Chapter 39. Cook Haitan II
Episode 39.
Chef Haitan II
We moved through the still-bright forest, where even dense foliage couldn't completely shut out the sunlight.
"How many spirits have you contracted?"
Alon, who had been rolling his tongue around his mouth as if it were sore, answered.
"Five. Fire, water, wind, lightning, and forest."
"Have you contracted with mid-grade spirits as well?"
"Two of them, yes."
"Their attributes?"
"Wind and forest."
On top of the four basic spirits, which were fundamentally easier to contract with, he had also contracted with an extra attribute, and he even had two mid-grade spirits.
I was slightly impressed.
"You're capable."
It wasn't empty praise; I meant it. He really was someone of sufficient caliber to stand beside the White Knight.
"......."
At that moment, for some reason, the back of my head prickled, and I turned to look behind me.
It was from Kria's direction, but because of her characteristically shaggy bangs, I couldn't see her eyes clearly.
......Was I imagining it?
Anyway, thanks to Alon, we didn't get lost and were able to head by the shortest route to where the chef was.
Of course, that didn't mean there were no problems at all.
"Can't you guide properly?"
"I am guiding......."
"Your shitty directions are why we ran into a Magical Beast!"
But Seigrena seemed to have started disliking everything about Alon, and she beat him for every little thing.
"W-we ran into it......!"
And for some reason, every time that happened, Kria joined in as well.
At first she hovered cautiously, then she slipped in behind Seigrena and started kicking him too.
"......."
What on earth were they doing?
Alon, who was getting beaten, glared at Kria as if he couldn't believe it, but Seigrena was not the type to tolerate that.
"How dare you glare at her!"
"Glare......!"
He got beaten even harder instead.
I watched quietly, and around the time his cries turned into wails, I stopped them.
"That's enough. We still need him to guide us, don't we?"
"As long as he can talk and his mind's intact, isn't that enough?"
"What if he breaks something and can't walk? Are you going to carry him?"
Seigrena made a disgusted face and stopped the violence.
"Consider yourself lucky. Once we return to the royal capital, you'll think your memories of the forest were heaven by comparison."
Alon staggered to his feet without a word.
I didn't feel any particular sympathy.
Among Delvers, betrayal is naturally a grave crime. Honestly speaking, this guy was in a position where he should be grateful for Seigrena's mercy just for not having his head lopped off immediately.
"Get moving again!"
Smack!
Seigrena swung the whip.
Naturally, it was the unique item she had borrowed from me, the <Tentacle Whip>.
'She asked to borrow it, so I lent it to her, and now look.'
Well, I supposed that was better. No matter how hard she struck, it wouldn't deal damage.
"Ugh, gah, guaaah......!"
Of course, the pain was a separate matter.
Every time the whip struck him, the Spiritist sent me a look begging for help, but I ignored it.
I was busy going over my plan in my head right now.
"......That chef bastard."
Alon spoke up hurriedly.
Ever since he'd realized that Seigrena didn't use violence while he was talking with me, he had become much more blatant about it.
I didn't answer and just listened to Alon's one-sided chatter.
"He absolutely refused to show me the kitchen behind the food cart."
"You said that earlier."
"Yeah....... But I keep thinking about what that bastard said. He said it. That the only ones allowed into his cooking area were himself and the ingredients......."
Even Seigrena, who had been grumbling, stopped talking at that moment.
Just as a chill wind blew from somewhere, Alon said,
"So Sir Laurent and the others might already be in that bastard's hands......."
"No."
I shook my head and said.
"They're still alive."
"......."
Alon glanced at me for a moment, then suddenly burst into hollow laughter like a madman.
"......You're just as I heard."
What did that mean? Before I could hear the answer, Alon abruptly stopped walking.
Then, with a trembling hand, he pointed to a certain spot.
"That's the place."
"......."
Through the dense trees, I could see smoke rising.
It wasn't even night, and he was openly lighting a fire in broad daylight like that.
In the forest, you had to be as wary of Delvers as you were of Magical Beasts, but that man seemed to have no such concerns at all.
'Well, I suppose that's only natural.'
He was a man who wouldn't take a single scratch even if caught up in the <Wood Revenge>.
"You all wait here."
"Wait? Why?"
"Because I'm going alone."
"What......?"
I spoke while taking in the rising smoke.
"If I don't come back by sunset, just run away on your own. If things go well...... yeah, I'll try to get him to stop making smoke, so come join me then."
* * *
After barely shaking off the ones who clung stubbornly, I headed alone toward the source of the smoke.
The closer I got, the more a delicious smell wafted out.
Growl.
Come to think of it, it had been a while since I'd eaten anything resembling a proper meal.
Even when hunting Antworms, I'd filled my stomach with the cheapest food available at the shelter.
I rubbed my upper belly gently and kept going until I arrived at the restaurant Alon had mentioned.
"......."
Lucien Bistro
That was the name of this restaurant, according to Alon.
For reference, bistro is a French word meaning 'inexpensive restaurant.' In other words, translated, it would be something like <Lucien's Backstreet Restaurant>.
"Are you a customer?"
At that moment, a man emerged from behind the food cart as if he had been waiting.
'......So it's this bastard.'
A pitch-black suit and dark-green hair reminiscent of a forest at night. His eyes, slit long and narrow in a way that didn't match his kindly smile, were striking.
"I sincerely welcome you to <Lucien Bistro>. I am Haitan, the owner of this restaurant as well as its head chef, bartender, floor manager, and waiter. May I ask how many are in your party?"
"......I'm alone."
I used polite speech for the first time in a while.
Truthfully, in the forest there was rarely any need to observe etiquette, but this man was the exception.
Wearing a good-natured smile, Haitan gestured courteously.
"I see. A party of one. Please sit wherever you like."
I did as he said.
I was about to sit somewhere a little away from the kitchen when I suddenly noticed chairs and tables that looked hastily made.
"......."
They seemed to be made of a distinctive red hardwood.
I ran my fingers over the table, then abruptly spoke.
"This furniture."
"......?"
"The color is unique."
"Ah."
Haitan smiled faintly and said,
"It's a fine forest. High-quality lumber is easy to come by."
"Did you process it yourself, Chef?"
"Haha."
Haitan laughed, looking satisfied.
It was probably because, out of the titles owner, chef, bartender, manager, and waiter, I'd called him by the title he liked best.
"It's not something worth boasting about anywhere. It's just one of my little hobbies."
"......."
At that moment, one question I had been putting off was resolved.
'<Wood Revenge>.'
There had been one thing that kept puzzling me.
At the time, the first target of the "Woodman Avenger" we encountered had not been me, nor even Laurent's party.
Who on earth could have killed more Woodmen than Laurent's party......? That had been my lingering question.
'If it's this bastard, that's more than plausible.'
Apparently, this monster had slaughtered the majority of the Avengers that swarmed toward him, then processed them into tables and chairs.
"Here is the menu."
Haitan extended the menu with a courteous motion.
Lucien Bistro
Steak as tender as an adolescent boy's tongue
1,000 seed
Aglio e olio chewier than the hopes of a young man fresh into adulthood
2,000 seed
Cream mushroom stew stickier than the greed of an old man on his deathbed
1,000 seed
⁝
Menu names whose excessive modifiers were oddly grating.
The names were unsettling, but I wasn't sure they warranted the fuss the Spiritist had made.
'Maybe it's because I'd seen so many horror stories back in the modern world.'
With that thought, I glanced sideways at Haitan, and the man was still wearing a smile that looked painted on.
'The prices themselves are cheap, though.'
Leaving aside his fucked-up philosophy and twisted values, this man's cooking skill alone was absolutely top-tier.
To eat food of similar quality at a proper restaurant, you'd probably have to pay at least dozens of times more.
But.
"First, I'd like to wash my hands."
Haitan's eyes turned toward me.
His already narrow eyes curved even more than usual.
"My apologies. This location was set up in a hurry, so the preparations are lacking. There's a stream nearby; if you don't mind, please wash up there."
I nodded and headed in the direction Haitan indicated. As I did, I naturally glanced sideways at the kitchen beyond the cart.
"......."
As expected, the rest of the party was there.
Bound with their entire bodies in sturdy iron chains.
'Everyone except Laurent looks all right.'
Kazen and the others had no major injuries.
It was what I had expected.
In a restaurant, ingredient preparation is usually done after the day's business ends, or at dawn the next day.
Shhhhh.
I washed my hands thoroughly in the stream where clear water burbled along, then returned to the table.
Without conspicuously looking around, I calmly surveyed the forest within view.
"......."
The scenery was good.
Maybe it was because it was an open clearing.
At a glance, it could pass for a special restaurant set in a forest with a fine view.
In reality, it would be like one of those absurdly overpriced restaurants nestled in a valley crowded with people.
It made sense.
'Because the <Return Point> itself is a place Magical Beasts don't approach.'
The location created by those conditions probably happened to suit Haitan's aesthetic sensibilities.
In other words, aside from that "peculiar culinary philosophy," Haitan was someone you could hold a conversation with.
'Even now.'
Even though I hadn't ordered right away and was taking my time, he stood quietly just outside my line of sight, being considerate of his customer.
That was the mark of an excellent waiter.
Of course, that didn't mean I should try to navigate a conversation with this guy from a normal perspective.
"A glass of water and one salad, please."
I said it as if I had no appetite.
Honestly, I could guess what the salad was made of too, but it was less off-putting than a meat dish.
But Haitan made a regretful expression and said,
"I'm sorry, but guests at this restaurant must order at least one main dish."
"Aha."
At that, I looked at the menu again.
"......."
Unsettling names. And on top of that, I knew. I knew these dishes were made from ingredients I didn't even want to imagine.
I couldn't bring myself to answer right away, so I changed the subject.
"By the way, why is the restaurant named <Lucien Bistro>?"
"Pardon?"
"It doesn't seem to be your name, Chef."
Haitan smiled gently.
"Lucien is the name of an old friend of mine. He possessed tremendous cooking skill and, more than that, extraordinary professional dedication. Naming my restaurant after Lucien is my way of showing respect."
"I see."
"By the way, may I ask your name?"
"I'm Kaindel."
"Oh, Sir Kaindel......."
Sir.
The moment that form of address came out, I nearly sighed.
Because I knew this madman only called customers he acknowledged in his own way by that title.
"Sir....... Your etiquette brings particular joy to the humble owner of this insignificant restaurant. Might I ask you to tell me your name once more? Your full name, if you don't mind."
This was a roundabout way of asking, "Are you perhaps a noble?"
I slowly shook my head.
"I have no family name. I'm just a Delver."
"Then before that......."
"I was a stoker."
"Oh. I see."
Even when the word stoker came up, Haitan's expression didn't change. He wasn't the type to judge people by their occupation in the first place.
"......Chef. Could I possibly use the space behind the kitchen?"
So instead of dragging things out, I got straight to the point.
Haitan tilted his head to the side.
"The space behind the kitchen, you say?"
"Yes. As I mentioned, I'm a Delver. I've just finished filling the Exploration Progress on my <Exploration Crystal> and was about to return."
"Aha. Together with your companions in the kitchen, I suppose?"
You son of a bitch. So you knew everything after all.
Haitan smiled faintly and said,
"They were rude. To be honest, releasing them is not an easy matter."
"Is there a condition?"
"A condition."
Haitan murmured the word ominously, then began to walk slowly with his hands clasped behind his back.
"You may not know this, but there are few professions that require a lifetime of devotion like that of a chef."
"Pardon?"
"Because one must endlessly create something new within familiarity."
Whether I stayed silent or not, Haitan continued.
"One must seek out countless ingredients, test every possible combination, and endlessly revisit even what has already been passed over. Sometimes new inspiration emerges from familiarity. In that process, the tongue grows dull, until eventually objective judgment becomes impossible. I call that a 'numb tongue.' Hmm. For a chef, there is no more miserable end."
"What are you trying to say?"
Haitan smiled faintly and said,
"Please evaluate my food, sir."
"......."
"Place the food I have made upon your tongue, chew it, savor it, and then tell me honestly what you felt. Then I will release your companions and yield this location as well."
So that's how it goes.
I looked at Haitan and said,
"I know what your food is made of."
"Oh, do you?"
"Some of those dishes are practically lethal poison. I could die before I even finished eating them. And you're asking me to eat that?"
This wasn't a joke or a metaphor. Just as this guy had said, Haitan's tongue had become afflicted with <Numbness>.
Because he had almost completely lost his sense of taste, he had started making spices and sauces that provided stronger stimulation...... and eventually went too far.
'Meat set on fire. Blowfish with its poison not removed. Fruit that explodes in your mouth when you chew it.'
In other words, to Haitan, running a restaurant was the process of finding test subjects who would eat his food and die for him.
"Sir. Historically, food and pain have been inseparable. Just look at spiciness. That is not a category of taste but pain, is it not?"
"I know. But surely there's a limit to everything. Something that melts your esophagus the moment you swallow it is too much to be called food."
The craziest part about Haitan was that even when he saw such customers, he persistently asked for their impressions.
"It hurts? It's painful? Exactly how painful is it? Is there no gap there for taste, aroma, or texture to slip in? Not even a little? Not the slightest possibility?"
⁝
"Ah. It seems you find it hard to speak. Very well....... Don't push yourself. Sometimes expressions convey more than words, after all. But you cannot stop eating, my guest. Please enjoy my food for a long time. Just a little longer."
Even while feeding people food that might kill them, Haitan dismissed the resulting pain as no more than a flavorful kick, like spiciness.
"How interesting. Somehow, you seem to know quite a bit about me as well....... From whom did you hear about this restaurant?"
"......"
"Well, that's not particularly important. Sir, your concern is valid, but it is an unavoidable process."
"Unavoidable?"
Haitan nodded.
"I don't believe there is such a thing as one perfect quantity in cooking. Even more so in this day and age. Species, person, taste...... eating habits, individual preferences, allergies—the differences are enormous. In other words, my principle is: 'You can't know a food until you try it.'"
"......."
"Haven't you ever had such an experience, sir? Something that looked unappealing and smelled awful, but when you tried it, it was surprisingly good."
You crazy bastard.
Every single point was sophistry, but refuting him further here would be meaningless.
'This is the chef Haitan, all right.'
An S-rank who could never be recruited as a companion despite possessing top-tier stats and combat ability.
In his pursuit of diverse flavors, this guy had conducted countless experiments on his own body, and as a result, he had become immune to all manner of poisons.
'The problem is that in the process, he almost completely lost his senses of taste and smell.'
Because of that, he could no longer objectively evaluate his own food, and he didn't even know how dangerous the food he made was. That was the reason this guy had built a restaurant in the middle of the forest and started doing business with Delvers.
Naturally, since his values were broken, normal conversation didn't work with him either.
"Now then...... sir. Let's put an end to the small talk—"
Haitan said,
"Please choose your dish now."
"......So I just have to eat it and give my critique?"
"Of course."
"Very well. But......."
I asked, as if the thought had just occurred to me.
"This restaurant, are animals allowed in as well?"