fish, it looks so delicious. You can tell how good it is by how the cat deity eats. I subscribed to Countryside Monster Cafeteria. Are you really an other-world returnee? Where is this location? I want to go.
Seeing the last comment, Riko-san’s eyebrows twitched.
“Look at this.”
“People are asking for the location, aren’t they?”
“Yuma-san, you showed quite a bit of the road to the abandoned mine in yesterday’s stream, didn’t you?”
“Ah, well, enough for the villagers to recognize.”
“People who are not from the village can figure it out, too.”
When she said that, I had no words to reply.
I had thought of streaming merely as an extension of cooking and eating.
Of course, I was happy that people were watching. When people in the comments said it looked delicious, it felt like my heat control was being praised, so it did not feel bad.
However, what Riko-san was looking at seemed a little different from me.
“Showing your face is the same. Yuma-san, you have far too little resistance to showing your own face.”
“It is not like my face is anything worth hiding.”
“That is not the issue.”
She said it sharply.
Mikoto, who had been curled up on the counter, opened just one eye.
“Meow.”
That was probably a meow meaning I was in the wrong.
“Even Mikoto.”
“The divine cat deity understands.”
“Meow.”
Mikoto swished her tail with satisfaction.
Riko-san smiled faintly before immediately returning to a serious expression.
“Face, voice, where you live, places you frequent, human relationships. If you keep streaming, those things leak out bit by bit. It is not just bad people, but it is not just good intentions either. Also, you will be clipped without permission. You will be flamed without permission. Stories will be made up about you without permission.”
“Stories.”
“Just the phrase ‘an other-world returnee banished by a false charge’ is quite a strong buzzword.”
Hearing it said about myself made me feel quite uncomfortable.
To me, it was simply the past.
I returned to this world, could not navigate things well, and was abandoned by the people I thought were comrades. My attempts at explanation did not reach them, and before I knew it, I had drifted into the countryside.
That was all there was to it.
However, to someone through a screen, it probably held a different meaning.
“Then, should I quit streaming?”
When I asked, Riko-san fell silent for just a moment.
A drop of coffee fell plump into the server.
“If you want to quit, you should quit. But if you want to do it, you should set things up properly.”
“Set things up.”
“First, do not force yourself to show your face. If you film, focus on your hands and the cooking. Avoid scenery that pinpoints your location. Always get permission when filming villagers. Set banned words for the comments section and delete weird ones. Do not engage. Also, if you are going to monetize, look into rights issues as well.”
“Rights.”
“BGM. Images. Shop names. Materials. People’s faces. Also, if you are going to sell monster ingredients, permits for gathering and distribution might get involved, too. Wasn’t that part of why the Guild made a fuss?”
“I see.”
I nodded honestly.
About half of it was things I only realized after being told.
In the other world, danger usually took the form of fangs, claws, or poison. You could see it. All you had to do was avoid it, slash it, or burn it.
But the danger here was hard to see.
A single line in the comments section. A short video. A rumor with no name.
Riko-san probably knew that such things could easily chip away at a person’s life.
“Riko-san, you are very knowledgeable.”
“When I lived in the city, I used to do video editing work.”
She said it offhandedly.
“Videos for corporate projects, managing clips for streamers, firefighting materials for channels that got flamed, and so on. Well, various things.”
“Firefighting materials.”
“Please pretend you did not hear that.”
“Yes.”
It was a voice that suggested I should not dig deeper.
Riko-san opened her laptop and efficiently operated the screen.
“For now, I will fix the channel description. Contact information will be a dedicated email. Do not write the village address. Check the comment settings, too. Also, the thumbnail is weak.”
“The thumbnail.”
“For yesterday’s frozen trout, why did you use the pitch-black abandoned mine entrance as the thumbnail with that grill mark?”
“I thought it looked like an anomaly investigation.”
“It is a cooking channel, right?”
“Yes.”
“Show the fish. Show the fat. Show Mikoto-sama’s pressure.”
“Meow.”
Mikoto puffed out her chest.
Riko-san turned her smartphone toward me.
The screen displayed a single image cut from yesterday’s footage.
Above the charcoal fire, the skin of the frozen trout was slightly warped, and the silver-blue scales took on a translucent quality from the heat. Through the gaps in the cracked skin, white meat and clear fat gleamed. Beside it, Mikoto was standing on her tiptoes, staring intently at the fish.
Certainly, this looked much more delicious.
“This is amazing.”
“The materials are just good. Both the cooking and the cat.”
“And me?”
“Defenceless.”
“My evaluation has been locked in.”
Hearing that, Riko-san smiled as if she was having a little fun.
That afternoon, we decided to make a limited menu item using the frozen trout.
Yesterday’s catch had mostly been eaten by Mikoto, but a portion reserved for the village mayor and a little set aside for testing remained.
Unlike the barn kitchen, the kitchen at Cafe Komorebi was clean and well-organized. Polished stainless steel counters, well-used frying pans, and jars of herbs. Riko-san’s movements were closer to an efficient editor than a cook.
“What is the menu name?”
“How about ‘Frozen Trout Herb Butter Grilling Set Meal’?”
“It is strong, but too long. On the blackboard, let’s put ‘Frozen Trout Herb Butter’.”
“Doesn’t the set meal feel disappear?”
“I will convey it through photos.”
Pragmatic.
I lightly sprinkled salt on the meat of the frozen trout.
Miraculously, this fish retained a refreshing sensation in its meat, just like it had been freshly caught in a cold river. It had fat, yet it was not heavy. When I applied the knife, a soft chill drifted from the tip of the blade, and a thin mist fell onto my hand.
“It really is like magic.”
“In reality, it is slightly imbued with magical power.”
“I wonder what the food labeling for that is going to be.”
“I never thought about it.”
“Please think about it.”
“Yes.”
Riko-san dropped butter into the frying pan.
With a sizzle, fine white bubbles rose.
I placed the fish in. Skin side down.
The moment it touched, the aroma spread through the kitchen.
The sweet scent of butter. The savory fragrance of grilling skin. The clear scent unique to frozen trout, reminiscent of melting snow. When Riko-san added chopped rosemary and dill, a fresh green aroma rose up, lightly lifting the fish’s fat.
I scooped the hot butter with a spoon and poured it over the meat repeatedly.
The white meat plumped up, and a golden film formed on the surface. The skin hardened into a crisp texture at the edges, sounding as if it would crunch if touched with chopsticks.
The side dish was mashed village potatoes.
Made smooth with milk and butter, mixed with just a tiny bit of miso. Blending otherworldly ingredients with the flavors of the village. That was probably what I wanted to do right now.
“It goes well with both rice and bread.”
“If it is a set meal, it is rice.”
“If it is a cafe, I want to serve bread, too.”
“Then let’s make it a choice.”
“That increases the workload.”
“But it makes me happy.”
Riko-san thought for a single moment, then shrugged her shoulders.
“Then, in limited quantities.”
The letters written in chalk on the blackboard drew people in much faster than expected.
The first to arrive were Mr. Shibata and his wife, returning from the fields.
“Oh, so this is the rumored fish.”
“I heard Mikoto-sama ate the whole thing, but there was some left over.”
“Meow.”
Mikoto, who had been curled up in the corner of the shop, meowed smugly for some reason.
Next, a young employee from the post office arrived. Furthermore, a villager who had been shopping in the neighboring town returned, bringing along an acquaintance who had seen the stream.
By past noon, two unfamiliar cars were parked in the cafe’s parking lot.
“They really came.”
Riko-san muttered while looking out the window.
Inside the shop, the scents of butter, grilled fish, and coffee overlapped.
Every time a plate was placed in front of a customer, the exact same reaction occurred.
First, they fell silent from the aroma.
Next, their eyes widened at the crisp sound the moment the knife cut into the skin.
And when they brought the meat to their mouths, the tension left their shoulders.
“Delicious.”
“What is this, it’s a river fish yet there is no fishy odor at all.”
“The fat is sweet, but the aftertaste is refreshing.”
“The potato miso goes so well together.”
Just hearing those voices warmed the depths of my chest a little.
Guests had come to the village for the first time in a while.
It was not that someone was making a loud ruckus. However, the presence of people in the shop increased, the sound of plates chimed, and more coffee was brewed. Every time that happened, it felt as though the dormant place was slowly breathing back to life.
Although she moved about busily, Riko-san took pictures with her smartphone at every opening.
“Is it okay to use this for today’s stream?”
“Is that fine?”
“Promotion is necessary. But do not film the people inside the shop. Just the food. Also, do not hype up customer visits too much. The number of ingredients is limited, and it will cause trouble for the village.”
“Understood.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
When I nodded, Riko-san narrowed her eyes dubiously.
“Then, if someone asks for the location in the comments?”
“I will not give out the exact location. I will discuss business information with Riko-san.”
“If a villager is about to be filmed?”
“Lower the camera.”
“If strange comments come in?”
“Do not engage. Delete them. Block if necessary.”
“Good.”
For some reason, I was graded.
Mikoto put her front paws on the counter and stared at the plate.
“We are not serving Mikoto-sama. You ate too much yesterday.”
“Meow.”
“Protesting will not work.”
When Riko-san said that flatly, Mikoto looked over at me.
It was a look pleading for help.
“Just a little bit of the meat from the edge.”
“Yuma-san.”
“Yes.”
I straightened my posture.
In the end, I grilled a small scrap piece set aside before seasoning and served it to Mikoto.
Mikoto devoured it in an instant and licked the empty plate with apparent reluctance.
By evening, the limited menu item was sold out.
When Riko-san erased the letters on the blackboard, spontaneous applause broke out from the villagers inside the shop.
“Well, it has been lively for the first time in a while.”
“Do it again, Yuma-kun.”
“I am worried about the abandoned mine issue too, but having bright stories like this helps.”
At those words, I bowed deeply.
“I will do it again whenever I get more ingredients.”
It was not that I wanted revenge.
It was not that I wanted to rub something in the faces of the people who abandoned me.
I just wanted to make something delicious and have someone smile.
That alone gave today a proper meaning.
Being able to feel that way was something I was grateful for right now.
After closing, Riko-san sat at the counter and let out a soft sigh while checking the sales.
“Starting a regional revitalization might just begin from an entrance like this.”
“Isn’t that an exaggeration?”
“It is not an exaggeration. People came. Money was spent. The villagers were happy. This is a proper change.”
She raised her head and looked straight at me.
“That is precisely why we must protect it. Yuma-san yourself, Mikoto-sama, and this village.”
“Yes.”
This time, I nodded properly.
“Riko-san, will you cooperate with me? If it is just me, streaming is probably quite reckless.”
“Not probably, it is definitely reckless.”
“You say that outright.”
“I do. But I will cooperate.”
Riko-san relaxed the corners of her mouth just a little bit.
“In exchange, if you get ingredients, bring some to our shop as well. I will turn them into a proper menu item.”
“Of course.”
“Also, do not arbitrarily change the thumbnail to some weird abandoned mine.”
“Yes.”
“Do not put words like ‘shocking’ or ‘must watch’ in the titles.”
“I will not.”
“Stop Mikoto-sama from overeating.”
“That might be difficult.”
“Meow.”
Mikoto let out a low meow.
Even Riko-san could only wryly smile at that part.
That night, I returned to the barn kitchen and posted today’s short video.
The frozen trout on the plate.
The crisp skin breaking apart.
The white meat wrapped in steam.
The aroma of village potatoes and miso.
My face was not shown, and the location was blurred out. The comment section settings were also set up exactly as Riko-san had taught me.
Right after posting, reactions started pouring in.
The food terrorism is too strong. You served that at the shop? The villagers are so lucky. What about the cat deity’s share? Countryside Monster Cafeteria is getting its act together.
I looked at the last comment and smiled a little.
Getting its act together.
That was probably thanks to Riko-san.
At the same time.
In a high-rise condominium room in the city, Ren Kurose was clutching his smartphone.
On the screen, Yuma’s video was playing.
The comments section was lined with praise, and the subscriber count had increased once more.
“Why.”
Kurose’s voice was low and clouded.
The man they had discarded.
The man they had decided could do nothing, onto whom they had pinned their crimes, and whom they should have banished beyond their field of vision.
Far from being laughed at in the countryside, that man was being thanked.
He was being valued.
He was being sought after.
Kurose could not forgive that.
“Don’t get full of yourself.”
He opened his laptop.
Inside the storage folder were old footage and audio, lined with conveniently clipped materials.
In the title idea column, Kurose slowly typed out the characters.
Former Comrade Exposes True Face of Countryside Streamer Yuma Kamishiro
Kurose twisted his mouth into a sneer.
“If you were lifted up by streaming, I will crush you through streaming.”
On the dark screen, the timeline of the editing software stretched onward.