Surviving on the Northern Front with Gukbap

Chapter 69 : Granfen (2)

Granfen (2)

*

An unfamiliar kitchen knife swept toward my throat.

In the hand of the woman I thought was my employee.

"Dieeee!!"

It was so well sharpened that the light from the candle gleamed on its blade.

Of course, that meant it was an attack I could notice and dodge, 'It also means Clara isn't the one who killed Legion.'

I twisted my body to dodge.

The kitchen knife sliced through empty air,

but the follow-up attack smoothly targeted my side. Whik.

Surprisingly, she really knew how to handle a knife.

"Die! Dieeee!!"

I dodged, dodged, and dodged again.

There were two reasons I was only focused on evasion.

First, I'd never hit a woman before.

Second, after about ten days of working together, I'd grown attached to her.

'Haa.'

With a sigh, I hit Clara's wrist with the edge of my hand.

Clatter. The kitchen knife Clara was holding dropped to the hallway floor.

Only then did Naba and Harper burst out of the room.

Naba's eyes widened when he looked over the situation in the second floor hallway where I stood.

"C-c-Clara?"

Naba's lips trembled,

but Clara rolled her eyes and screamed:

"Are you calling me junior?! That lackey bastard orphan of the outsider, so annoying to the very end!!"

It was a venomous side we'd never seen in Clara before.

"Huh? What are you talking about...."

"A sickening brat who rolled under those thug adventurers, what are y—."

Thunk.

"Hrk."

I drove my fist into Clara's abdomen.

Thus I achieved my life's first 'hitting a woman' milestone.

Well, I'd even killed someone—hitting a woman hardly mattered now.

'First, I need to deal with my real employee's mental health.'

Whoosh.

A small fist flew at my face.

Amazingly, Clara didn't go down.

'So, she's a mana user.'

Yeah. She wouldn't have tried to kill me without at least that much.

Honestly, that made things easier.

As I deflected Clara's punch with my palm, I said:

"Bite down on your teeth."

Crunch!!

My spinning kick landed on her chin, sending Clara's body whirling around.

Thud.

Clara collapsed on the floor.

'... Damn.'

I hefted the unconscious woman over my shoulder, picked up the kitchen knife, and went down to the first floor.

Thump.

Dropped her carelessly on the hall floor.

No need to tie her up since I could subdue her anytime.

'This is just sad.'

It wasn't Clara's twisted chin that saddened me.

It was the fact that, after all I'd done, everyone seemed intent on killing me.

After Flaco, Derek's gang, and green-eyed Hank, a new challenger appeared.

"Naba. Go get a bucket of water."

"Yes!!"

Splash!

I threw cold water onto Clara.

Wearing only thin pajamas and now soaked, the scene was a little weird,

but Clara's eyelids fluttered and she regained consciousness.

"Where did you get this?"

I asked, showing her the kitchen knife Clara had swung at me.

It wasn't a kitchen knife or utility knife I used.

It was my first time seeing this kitchen knife.

"......"

The crazed look from earlier was gone.

She carefully maintained her expression and kept silent.

"Not going to answer?"

"......"

Still no reply.

This made me unconsciously consider torture first.

Acting rationally, as a modern person, I held back and tried a little more.

"Since it's not a dagger but a kitchen knife, it probably wasn't ordered by the soldiers, and as everyone knows, you worked at Wyvern Tail for a long time."

Clara's throat bobbed. Gulp.

"Did the owner of Wyvern Tail put you up to this?"

Ptooey! Clara spat at me and I dodged.

She then glared at me with reddening eyes.

"So I was right after all."

Harper, watching from the side, spoke in a trembling voice.

"I thought it was possible you were an industry spy, but to go this far..."

Harper and I seemed to have come to similar conclusions.

Clara had come over from Wyvern Tail more easily than expected.

But the newcomer outsider Harper seemed deeply shocked, his pupils shaking.

"That's the way of the world. You'll have to get used to it, quick."

"Y-yes, sir."

He tried to answer stoically, but didn't quite manage it.

Clearly, Harper was undergoing a different process of adaptation than I did.

'After I got stronger, there were rarely any chumps causing trouble in the shop.'

I wondered if Harper had ever even seen a corpse.

Can't have him growing up like hothouse flowers.

On the other hand, "A piece-of-crap woman not worth even orc dung."

Behold.

The fine language of our proud medieval brat.

Turning his sense of betrayal into righteous anger!

"I'll tear her limb from limb and feed her to the mermaid in Nobopil—."

Bonk!

I flicked Naba's head.

"Enough, that's enough."

He really did have potential for the Demon King's role.

"... Yes, sir."

Anyway, the owner of Wyvern Tail tried to take me out.

And I was no saint who would just quietly let that slide.

"Get up."

Even at my command, Clara didn't budge.

In the end, I grabbed her by the scruff and made her stand, then shoved her forward.

"Lead the way."

"You're going to Wyvern Tail?"

Naba asked.

"Yeah, we're going right now."

It was the busiest time at Wyvern Tail.

This was when I needed to barge in and expose what Wyvern Tail had done.

That was my plan, but Naba frowned in worry.

"Let's go together when Plerine gets here."

That made me remember the long-forgotten Plerine.

I thought she'd be here soon, but it was taking longer than expected.

Well, I couldn't just wait endlessly for her to arrive.

"I'll be back."

It was just civilians I had to handle.

At my current level, I could do it alone.

I couldn't rely on Plerine for everything, after all.

*

The tavern was packed with noisy customers.

I was almost jealous at the atmosphere, nothing like what I'd seen at my own shop—but I went ahead and threw.

Crash.

The half-naked, freckled woman, soaked to the skin, rolled across the floor.

Clara.

"Huh? Clara?"

"Why is the outsider here?"

All eyes turned to Clara and me.

Wyvern Tail gradually quieted down.

They seemed to be staring at Clara more than at me, but whatever.

"Claraaaa!!"

A shout rang out.

A bulky man charged at Clara.

Thump, thump, thump.

'That pig must be Wyvern Tail's owner, Dunbell.'

To meet my former top rival this way...

Clara looked at the charging pig with longing.

Hug.

The two embraced.

"Ooaaah."

Clara mumbled incoherently with her ruined jaw.

Hmm.

Maybe she hadn't refused to talk earlier; maybe she just couldn't.

'But the key is, those two were in that kind of relationship.'

The customers in the tavern murmured with surprise—seems even they didn't know about their relationship.

Dunbell stroked Clara's face with both hands.

"Pretty Clara's face...! Grrr!!"

Dunbell turned his burning gaze on me.

"How dare you do this to my Clara!!"

I'd never felt such open, heated anger before,

but all I could do was be stunned.

"To your cherished woman, you send her to sleep with another man, and then order her to kill him?"

"??!!"

Hearing my words, Dunbell looked at Clara in shock,

and soon Clara began to sob loudly, crying bitterly.

Hmm. Guess he didn't actually order her to sleep with me.

'So she chose that method herself to make sure she could kill me.'

Among the crowd, I could hear comments like, "Could you endure that?" and "Don't outsiders have any desires?"

Yeah.

Fun spectacle for you lot, huh.

Dunbell took off his shirt and draped it over Clara.

Then, "Uwaaaah!!"

He let out a feral scream and rushed at me,

kitchen knife drawn from his belt.

Some civilian customers gasped in shock, but the soldiers who knew me didn't even flinch.

Well, then, I should pay back the trust those soldiers showed me.

Dodging his clumsy attack, I snatched the kitchen knife and swept his ankle. Whack!

Crash, clatter!

Dunbell tumbled around comically.

I studied the kitchen knife I took from him.

It matched the one Clara had used against me.

With a sigh of mingled pity and annoyance, I spoke:

"Hey. If you're a chef, fight with cooking like a chef. Don't pull this kind of underhanded crap."

I tossed the kitchen knife in front of Dunbell's nose.

With a clattering crash, the tavern went silent again,

but Dunbell glared at me and shouted.

"A cooking fight?! That's my line, you outsider bastard!!"

I felt my eyebrow twitch.

"... What?"

"I don't know how you buttered up the battalion commander, but you're the one who played politics instead of cooking! What, a rotten bastard like you wants a cooking match?!"

Dunbell's words made my blood run cold.

Whatever pity I'd felt was gone.

All I felt now was absurdity.

Does he really think he'd win if it came down to just cooking?

A medieval chef, against me?

'Hopeless, this guy.'

They say the only cure for a mad dog is a stick.

"Fine. I'll show you what a real bastard looks like."

Stepping closer to Dunbell, one pace, then another,

a member of the audience suddenly jumped up and shouted at me.

"Stop, outsider! You've done enough!"

I stopped in my tracks.

Looked at the man who shouted.

He looked like a miner, glaring at me with obvious distaste.

And he wasn't the only one.

'About half these people don't like me.'

Hostility was mounting against me.

I'd slipped up.

I'd forgotten about the blind prejudice of medieval civilians against outsiders.

Even in the modern world racism still exists—of course it would be worse here.

'I got too used to being accepted by my close circle and the soldiers.'

To these people, I was just the "outsider".

And a yellow-skinned outsider at that.

It stung, but it was time to back off.

"Sorry for interrupting. Please, enjoy yourselves."

As I turned to leave,

Dunbell shouted at my back.

"Stop, outsider!!"

Oh, what now.

I turned around—Dunbell was back on his feet, pointing a kitchen knife at me.

"I challenge you to a duel."

I almost laughed,

but I held it in.

Does everyone in the North have a duel fixation?

"You're not even a soldier. Don't talk about sacred duels. You'll just get hurt for real."

"W-who said anything about fighting?! I challenge you to a duel as a chef! Let's compete with our cooking!"

Wow, that was close.

I almost burst out laughing for real.

Utterly ridiculous.

'He actually thinks he can beat me at cooking. Really?'

Seeing the look in his eye, I could tell he meant it.

The crowd, too, waited in dead silence for my answer.

If I bailed here, my shop's reputation would plummet.

So, how to make the most of this situation?

Hmm. A good idea came to mind.

"Fine. I accept your cooking match. But let's wager our shops. What do you think?"

Might as well open Happiness Gukbap Branch No. 2 while I'm at it.

"That's what I wanted! What dish shall we compete with?"

"Doesn't matter. You pick."

No matter what food he chose, mine would be tastier.

As long as the judges weren't tampered with, there was no way I'd lose.

'Maybe I really will need a true blind-tasting like Baek-Hyuk the Chef.'

Should I make a bunch of blindfolds?

That rush of dopamine was something new,

when suddenly Dunbell grinned slyly and said, "The contest menu will be alcohol! Let's compete with the taste of our liquor!"

Alcohol, huh. That was a rather different dish than I had in mind.