# Enhanced Translation
When I once reminisced, Krasilov has no seasons except winter.
There's only slightly less cold winter, warm winter, cold winter, and freeze-to-death winter. If you equate them with spring, summer, fall, and winter respectively, the meaning is roughly similar.
Therefore, university vacations are implemented with a concept different from Earth.
If summer vacation in South Korea implies "rest at home when it gets too hot,"
In Krasilov, summer vacation means "spend some time with your family while the weather is somewhat bearable."
Thus, from right after the end of summer vacation, based on the autumn rain that had started falling, Krasilov was entering winter again. (Krasilov's autumn lasts one week.)
"Wow, the weather is truly insane. How do humans wander around outside in this weather?"
"Does time pass faster in this country? Why is it winter already?"
"The maids in our family say that if you hang laundry, it freezes within two hours."
Such lamentations could be heard throughout the campus. Naturally, they came from foreign noble children and elves.
The nobles from Kalion, Tilles, and other small countries came from warm lands. (All countries with harsher climates than this perished in the last war. That's why Krasilov serves as the northern barrier.)
"Hoho, don't you know? This is... 'autumn.'"
"Ah, how clear. I almost feel like getting a tan."
"Is there a magician who knows how to use freezing spells? It's so hot that I want to drink some frozen vodka."
"Sherbets for sale! Perfect for this muggy weather! We have strawberry, grape, and lemon flavors!"
This was typically how Krasilov citizens reacted to foreign first-year students during this season. These people with their peculiar pride would often jeer at students who bundled up in coats.
In this bleak autumn, where rain falls, rainwater freezes at dawn, and gloomy dark clouds always loom overhead.
A student was sitting on a bench at the edge of the campus, shivering. With sunken eyes and chattering teeth, occasionally rubbing their arms and legs.
No, it wasn't just one student.
"My arm, my arm is moving.... I see, so this is a 'nerve'..."
"Neural connection successful, extermination mode activated."
"How can people move their limbs? I can no longer understand... How do they naturally control all those blood vessels, all those joints, all those muscles?"
"I'll tell you the PIN for my national bank account!! If you need anything else, just ask...!! Please stop now...!!"
People with different appearances but similar behaviors were huddled on benches, muttering ominously. These were the strange individuals who had been appearing on campus recently.
What they had in common was that they were all first-year students, and...
"What on earth are they teaching to make them like that..."
"The number of Efemov Syndrome patients has increased again. What did they do in yesterday's class?"
"I heard they numbed the nerves in the right arm with drugs and tried to move it with magical power."
"...That's insane."
They were all students taking two or more classes from Ivan Petrovich Efemov.
Other undergraduates who first encountered this student-patient group called ESP (Efemov Syndrome Patients) had to be grateful for their choice not to register for his classes, with a chilling sensation.
"Eeeek—!! That window...! At the window...!!"
A student collapsed, clutching their head after seeing tree branches swaying by the window. The drooping conifer leaves could indeed look like a beard at a glance.
Watching the scene, Isabelle muttered with a cold expression.
"This won't do. Everyone, gather around."
She needed to draw the ultimate weapon to stop Ivan Petrovich Efemov's rampage. They couldn't allow more ESPs to be produced.
In the eerie September campus of St. Yansk University where madness was spreading, Isabelle finally summoned the Hero Party.
"We're eating at my place tonight."
"Ugh—."
Elfihera, the magician of the Hero Party, retched with drooping ears. However, she too recognized the seriousness of the situation and didn't object further.
"Why? What's going on?"
"Stew and risotto."
"Sounds delicious! Will there be beer too?"
"To rinse your mouth, you'll need something with a stronger flavor than beer... Like lemon soda..."
Lundis, who hadn't experienced "that food" during the festival, quietly tilted her head in confusion.
Stew and risotto, which Yu-jin called "kimchi stew" and "kimchi fried rice." Tofu kimchi had to be excluded as it was absolutely inedible. (Feta cheese should never be eaten with kimchi.)
Side ep. Winter is Kimchi-Making Season (Krasilov is Always Winter)
During the few weeks from after the festival until the tournament period.
Isabelle invited the chefs from "Michelin Fine Dining," which had attempted to sell bizarre food during the festival, accumulated tremendous losses, and sunk.
Yuri, Yu-jin, and Oswald admired this fantasy resident's courage and laughed ominously.
"Hehe, trying to freely exploit our secret recipe that took months to perfect..."
"Is this the average personality in pre-modern Russia?"
"Tilles is closer to France, so I'd prefer you call it Ellan personality."
These three half-crazed individuals from various departments cheerfully cooperated in cultural transmission, occasionally making incomprehensible statements like "Try wrapping Spam in kimchi."
Since that day, a terrible stench never ceased from Isabelle's kitchen. The maids in charge had to attempt alcohol disinfection every night with sorrowful expressions. (They said they understood the feelings of large monster remains collection teams.)
After several days of work, Isabelle finally realized:
"There's a country where people eat this and find it delicious...? Are they demons?"
"Excuse me...?"
"Well, I guess since the professor served in demon territory since wartime, his taste might have... somewhat changed, but what about you all? Why on earth do you eat this?"
"You're... insulting kimchi?"
The three people growled with hostile expressions. Isabelle looked at these strange individuals with contempt and said:
"Since the professor likes it, let's assume there's something good about it. Honestly, I'm not sure if we can find anything good about the professor's taste..."
Judging by what Ivan usually eats, doesn't he chew and swallow greasy, foul-smelling brick-like objects with magic-enhanced jaw strength?
In Isabelle's view, that's a kind of... wartime habit. (It's true.) A food culture that deeply reflects the horrors of war.
But despite that, love overcomes all obstacles.
Excluding those bricks that Elfihera unhesitatingly calls dog food, she wants to feed him real "food" that's warm and full of affection.
The first step is this rotten-vegetable series. Bizarre culinary mechanisms that mix already spoiled ingredients with fresh vegetables and let them spoil again.
It's ambiguous whether to call this cooking or alchemical experimentation. (There's a theory that alchemy began in the kitchen.)
"But don't you think you're a bit strange? Think about it. Wouldn't there be Krasilov cuisine in Tilles? Or Tilles cuisine in Krasilov?"
"...Huh...?"
"Food is supposed to be adapted to suit the food culture of that country. That's common sense."
"My goodness..."
"An Ellan person understanding cultural relativity...?"
Isabelle couldn't understand why Ivan had gathered such lunatics in one place. Do madmen have some power to attract other madmen?
But now she is a hero with the mission to guide one madman to a bright and healthy path.
A hero doesn't mean the strongest person. Traditionally, the title of hero is given to the most courageous.
Isabelle hasn't felt true fear for even a moment since the train terrorist attack. She carefully picked up fermented cabbage topped with Droan-style pickled herring with her index finger and thumb.
"The essence of that 'kimchi' dish you're talking about is this. Basically, you salt vegetables, season them with fermented seafood, chili, and garlic, and let them ferment for days."
"Um... so?"
"We'll use this as a base and integrate it with Krasilov cuisine. These people seem like they've never cooked in their lives."
The lunatics all flinched simultaneously.
For Yu-jin and Oswald, the only cooking they'd ever done as ordinary Korean men was instant ramen, and in this world, they were high nobles. Isn't cooking something that maids bring when you ring a bell?
Yuri was a game illustrator from Earth's perspective. Sadly, people in this profession don't have time for the luxury hobby of cooking. And in Krasilov, she didn't have money to cook. (She was an orphan. Krasilov's orphans gather in slums, except for those in St. Vasilisha Orphanage.)
Looking over these individuals, the pre-modern fantasy resident sighed with a contemptuous expression.
"Nobles, really."
"My goodness..."
"Am I... a noble...?"
Meanwhile, Isabelle was the black sheep of the Tilles royal palace. Before the hero's status rose, she was a hostage; after the hero killed the Demon King, she was the hero's safety device; and after the hero went into seclusion, she was treated as a freeloader.
Living in a mansion near the palace, unable to trust even her personal maid, she had plenty of opportunities to learn cooking directly from her commoner mother.
In a situation where modern people were being treated as lazy, pathetic nobles by an otherworld resident, the three lunatics were thrown into confusion.
"First, let's remove the anchovies. They smell too strong. Instead, let's use syeld (Krasilov-style pickled herring)."
"We've tried pickled herring too! Syeld is too lightly salted, and if we're using herring, we should use surströmming instead..."
"If you're talking about that crazy Droan rotten fish, shut up."
"Yes..."
Isabelle glared at the glass jar of fermented herring with a disgusted expression. That fermented seafood, crawling up from the deepest part of hell, leaves a stench in the kitchen for two weeks once opened.
"We can adjust the saltiness with something else. The professor is a Krasilov person, after all. Would he eat something too salty?"
"Ah..."
But he's Korean...? No, if he lived in Korea for 20 years and here for 30 years, is he a Krasilov person? But then again, he spent 20 years in demon territory... Should he be considered a demon?
Yu-jin fell into confusion while pondering Ivan's nationality.
"Now, we've prepared the basic ingredients, let's start with the stew."
"Isn't that just adding water and boiling...?"
"Sigh..."
As a person from Tilles, which has flourished with brilliant culinary culture, Isabelle looked at this pathetic Krasilov noble and equally pathetic Kalion elf.
Kalion folks are only good at making desserts but have no development in cooking culture. All those pointy-eared people proudly present as cooking is just anchovy pie, isn't it? (It's not.)
On the other hand, Tilles was a cultural and artistic powerhouse, so she had to teach these ignorant food-illiterates what food really is, one by one.
"Watch carefully. We'll use the most common Krasilov stew as a base and mix in these fermented vegetables. Let's start with borscht (a sour cream stew with sausage)."
Before this pre-modern otherworlder with cultural relativity, broad acceptance of foreign cultures, and even creativity, the 21st-century nationalists quietly sank.
Several weeks passed like that. At this point when the vacation had ended, Isabelle decided there was no reason to continue her culinary research.
She had finally completed it.
A Krasilov-Demon Realm style (it's not) fusion cuisine with the stench suppressed to an edible level.
"It's... actually edible?!"
"This is cultural victory, this is national pride."
"Please shut up, everyone. You're making me embarrassed too."
The lunatics trembled. Is this a glimpse of the talent of the hero's daughter? They thought.