Chastity-Reversed Hard Mode: Surviving as a Steel-Minded Adventurer in Another World - Chapter 23: Giving It My All for the Count’s House with a Steel Mentality

Chapter 23: Giving It My All for the Count’s House with a Steel Mentality

“Haah, haah… water tastes sooo good!”

After thirty minutes, the very first boot camp finally came to an end.

The Count’s husband and her consorts—now proudly calling themselves the soulmates bound by hard muscle—collapsed onto the grass, panting like dogs.

I handed them the kettle of water I’d asked the maids to prepare. One by one, they gulped it down and passed it around as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. I’d even had some rock salt brought along, and they licked at that too.

“Man… I really am getting old. Back in my youth, I could move around a lot more than this.”

“Come on, how long has it been since you joined the Count’s household? We’re all old men now.”

“No kidding!”

The uncles burst out laughing together.

Normally, you’d expect some rivalry or resentment between husbands and consorts, but the mood was surprisingly warm. Maybe it was because the Count loved them all equally… or maybe the boot camp had sparked a bit of camaraderie. Either way, it was a nice sight. And if my workout had even the tiniest hand in that, I’d be pretty damn proud.

“But I gotta say, moving our bodies like this feels great. At first the rhythm threw me off—so different from social dances or festival steps—but once you get into it, it’s just plain fun.”

“Yeah, yeah! You can’t help but smile while you’re doing it.”

“I thought this ‘hell training’ would be something terrifying, but—”

“Hey, don’t jinx it! The real hell comes later. Don’t forget—once you hit our age, muscle soreness always shows up the next day.”

“Ugh, that’s true.”

Couldn’t argue with that.

Which meant, of course, I had to get them started on proper cooldown and recovery drills before things got ugly.

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“So! That means it’s snack time. After exercising, if you eat protein within about two hours—basically meat and stuff—it helps reduce muscle soreness and speed up growth. Hey, Chef, got any quick meat dishes we can eat right now?”

I marched into the kitchen with all my muscle-bound soulmates trailing behind me and asked the cook—who also happened to be one of the Count’s consorts—for a snack.

With a big grin, he brought out one of those fancy silver platters with a shiny dome lid.

“Of course! We’ve got last night’s roast beef from the banquet!”

“Roast beef, huh…”

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, while Midra’s face lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

“Perfect! Roast beef is the best! We were planning to serve it to you at the feast last night, Big Brother, but since you’re here now, please enjoy it instead!”

“…Does it have a lot of fatty parts?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. It’s from a very special cut.”

“Yeah, no thanks. Let’s not. For the next week, please avoid fatty cuts.”

“Whaaaat…?”

Come on, we’re working out to lose fat. Eating greasy meat now would just ruin everything.

“Don’t you have something like… Chicken Salad?”

“…Chicken Salad?”

“Yeah, chicken breast marinated in broth made from chicken bones.”

“…What’s a chicken bone broth?”

[Sad News] Hard-Mode Isekai: No Such Thing as Broth

This honestly blew my mind. I’d always thought, Man, these stews taste kind of bland, but I never imagined the very concept of broth didn’t exist here.

When I explained, “You smash animal bones with a hammer, skim off the blood clots, then simmer it for hours with veggie scraps,” the cooks reacted like I’d just revealed forbidden magic. Wait, even the Count’s personal chef doesn’t know this much?!

I checked what ingredients they actually had, and the answer was: beef. Lots and lots of beef. In this kingdom’s noble culture, serving fancy beef dishes is the ultimate way to flaunt wealth and power. Makes sense—cows eat tons of grass, so raising them costs a fortune. Still, beef isn’t exactly diet-friendly.

They also had eggs, potatoes, onions, and for preserved foods: ham and jerky. Another shocker—vegetables basically aren’t eaten. Sure, without refrigeration fresh veggies don’t last long, but they hardly even grow them in the first place. With such a meat-heavy culture, vegetables are treated like rare side items nobles might nibble on in summer.

So the diet here boiled down to: meat, bread, and maybe some token onion pickles. Poor folks just swapped bread for potatoes. …No wonder everyone’s overweight.

“Are there really no villages growing things like cabbage or carrots…?”

“Oh, cabbage and carrots? I grow those in the garden.”

“…Then why don’t you eat them?”

“Eh? Because they’re ornamental plants.”

[Sad News] Hard-Mode Isekai: Vegetables Are Treated as Decoration

You’ve gotta be kidding me. Even in the laziest isekai novels, people at least grow and eat vegetables!

And get this—they even have tomatoes, imported from the New Continent. But… they only raise them as ornamental plants. Why? Because everyone here believes tomatoes are poisonous and will kill you if you eat them.

Well, technically, they’re not entirely wrong. Tomatoes do contain a toxin called tomatine. But for it to reach lethal levels, you’d have to eat, like, a whole truckload of them. Which—yeah, good luck with that.

“You should start large-scale farming of those next year. If you pickle or salt them, they’ll keep for ages. Vegetables are great for filling your stomach without piling on fat. Plus, they’ve got tons of nutrients you just can’t get from meat—super important for staying healthy.”

“…I see. I’ll discuss it with my wife later.”

“Oh, and if the crops do well, could you share a few seeds with me?”

“Of course. I’ll have a messenger deliver them.”

Finally! I seriously miss eating vegetables. Ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but meat and bread.

And hey, starting a slow-life farm is basically a web novel classic. If I ever retire from adventuring and Saint duties, it might be nice to just kick back and live that life.

…Though, in those novels, the so-called “slow life” usually ends up being: use cheat skills, get a harvest in a month, build a kingdom in a year. Not exactly slow. Guess us modern Japanese can’t shake off that obsession with efficiency, no matter where we end up.

Alright, so I needed something low in fat, high in protein, and quick to whip up…

Ah, I know! A Spanish omelet.

I gathered eggs, potatoes, ham, and onions, then borrowed a corner of the kitchen.

For the record, a Spanish omelet—also called a tortilla—has nothing to do with the Mexican flatbread of the same name. It’s Spain’s go-to national comfort food.

You just dice up potatoes, onions, and ham, fry them together, pour in beaten eggs, let it cook through, flip it over, and boom—done. Super easy.

Normally I’d season it with salt and pepper, but here, pepper is treated like rare treasure. They only bring it out for banquets with VIP guests. No way was I wasting such a luxury on post-workout snacks. So I settled for just salt.

The beauty of this dish is that the potatoes make it filling even in small portions. Sure, potatoes are carbs, but the amount isn’t that high, so it’s not like anyone’s going to balloon up from eating it.

Meanwhile, the chef—one of the Count’s consorts—stood glued to my side, eyes wide like saucers, scribbling down notes at lightning speed. Honestly, his intensity was a little scary. But hey, if he memorized the recipe, the soulmates can keep enjoying it long after I’m gone.

As it cooked, the smell spread through the kitchen, and Midra and the others were practically drooling rivers. The moment I plated it and served, they dove in like starving wolves. Plates were licked clean in no time, and yeah—the reviews were glowing.

“This is delicious!”

“Mmm, amazing…! I always thought potatoes were food for the poor, but like this… I could eat them every day.”

“Using eggs feels a bit extravagant, but… totally worth it!”

…Wait, eggs are a luxury item here?

Turns out poultry farming isn’t exactly thriving in this world, so eggs are pricey—about the rough equivalent of 500 yen apiece back home. Chickens themselves cost a fortune too. Sure, the Count’s household can afford them, but for everyday diet food, I needed something cheaper.

So I asked if there was any affordable meat around.

“Cheap meat…? That would be rabbit.”

“Oh right—big-horned rabbits!”

Yeah, this world is practically overrun with rabbit monsters. They devour the grasslands, breed like crazy, and no matter how many you hunt, more just keep popping up. Thanks to them, even broke bottom-feeders like me could eat meat every day back in the day. A double-edged sword, really.

Here in the Longfield domain, those horned rabbits are everywhere, which makes rabbit meat plentiful. Plus, it’s lean and low-fat—perfect for diet meals.

I immediately taught the chef how to make broth from rabbit bones and use it to marinate the meat. It only needs one day to soak, so we’ll be able to taste-test it tomorrow.

Behold—the birth of Rabbit Salad, the fantasy-world cousin of Chicken Salad.

Now, I wonder what else could work as a meat substitute… Maybe fish?

“Oh… we do have fish. Around this season, you can catch salmon swimming upstream. Nobody really eats them though, so they sell cheap.”

“Salmon!? That’s perfect! Why doesn’t anyone eat it?”

“Well, any Brishav noble would rather have meat than fish. Fish is only eaten reluctantly during the no-meat period before the Festival of Resurrection. Most people say it smells too strong and tastes bad. Plus, salmon often causes food poisoning.”

Wha—what a waste…!

As a proud citizen of Fish Heaven Japan, fish is my best friend! And of course, I’d love to eat my friends.

(← shining example of a true psychopath.)

“There are a few weirdos among us who like the flavor, so we do stock some smoked salmon…”

“That person has excellent taste! If you’re in an island nation, eat more fish—eat the fish!”

The hatred of fish probably comes down to lack of refrigeration and transport—fish spoils quickly here. Smoking was developed as a preservation method, but over time the stereotype that fish = stinky and gross just got baked into the culture.

As for food poisoning, that’s likely due to parasites like anisakis or toxoplasma. They probably haven’t figured out the “freeze it once to kill the worms” trick yet. Still, smoked salmon should be safe—any parasites would die off from the heat during smoking.

Anyway, I’d already granted everyone [Disease Resistance], so there was zero chance of anyone getting parasites. With that buff, any worms in your system get flushed out the same day. Total cheat skill.

Viruses and bacteria probably get expelled within a day too, but since you can’t actually see them, I can’t say for sure. Still—better safe than sorry.

Now then—time for a taste test. I snagged a slice of the stored smoked salmon, and wow… the fat melted right in my mouth, perfectly balanced flavor. Unlike modern Japan’s cold-smoked style, this was hot-smoked all the way through. But honestly? Still amazing.

In simple terms, it was like a grilled salmon fillet, kissed with smoky fragrance. If it had been salted a bit more beforehand, it would’ve been almost identical to Japanese-style salted salmon. But hey, this is the Great Brishav Empire—we’ve got to adjust the flavor for local palates. Don’t worry, salmon, I’ll make you even tastier right now~♥

And so, I quickly whipped up a dish: hot-smoked salmon and onion marinade. Super easy—just mix olive oil, vinegar, salt, and sugar for the marinade, toss in smoked salmon and onions, then let it sit in a cool, dark place for an hour. Done. Sure, pepper would’ve been perfect, but since we don’t have it—eh, whatever, it’s fine!

“Ohhh…! This is delicious too! The smoky aroma completely wipes out the fishy smell!”

“The sourness makes it so refreshing. Honestly, meat dishes have been hitting my stomach harder as I’ve gotten older… but this? I actually prefer it over roast beef. I’d love to have this as a side dish with future meals.”

“In winter, you can swap in cod instead. Try it with seasonal fish.”

Since Brishav Island sits at a high latitude, cod should definitely be available.

“I see… I see…!”

The chef was scribbling notes furiously, practically snorting with excitement. Good—if this got him fired up, maybe he’d start coming up with his own diet-friendly recipes from here on.

As I watched the soulmates happily smacking their lips, Midra suddenly grabbed both my hands, his face overcome with emotion.

“Big Brother, you’re incredible! Not only medicine, but exercise, farming, and cooking too—your knowledge is boundless! Truly, you deserve to be called a Sage!”

“Eh… no, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Hah! Such humility! But carried too far, even modesty can sound like arrogance, you know!”

“Ahaha…”

No, seriously—I’m not saying anything groundbreaking here. This isn’t one of those web novel clichés where the MC goes, “Oops, did I just do something incredible again?” If you’re into weight training or camping, this is just common sense.

Yeah, sure—looking back, it does sound a bit like a knowledge-cheat move. But it’s not like I pulled out some ultra-specialized expertise. If a reincarnated high schooler suddenly started designing waterwheels or inventing complex machines, then yeah, I’d be like, “What the hell are you, a genius?!” But me? I’m more like, “How do you guys not know this already?” Totally baffling.

Wasn’t marinade originally a Roman invention? And this world supposedly had its own Ancient Roman-style empire, the “Great Loman Empire of Legend.” Did they really lose stuff like marinades and even bath culture along the way? That’s not progress—that’s regression. Seriously, this world really is Hard Mode…

Being called a Sage over something this basic feels wrong. I’d be embarrassed standing next to all those isekai protagonists who proudly flaunt the title. So yeah—I respectfully decline, thank you very much.

As I was mulling that over, the chef suddenly leaned forward with notebook and pen in hand.

“Big Brother, please! Teach me more! Share other recipes with me too!”

“Hold it. You’re a chef—you should know how valuable recipes are. Normally, you’d have to pay a fortune or even become a disciple to be taught. Don’t you realize how shameless it is to take advantage of Big Brother’s generosity like this? As a member of the Count’s household, show some shame.”

“Ah… m-my apologies.”

Snapped back to reality after Midra’s scolding, the chef slumped his shoulders in defeat.

“It’s fine. I can really only make diet food and sweets, but if that’s enough, I’ll share what I know. Oh, and I can also give you some tips on how to grow vegetables.”

“What… truly? You would?”

“Of course. Besides, I want vegetable seeds in return.”

Honestly, it’s nothing special—just basic stuff any web novel reader back home would know. Rotate crops to prevent soil exhaustion, plant clover between harvests to restore nutrients, and use fermented chicken manure as fertilizer. But since none of that exists here yet, even those simple hints might end up as game-changers.

“I am deeply grateful for your kindness, Saint. Truly, it feels like too much…”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re soulmates, right? Brothers bound by muscle. Helping a younger brother in need is what big brothers are for.”

…Okay, fine, that “brotherhood” part was kind of me forcing it on them.

Midra clenched a fist to his chest, shoulders trembling with emotion. Maybe I’d gone too far, talking so casually to a noble?

“…Big Brother, starting tomorrow, may I have all my consorts join the training? I’d also like my son to learn from you.”

“Yeah, of course.”

The more participants, the better—their encouragement would push each other’s motivation even higher.

“Your son… that’s the only boy who actually survived to grow up, right?”

“Yes. I also have sons from my consorts, but…”

“Bring them all too. It might be tough for the chef to prep snacks for everyone, but hey—think of it as training and do your best!”

“Y-Yes, sir! I’ll give it my all!”

Caught off guard, the chef snapped to attention, spine straight like a soldier. Looked like he was already picking up that sports-club reflex, even though I’d never taught it.

“How old is your son, Midra?”

“He turns fifteen this year.”

Ohh, so about a third-year middle schooler. That’s a perfect age to start building strength.

“Honestly, since I came to this wor—uh, this country, I don’t think I’ve ever really spoken to a younger boy before.”

“Young men are treasured here. Especially noble ones. My son, though… he’s grown very withdrawn. He either shuts himself in his room or just sits in the back garden, staring at flowers.”

“I see… well, I hope I can be his friend.”

Hearing that, Midra bowed deeply.

“Yes. I pray that, even after I am gone, my son will continue to be of service to you.”