“Is it done?” The slave in charge of cooking asked while seeing the soup. (Slave)
“No, looks like I failed.” (Naofumi)
“Eh? When it smells so good?” (Slave)
“Indeed.” (Naofumi)
While saying so, I wash away the soup with a bottle of water.
Danger!
The same alerts from before were reflected in my field of vision.
What!?
Was it the water?
I carefully asked the connoisseur about the water.