Chapter 103: The Meat's Effect

Frankly speaking, Ryuji had always assumed something like this would only happen with Erina.

After all, her palate wasn't normal—it was the God Tongue. If anyone was going to get sent into an altered state by otherworldly meat, it would be her, right?

And yet, what just happened here with Mito Ikumi was…

Way beyond anything Erina had experienced.

That was a girl who just came from eating.

Even Erina hadn't acted this dramatically!

And this girl didn't even have the God Tongue.

Ryuji winced.

This was the part no one prepared you for in interdimensional travel: the foodgasms. And not the fun kind. The literal kind.

Ryuji scratched his head, baffled. He was no stranger to such scenes—Tsunade, for instance, often made that same dazed expression due to her hyper-sensitive body. But unlike Ikumi, Tsunade had unmatched regenerative abilities. She'd recover within minutes, ready to challenge him again almost immediately. Even when she lost herself for a moment, it was never longer than a minute.

But this one...

"Wake up already!"

He reached out and gently patted her cheek.

No response.

He tried again, firmer this time. Her skin was warm—too warm. Soft and flushed, almost blissed-out stupor—completely unresponsive. Her mouth opened slightly, a small, lingering moan escaping like a whispered memory. All he could do was marvel at how ridiculous this world had become.

With no other option, he decided to carry her to another room to rest.

Given her current state, asking someone for help would only cause misunderstandings. Anyone walking in would surely look at him like he was the worst kind of degenerate, especially with the language barrier. There was no way he was letting that kind of rumor spread.

"Goddamn it."

With a sigh, he slid his arms under her—one beneath her knees, the other supporting her back. She was surprisingly light, but firm. Her muscles were defined, subtly sculpted under her tanned skin, the kind of physique that came from both discipline and pride. There was strength in her form, but now it was utterly slack, surrendered.

It was familiar in a strange way.

Truth be told, Ryuji had met many women like this lately. Tsunade, Chobung, even Erina—they all had that same blend of strength and softness that felt so satisfying under the fingers. Even Lux, despite being something... not quite human, had her own overwhelming power that surpassed his own.

Only Seria remained the exception—a truly delicate girl, with a body untouched by the weight of battle, soft and fragile in a way that felt almost foreign now.

Mito Ikumi was… different.

Still possessing the lithe frame of a teenage girl, yes—but the lushness of her form was undeniable. She wasn't large by any means, but she felt full—soft where she should be, warm and yielding in his arms despite the lean muscle just beneath her bronzed skin. There was a density to her that reminded him of Tsunade—a kind of woman who felt like she existed with intensity.

Ryuji felt his heart stir slightly. But that was all. Temptation was one thing—intention was another.

He had other priorities.

Once this chaos settled down, he planned to clean up, give Erina a call, share a few quiet moments, and then… talk marriage. Yes, he was going to propose—formally. To ask Erina's family for her hand. Things had moved fast, but he wasn't the type to leave loose ends. Especially when feelings were real.

From how Mito had reacted to that piece of meat, it was clear just how potent it was. But Ryuji didn't care much about hoarding its power. Once he left the world of 7 Days to Die, he wouldn't have access to that meat anymore anyway.

What he did care about were the spices he'd brought from Arad. That had piqued Mito's interest too. So, he had a new plan: a niche trade network. Selling rare goods—items that didn't exist in either world. Gourmet spices, magical ingredients, seeds from other realms.

True, it cost 100,000 energy points to travel from Arad to this world. But one night with Seria earned him 10,000. If he spent half the month here and half there, the loop was sustainable.

Of course, since things from other worlds cannot enter the inventory of the 7 Days to Die world, the goods he can bring are—only what he could personally hold. But that just meant he had to go high-end: rare seeds, luxury materials, magical products.

Maybe even offer potions that enhanced life or prolonged youth—things that would impress the elite, like Erina's grandfather, Senzaemon Nakiri.

If the seeds didn't sprout in this world, he still had magic—he had power. That alone was a commodity.

As for what this world could offer him in return? That was still unclear. Without access to inventory systems, only durable goods—gemstones, perhaps—might carry value back to Arad. But even that was uncertain. Their gem composition might differ.

Still, building an empire here—having a modern-world base of operations—was worth it.

And none of that required… getting tangled up with Mito Ikumi. Or putting anything inside her, for that matter.

He reminded himself of that, even as the girl shifted softly in his arms, supple and warm.

But then—

"…Ah…"

Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at him, pupils dilated, breath still shallow from the lingering trance of the meat's taste. Her gaze was hazy, yet filled with a strange longing.

To her, Ryuji appeared radiant. Handsome. Dominant. Irresistible.

And she—she felt like meat. Prime, sizzling, marbled perfection. A5-grade. She wanted to be devoured. She needed to be consumed.

Her thighs rubbed together unconsciously, her scent intensifying in the air. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his—catching him completely off guard.

Her kiss was clumsy, eager. Her tongue stumbled into his mouth with unpracticed fervor, not seeking affection but flavor—desperately chasing the residual taste of the divine meat that still lingered there.

The sudden shift in weight made Ryuji lose his balance. He toppled backward, the curvy, feverish girl landing atop him, pinning him with surprising strength.

She kissed him like she was starving.

And while her lips were sweet—her saliva a tantalizing nectar—Ryuji still had the presence of mind to push her off.

He gripped her arm and twisted—expecting her to yield easily.

She didn't.

That was his mistake. Again.

He forgot she wasn't some delicate flower. This was a girl who flipped massive cuts of meat over open flames for fun. A girl who trained. And while he'd been hitting the gym lately, a life spent behind a desk had left him far from his prime.

Pinned, arms caught at awkward angles, he had only one option left: a full-body push.

He managed it on the second try.

She backed off—but not before a thin strand of silver bridged their parting lips.

Her eyes remained glassy, her breath heavy, her fingers slowly trailing down her chest. With a dazed, sultry smile, she reached behind her and undid her bra, exposing a warm swell of sun-kissed flesh.

It bounced softly in the cool air, mesmerizing. Ryuji couldn't help but glance.

And then—dreamlike—she grasped herself and brought her breast to her own mouth, suckling softly while whispering through moans:

"…This is prime… A5 meat… Please taste me while I'm still fresh… Cut me up, bite by bite… stuff me with sauce, slice me open with your knife…"

Her words were full of innuendo—but Ryuji had a hunch they weren't meant to be seductive. Not exactly.

She wasn't trying to be sexy. The poor girl was lost in a flavor-induced hallucination, completely delusional. She'd mistaken herself for food.

He sighed, crossed his arms, and shot her a deadpan look.

"Sorry, cannibalism's not really my thing. Also—you're clearly lucid enough to speak, so how about snapping out of it?"

Then, with a sigh, he made a cutting motion across his chest.

"Eh?"

Mito Ikumi froze.

She blinked at Ryuji in genuine confusion. Her mind was still muddled, stuck between hallucination and reality. His words didn't make sense to her—not yet.

So Ryuji sighed.

This situation clearly had only one way out: a punch to the face.

Yeah. He was going to knock her out.

It wasn't pretty, but it was clean. He wasn't about to take advantage of a girl high on magical Wagyu, no matter how willing she looked in the moment.

Ryuji might not have drugged her—but after seeing the effect of that meat? It made no difference. The effect was the same as slipping something into her drink.

If he did go that route, he'd at least be a gentleman about it—drop the tablet in front of her, fizzing visibly in the glass, and let her decide if she wanted to play. But this? This was just unfair.

He still had some moral code left, thank you very much.

So, with a resigned look, he rolled up his sleeves. Fire Fist—that should do it.

He stepped forward.

But just as he raised his fist, preparing to deliver a swift, consciousness-removing strike to the face, Mito's eyes suddenly began to clear.

Her lips stopped their sinful suckling at the gates of her future child's food supply.

Her pupils focused. Lucidity returned.

And then—

"AAAHHHHHHH!!!"

A shriek tore out of her throat.

She scrambled away from him, arms clutched protectively over her chest, crawling backward on all fours like some startled animal. She didn't stop until she hit the far wall, panting, cornered.

Only then did she remember her shirt—frantically yanking it back over her exposed chest.

"Y-You! Y-You—you—you!!"

She jabbed a finger at him as he casually stood up, brushing dust off his sleeves like none of that had just happened.

But she couldn't find the words.

Because deep down, she knew.

Ryuji hadn't drugged her.

He'd eaten the meat too.

And with her trained palate, honed from years as a professional chef, she understood that her actions—those shameless, out-of-body delusions—weren't his fault. They were the result of flavor. The sheer, overwhelming euphoria of a dish too perfect for her brain to handle.

Like Erina's God Tongue dishes… only more.

But that only made it worse.

Because the man in front of her—Ryuji—wasn't a chef. His technique was a disaster. His plating was nonexistent. His knife skills? Amateur.

Which meant only one thing:

The meat itself—and the spices—were so perfect they completely overrode his incompetence.

A single bite had made her lose every shred of composure, every ounce of pride as a Nakiri-elite chef.

"You done?" Ryuji said flatly, raising a brow.

"If you've snapped out of it, you should probably get going. I don't want people calling me a creep. Or worse… you getting labeled a pervert."

He clicked his tongue, glancing—somewhat regretfully—at the now-covered view.

But Ikumi, panting in the corner, didn't respond right away.

The flavor still lingered. It haunted her tongue.

Her body trembled with withdrawal. Her lips parted.

And then—

"You… You have to take responsibility!"

Ikumi stood up suddenly, cheeks burning crimson, and grabbed the front of Ryuji's shirt.

"You saw everything! And—and you stole my first kiss!!"

"You jumped on me."

Ryuji lifted his hands in a loose shrug, voice dry and teasing. The smug expression on his face increased his annoyingness by at least eighty percent.

"I…"

She choked on her words.

She knew he was right. Despite her hazy mind, she was sure—she had made every move. And in contrast, he'd been… a gentleman.

An annoying, smug, insufferable gentleman.

But she couldn't let this go. Not just for pride—but for survival.

That meat—that forbidden, impossible flavor—could not slip out of her reach.

If her family lost access to it… the Mito enterprise would collapse. Slowly, inevitably, their empire would rot from within.

And more than that—

She wanted it. She needed to taste that meat again. For the rest of her life.

Without it, she didn't know what kind of person she'd become.

So without hesitation, she slammed her hand against the wall beside him, trapping him in a powerful kabe-don.

Her face flushed red with a mix of shame and determination.

"Name your price!" she blurted. "What'll it take to make you work for the Mito family?! If—if it takes marriage, then fine! I'll do it! I'll marry you!"

Ryuji blinked.

"...Huh. Yeah, so—thing is—I already have a fiancée. Erina."

"…What?!"

Mito reeled back like she'd been slapped. Her mind reeled—shocked, disbelieving… and alarmed.

"I'm here because of her," Ryuji said plainly, brushing her arm aside. "So while I appreciate the enthusiasm, Mito-san, maybe dial it down a bit."

He sighed and straightened his clothes.

"If the Mito family wants to negotiate something, they can talk to Erina. But I wouldn't get your hopes up—this meat is in short supply."

That much was true. Once he finished his business in the zombie world, his access to the otherworldly meat would end. He wasn't going to waste any of it on corporate deals or casual trades.

He wasn't that generous.

But that's not what Mito heard.

"…The Nakiri family… is entering the meat distribution game?"

Her eyes widened.

If that was true—if the Nakiris were going to monopolize a new tier of gourmet meat—the Mito family would be finished.

She bit her lip. It wasn't about wealth. As a prodigy, she could rebuild anything.

But if she lost access to that meat?

If she couldn't cook with it… taste it again…

Then what was the point?

She stared at him—at Ryuji, her accidental captor, the key to her addiction.

And in a desperate, half-conscious murmur, she said the words she never thought would leave her mouth:

"…I… I could be your mistress."

~~~~~~~

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