Chapter 9
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Devil's Hand Emerges from the Sea (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hahaha! So the knight finally acknowledges our Dominic's skills! The guy's got no manners, but damn if his food isn't out of this world. Knows every ingredient under the sun, and he's got this knack for whipping up wild cooking methods that blow your mind. Heh heh, in that spirit, one more bowl!"
"Ah, rice ain't cheap, you know!"
Dominic grumbled as he piled a heaping mound of rice into the bowl, but there was genuine affection in his hands.
"Uncle, it's good, right?"
"Yeah, it's good. Stop talking and let me eat."
"It's important, so hear me out. So, what are we gonna do about that now?"
"About what?"
"The seaweed—no, the Devil's Hand."
"If the knight helps out, we'll figure out a way to chase off the Farmer Turtles. Once the turtles are gone, uprooting the Devil's Hand is a piece of cake. Just a few good divers working a couple days, and done."
"Do we really have to uproot it all?"
"What kinda nonsense is that? Like swallowing a ghost's shit? Of course we uproot it!"
"Why?"
"Why? So we can fish for meat, that's why! If the Devil's Hand grows, we can't launch the fishing boats."
"Even the small ones?"
"You could float a rowboat or something, but that won't get you to the deep sea. One big wave, and you're fish food. Can't go fishing to end up as fish food yourself."
"Do we really need the big fishing boats?"
Kallon furrowed his brow. It felt like he was being toyed with.
"What's with the word games? You're not picking a fight with me, are you?"
"Me? I'd never. One punch from you, and I'm done."
"Then what's the point? Saying we gotta have fishing boats? Of course we do! How else we gonna make money without catching fish?"
Kallon sighed in frustration. Ian felt the same. Dominic's intentions were a total mystery.
That's when Dominic grinned and pointed at the table.
"This stuff's good, right?"
All three pairs of eyes turned to the same spot.
"Do we really have to stop here? It's just a tiny village with nothing to sell..."
The young man—a worker for the small merchant caravan and the leader's grandson—whined to his grandfather. Even to his inexperienced eyes, the fishing village looked like it had nothing worth buying.
"Evergreen's a small fishing village, sure. But will it be in five years? Ten? You never know with people, kid. Can't judge by appearances."
"But..."
"And for a little outfit like ours, even small trading spots matter. Gotta treat customers right."
"Yes, Grandpa."
But as they reached the village edge, the old merchant sensed something different.
The villagers' oddly excited bustle suggested they definitely had goods to sell.
"Well, if it isn't the old timer!"
"Village Chief!"
"Haha, cut the Village Chief crap already. It's a hassle, so I dumped it on this guy."
"Heh heh, still as stubborn as ever."
Kallon laughed heartily and clapped Dominic on the back.
"We've met before, right?"
"Yeah. You bought our dried shellfish and smoked fish at good prices."
The old merchant was impressed when the young new Village Chief greeted him. He'd gotten multiple requests for rare ingredients not common in the empire—garlic, peppers, onions—and sourced seeds for them.
"Brought three sacks of rice this time. What do you think?"
"Of course. I'll take 'em all. Eaten yet?"
Dominic, checking ingredients on the cart, suddenly remembered and asked.
"Rushed here so fast, missed mealtime. Mind if we borrow your fire?"
"Forget that—join the Fishing Cooperative for lunch? Right on time."
"Room for us?"
"Plenty. Help yourselves."
Dominic's beaming smile lit up his face.
Ian, watching from a distance, shook his head like he couldn't stop him.
'Mornings and evenings are still chilly, so their bodies must be stiff.'
Small caravans couldn't afford much for keeping warm. Plus, this coastal spot meant hours in damp sea winds—bodies would be locked up tight, no doubt.
"This way."
But Dominic led the merchants to a seaside tent.
It was more like four poles holding up loose cloth against the sun—wide open to the winds from all sides.
"Oho! Seaweed today? Nice—."
"Even beef! Whose birthday is it, Dominic?"
"Special meal day, every ten days. Loaded with shrimp meat, so roll it up with rice. Limit two bowls—pace yourselves."
"Boss scarfs five every time, so Dominic's pinching pennies now!"
"Someone hears that, they'll think you light-eaters!"
"Kuhahaha!"
The Fishing Cooperative folks chattered noisily as they got their servings.
The first ones slurped the soup straight down—"Ahh, hits the spot!", "Hot soup's the best in the cold!", "Clears last night's booze right up!"—and such exclamations flew.
"...What's this, Kallon?"
"Seaweed. Or whatever—sea plant...? Try it. Warms you right up. Heh."
The caravan leader hesitated at the unfamiliar black soup. The aroma made his mouth water, but he'd never seen black soup in all his years.
"Gulp! Wow, what is this? So good! Grandpa, try it! Fun texture too. Ahh—deeper than any seafood stew at a decent inn."
His grandson, though? Opposite reaction.
No preconceptions meant no hesitation—he gulped it down and raved.
"Not spicy, and the black stuff, shrimp, beef—all stewed soft. Perfect for you, Grandpa. Hurry!"
"Really? Alright then... Oh!"
Urged on, the leader grabbed the bowl two-handed like the villagers and slurped.
'Soothes the gut.'
Road food was always torture for his old age.
Dry jerky, hard bread, gritty grain mush strained his bad teeth and digestion.
'No time to simmer proper broth on the trail.'
They made soup camping, but without time or ingredients for stock, it was basically salty water.
"Must've taken work prepping. Hours, I'd bet."
"Beef today, so yeah, simmered a good while. Hour or so? Regular mussels would've been twenty minutes."
"...Twenty minutes? For real, Village Chief?"
The leader, slurping happily, blinked wide-eyed.
"If that's true, means this black stuff packs that much flavor."
"Pretty much."
"Sell it to me! Won't cheap out on price!"
Merchant instincts flared; he blurted a blank check.
"Enough volume?"
"Plenty."
"Hm, fresh, so hard to haul much... Let's see..."
"Not fresh. Here."
As the leader pondered logistics, Dominic showed salt-dried, neatly sliced seaweed pieces.
"Soak in water ten minutes, stir-fry in sesame or perilla oil, add water—done. Easy, right?"
"Whoa, no way! Seaweed? Thought it was sea plant... something. More common name?"
"There is one, but..."
Dominic hesitated slightly.
They'd tasted it, seen the potential—but names mattered for ingredients.
"Devil's Hand..."
"Devil's Hand? Oh, that merciless horror growing in the sea? What about it?"
"..."
"...No way...?"
"It's just the name..."
Clang—.
The metal spoon hit the ground with a clink.
"...Let's call the deal off."
"Wait!"
The leader's reaction was harsher than expected.
He stood abruptly, like there was nothing more to see. Dominic had figured it'd be like Kallon or Ian—not this.
That's when—
"I'll buy it! Trade with me!"