Chapter 34: The Crowned Sandwich and a Name Called Yura

1.

‘What should I make for lunch?’

Various recipes flashed through my mind, but first, I needed to check the fridge.

‘…Nothing.’

Yesterday’s cooking had wiped out all the ingredients.

Time to go grocery shopping.

“Noona, I’m heading to the mart!”

I grabbed an eco-bag and slipped on my shoes.

Stepping outside, I headed to the nearby mart.

‘Something light for lunch would be good.’

Something Noona could eat while editing. One dish came to mind.

‘Sandwich.’

The problem? Too many kinds.

The classic BLT—crisp bacon, fresh lettuce, ripe tomatoes. Simple yet solid.

Panini, pressed and grilled to warm perfection.

Pastrami sandwich, piled high with thinly sliced pastrami on rye.

Every culture, class, and taste had its own take.

Simple on the surface, sandwiches were a deep culinary world.

‘Which one should I make?’

What would Noona love? For health, a chicken breast club sandwich would be safe, but—

‘That’s not her style.’

Too heavy, it’s overwhelming; too light, it’s disappointing. Best to make something she’d adore.

‘Got it.’

I headed to the dairy section.

Next to the milk, various cheeses lined the shelves.

I picked a block of cheese and tossed it in the cart.

‘Grilled cheese sandwich it is.’

Just bread, butter, and cheese.

Simple, but with care, that simplicity becomes profound.

Noona loves cheese, so a grilled cheese sandwich was a perfect choice.

‘Butter, bread, cheese grater.’

With few ingredients needed, I finished shopping quickly. Eco-bag in hand, I headed home.

Kicking off my shoes, I went straight to the kitchen, tied on an apron, and unpacked the groceries.

“Let’s do this.”

I grabbed two slices of bread.

Using magic, I slightly melted some butter and spread it evenly with a knife.

Scrape, scrape—

Coating both sides of the bread, I pulled out the grater and shredded the cheese block.

A nutty aroma wafted up .

Gulp—

I sprinkled a generous handful of grated cheese on the buttered bread, covered it with another slice, and pressed lightly to secure it.

“Oh, right.”

I pulled out a pan and set it on low heat. While it warmed, I prepped my portion.

‘Good to go.’

Holding my hand over the pan, I felt gentle heat. Perfect temperature.

I placed the sandwich on the pan and set a pot on top to weigh it down.

Anything that pressed evenly would do.

‘Three minutes.’

I counted in my head, watching the sandwich cook.

The savory butter scent made my stomach rumble.

After three minutes, I lifted the pot and flipped the sandwich, cooking the other side for another three.

“Done.”

Three minutes per side made a perfect grilled cheese sandwich.

But that felt a bit plain, didn’t it?

I grated more cheese and sprinkled it across the pan.

As it sizzled and melted, I placed the sandwich back on.

Once the cheese melted, the fat would render, enhancing the flavor.

I decided to add one more touch.

‘Chili powder should work.’

Cayenne pepper would be ideal, but a local mart wouldn’t have it. Chili powder would do.

I dusted a pinch of fine chili powder over the cheese.

It tinted slightly red, but not noticeably.

‘Almost ready…’

As the cheese fully melted, I nudged the sandwich gently.

Then, using a spatula, I carefully lifted it.

After about 30 seconds, the cheese hardened into a crisp crust.

Flipping it revealed a crown-like cheese crust.

I repeated the process on the other side, coating it in cheese to finish the dish.

“Noona!”

After completing my sandwich, I called her. She soon shuffled into the kitchen.

“Wow, what’s that smell? It’s amazing!”

Noona grinned, sitting at the table.

I placed the sandwich on a cutting board and set it before her.

“The sandwich is wearing a crown?”

She chuckled at the sight.

I peeled off a piece of the cheese crust and handed it to her. Her eyes widened as she ate it.

“Whoa, this is so rich!”

“The cheese melts, the oil seeps out, and the flavor condenses.”

Smiling, I used magic to slice the sandwich diagonally.

Golden cheese oozed from the cut.

“Wow…”

Noona stared, mesmerized.

“Art, right?”

“Total art. No grilled cheese sandwich could be more perfect.”

Probably true, since I followed a renowned chef’s recipe.

I handed her a piece. She took it without hesitation.

“Let’s eat!”

She took a big bite. Cheese flowed like juice, smearing her mouth.

A long strand stretched from the sandwich.

Chewing, she slurped the cheese like spaghetti.

‘My turn.’

I grabbed the other half and took a big bite.

The crisp cheese crust and toasted bread crunched, making me smile.

As I chewed, the cheese stormed my mouth.

Its thick, chewy saltiness and bold flavor nearly overwhelmed me.

Just as the richness got heavy, the chili powder’s spice cut through, refreshing my palate.

‘This is insane…’

Could there be a more perfect grilled cheese sandwich?

The ultimate richness and saltiness blended flawlessly.

“Noona, want cola?”

She nodded mid-bite.

I grabbed two cans from the fridge, placing one in front of her and cracking mine open.

Gulp, gulp—

The fizzy cola hit my heavy, rich mouth like lightning, electrifying from tongue to throat.

My body shivered.

‘This is cheating…’

My throat stung, but I couldn’t stop. I drained the entire can.

“Ughhh…”

My throat burned, tears pricked my eyes. It hurt, yet felt liberating.

With my mouth refreshed, the sandwich beckoned again. I reached for it, entranced.

For a while, only the sounds of biting sandwiches and opening cans filled the air.

“Phew, well eaten…”

We finally stopped after devouring everything.

“…Don’t make this for a while.”

Noona, leaning back with a serious face, looked dreamy and languid.

“Yeah.”

This needed sealing. A dangerously addictive sandwich.

“So, who’s this Yura? You said you’d explain over lunch.”

“Oh, right. Got distracted by the sandwich.”

Sipping her cola, Noona began.

“Yura’s a YouTuber…”

She explained who Yura was, what happened to her, and why she brought it up.

“…That’s the gist.”

“So, she got unfairly flamed for losing to me.”

“Yeah. In a way, we caused her trouble, so I wanted to mention it.”

“Coldly speaking, it’s not my fault.”

I just played hard. What’s wrong with that? But was Yura at fault? No.

“From her teammates’ view, losing due to a jungle gap sucks. They lost LP.”

But that’s judging by results. They were just lucky not to face me.

If I’d been in another lane, could they have beaten me? I’d bet no.

“Yura was just unlucky. The toxic swarm attacking her was like a natural disaster.”

Life’s like that. I ended up in another world because of bad luck, too.

“So, we have no responsibility?”

“Not zero. I think there’s some moral responsibility. Her getting flamed and the situation itself stemmed from me.”

I sipped the last of my cola.

Now lukewarm and flat, it left a sour aftertaste.

“So, I should take responsibility. I can’t stand causing others harm.”

“How will you help?”

Crushing the can, I grinned.

“Heal her. With food. And streaming.”