From Master Assassin to a Random Extra: OP in a Dating Sim-Chapter 115: One Dragon, Two Cooks, No Chill

The city square thrummed with life.

Vendors called out their specials, spatulas clanged against hot griddles, and a rich blend of scents—ginger pork, roasted peppers, fresh herbs—hung heavy in the summer air. Smoke rose in lazy plumes above open fires. Flags fluttered from awnings. And at the center of the bustling crowd stood the dragon—arms folded, gaze calmly sweeping across the colorful chaos.

He looked like a wandering noble caught in a festival by accident: regal, amused, and only mildly overwhelmed.

Marcus and Victoria had already vanished into the food stalls like hunting dogs off the leash.

"Should I have given them a time limit?" the dragon mused aloud, brushing a bit of ash from his robe.

Cynthia leaned against a post nearby, sipping something fruity from a paper cup. "Please do. I’d love to see them implode on a deadline."

The dragon grinned slightly. "Very well. One hour. And whoever returns first had better bring a legendary meal, or be disqualified."

He raised one hand, and a pulse of green light flicked from his fingertip—so faint it seemed like nothing. But far away, both Marcus and Victoria flinched as the magical message zipped into their minds.

Thirty stalls away, Marcus skidded to a stop in front of a sizzling cart. The cook—a stocky man with a weathered apron—was flipping skewers of glazed pork belly over a charcoal fire.

"Boss," Marcus said, panting slightly. "What’s your best dish?"

The man didn’t hesitate. "Spiced pork belly with grilled leeks. Served over toasted sesame rice with garlic oil."

Marcus dropped five gold coins onto the counter. "I want three servings, extra glaze, garnish it like royalty’s watching."

The man raised an eyebrow. "You’re feeding someone important?"

"You have no idea."

Flames danced. The aroma of sizzling fat, caramelized sugar, and crisped onion filled the air. Marcus leaned in, his mind already arranging presentation: the pork layered atop rice, the glaze shimmering like lacquer, thin ribbons of grilled leeks adding contrast. A cucumber salad tossed in chili vinegar and garlic would provide a sharp, refreshing kick. He paired it all with a tall cup of barley tea laced with roasted orange peel for a bitter-sweet finish.

Meanwhile, Victoria made her move.

She stood in front of a small family stall run by a pair of elderly bakers. Their specialty: braised duck wrapped in freshly steamed buns.

"Do you have any hoisin sauce?" she asked, inspecting a batch of crispy duck skin.

"Homemade," said the older woman, smiling. "From plum and soy. A little ginger."

Victoria nodded. "I’ll take two buns with double duck, and one special bowl—just duck, sticky rice, and sauce. With fresh scallions."

She placed seven gold coins on the counter—more than enough. The woman blinked, then turned and began plating like her life depended on it.

Victoria stepped aside to prep the drinks: cold barley tea with mint leaves and crushed lemon peel. Sharp, clean, refreshing. Perfect to cut through the richness of the duck and hoisin.

Back at the square, Cynthia and the dragon remained in the shade of a cloth canopy, sharing a box of fried tofu squares dipped in spicy chili sauce.

"You’re not tempted to try and win this?" the dragon asked, amused.

"Nope," Cynthia replied, flipping a piece of tofu in her mouth. "I’m just here to watch them try."

"And yet," the dragon mused, "you eat like a person who understands balance."

Cynthia grinned. "Good food flows like good water—rich in layers, steady in rhythm, and never overcomplicated."

The dragon tilted his head thoughtfully. "You are a curious one."

"Thanks," she said, without looking up.

Marcus returned first.

His tray floated beside him, stabilized by a crude but effective rune disc the vendor etched under the tray—on the house. He laid it out carefully on a table near the dragon, each dish gleaming with warmth and flavor. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The centerpiece was the spiced pork belly—glazed, smoky, and crackling with heat—layered on a bed of golden sesame rice. Beside it sat a vibrant cucumber salad, tossed in chili vinegar and speckled with sesame seeds. A tall cup of barley tea, rich with the scent of roasted orange peel, completed the ensemble.

"Bon appétit," Marcus said, bowing slightly.

The dragon took a single bite of the pork belly and closed his eyes.

"...Mmm. This has a bite," he said.

Marcus grinned. "Used smoked paprika and a dash of clove. Cuts the sweetness."

The dragon nodded approvingly. "A bold choice. Spices that challenge, not just compliment."

Victoria arrived five minutes later.

Her tray was simpler, but no less refined. The braised duck buns were plump and perfectly folded, the hoisin sauce glistening just beneath crisp cucumber and scallion. Alongside them, she offered a shallow bowl of sticky rice topped with sliced duck breast, lightly charred skin, and a scatter of fresh green onions. Her drink was a tall iced barley tea, faintly fogged and laced with mint.

The dragon tasted the first bite.

His expression didn’t change, but he exhaled slowly through his nose.

"This..." he murmured. "This is comfort food. Deep, warm, thoughtful."

Victoria’s lips curled into a smile. "It’s what I’d eat on a long night after a hard battle."

The dragon nodded, clearly understanding.

Both competitors stood before him, pride warring with nerves.

The dragon rose, hands clasped behind his back.

"Marcus," he began. "Your meal was bold. Powerful. Perfect for waking the senses. A statement dish."

Marcus raised a fist in victory.

"Victoria," he said. "Yours was humble, refined, and emotionally resonant. It evoked something old... something treasured."

Victoria tilted her chin slightly in acknowledgement.

The dragon looked between them... and smiled.

"In truth," he said, "I cannot choose."

"WHAT?!" both of them exclaimed at once.

He laughed, folding his arms. "So I choose both. You each earn my favor."

"But that’s—" Marcus started.

"No buts," Cynthia said, tossing a napkin at his face. "You’re both dramatic and loud. Take the win and shut up."

That evening, they sat together on a quiet rooftop overlooking the square. The sun dipped low, casting the city in golden light.

All paid with Victoria’s wallet.

Plates licked clean. Bellies full.

Cynthia lounged against a clay chimney. Victoria leaned over the ledge, watching the city hum below. Marcus had his arms behind his head, eyes closed.

The dragon sat still, his robes rippling gently in the breeze.

He finally spoke.

"This," he said quietly, "was a good day."

They all looked toward him.

It wasn’t just gratitude in his voice. It was something softer. Something almost... wistful.

For a being ancient and inhuman, surrounded for centuries by silence, by duty, by war—this day of laughter, messiness, and street food had become something rare.

Something real.

None of them said it aloud.

But they all felt it.

This wasn’t just a contest.

It was the beginning of something bigger.

Something binding.