Chapter 208
Chapter 208
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 208
Chapter Title: Wrapping Up? (3)
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Twinkle-twinkle-tara-tan! Twinkle-twinkle-tara-tan! Tan! Tan!!
Parara-pam! Pwarrara-pam! Pam! Pam—!!
Bbang-bban ttaldan pamppa ttara-dan da-da-da-randan ding-tanda-da-dan!!
The lively piano melody echoed through the restaurant hall.
In time with the music, a neatly dressed chef in a crisp white shirt and vest rolled up his sleeves and began cooking.
Shing. Shing. He sharpened his knife,
thwack-thwack. pounded the cutting board,
swish. Swish. blended spices to simmer a sauce,
sizzle-sizzle-crackle! and after letting the rested meat sit briefly in a pan of melted butter, he basted it repeatedly to enhance the flavor.
Even in his suit, his movements flowed as naturally as water.
A mouthwatering aroma followed his motions, drifting from the kitchen into the hall.
"Hmmm..."
The restaurant owner and head chef smiled faintly in satisfaction with his handiwork as he plated the finished dish.
He added a garnish and drizzled on a special sauce.
The result was a dish like a masterpiece painting.
Magnificent.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
The chef said as he presented the perfect steak.
With clean, skillful motions befitting his refined appearance, he placed the plate on the table.
A sight that would naturally fill any guest with satisfaction.
Though the guest, who knew the chef's and the dish's true nature, felt nothing of the sort.
"Not eating?"
The chef, seated across from his guest, asked while savoring his own creation. Unlike his lean, muscular build without an ounce of fat, he seemed to genuinely enjoy his food.
"Not really into eating people... Enjoy it yourself."
At the guest's words, the chef cut a small piece of the tenderly prepared thigh meat, speared it with his fork, and savored it.
"Mmm... Even without you saying that, I always enjoy my food. It's a great blessing, after all."
Slice. Slice. Stab—
The chef cut another piece and popped it into his mouth. His face shone with immense satisfaction and joy.
It was astonishing that such a stern face could smile like that over mere food.
The chef himself explained why.
"Especially me—I've known starvation, so I understand just how great a blessing food is, how much of a privilege a delicious meal is. Heaven isn't far away. This is heaven... You really won't have any?"
"I'll pass with thanks."
"Well, can't be helped."
After finishing his own portion, the chef took the guest's untouched plate and began eating it himself.
"Waste is a sin, after all. Though with Puppet's puppets, it's not much of an issue since you repurpose them differently."
The guest... no, Puppet fell silent. Watching him, the chef... more precisely, the human-flesh chef, spoke up.
"So, what brings you here? It's been over ten years since we last sat face-to-face like this."
"Fifteen years. I came because I have a request."
"A request?"
"Yes. You sent your disciples to Randa."
Clink. Clink. The human-flesh chef sliced his meat without a hint of disturbance and ate it. Chew-chew-chew. He swallowed.
"Hmm, I don't recall... Though some overzealous kids might have acted on their own."
"I see. In that case, you'll have no trouble granting my request to stop clashing with Crime Firm."
"Haha. That might be difficult."
The chef replied, sipping a bloody wine aged with blood. He wore a faint smile.
"Foolish as their independent actions were, they stemmed from loyalty. As their master, don't I have a duty to avenge my disciples?"
"You never cared about duty before."
"True enough. But isn't that justification plenty for me to make a move?"
"Since when did you care about justification?"
"When there's something I want, I do. You know that."
"I'll give it to you."
Clunk. The human-flesh chef's knife, which hadn't paused once, stopped.
"...What I want?"
"What your disciples were after—the mummy of the mage king slumbering in the desert sands, right?"
"...Go on."
"I negotiated with Crime Firm and bought it. I have my own uses, but I'll give it to you."
Pinpointing exactly what he desired left the human-flesh chef speechless. Even among those who'd lived centuries, experience made a difference.
"Generous offer. Even negotiating for that wouldn't come cheap."
"Worried about my wallet?"
"Ah, sorry. I was thinking in my league... What do you want in return?"
"Nothing. Just stay out of this matter, and keep your eyes off Seland too. I've taken an interest there lately."
"An interest? Not sure if that's good or bad for me... Ah, is it because of that fixer? The... Dave guy?"
"......"
"Not on your level, but I have my whispering mouths too. Since he took down my disciples, I'd know his name at least. Oh, and I heard you met him yourself, Puppet?"
"Yeah, quite the entertaining fellow."
"Hmm... And he survived? Now I'm curious too."
"Me too."
"...Pardon?"
"While forming a new team in Gallos to target you, he's stirring up trouble in the United Kingdom too."
"Think I'd fear them?"
"Not your usual cautious style... Ah, a gift for your beloved little sister?"
Shwaaaaaang!!
As emotion surged from the human-flesh chef's body, black light erupted outward like blades, sweeping the surroundings.
The blade of momentary rage tore the air and carved deep gashes into the marble floor, walls, and pillars.
A chilling threat. Yet astonishingly, this was him holding back for his opponent's sake.
Proof: Puppet hadn't flinched.
"Did I anger you? Sorry. Kill me if you want. We've tried it before, haven't we?"
"...No such intent. Just poor emotional control. Please understand."
"I do. And I apologize too. One shouldn't speak lightly of others' family. Forgive me?"
"...Yes."
"Good. So, about my request?"
Puppet adjusted his posture and asked.
"...Of course I'll comply. Who am I dealing with here?"
"Thanks. Well, I'll be off then."
"One question before you go."
"To me?"
"Yes. You're the longest-lived of the Black Hands and the only one I can have a proper conversation with."
"What is it?"
"The Sleeping Princess's prophecy has finally begun."
"Did you visit the forest?"
"No, couldn't meet her. But I remember her words from before. When a massive hole opens at the world's end, the clock will start ticking... The hypocrites control it, but I confirmed: a gateway to hell opened there. What do you think, Puppet? Has the promised day arrived?"
"Who knows. After living so long, all I've learned is nothing is certain. All we can do is prepare and stay cautious."
"If you learn anything later, please let me know. I'll cooperate. I want to live."
"If I learn anything."
Puppet said no more and left. The vast restaurant hall held only the human-flesh chef now.
He gazed at the meat on his fork and murmured.
"Our era comes soon."
He chewed and swallowed.
"Back to work already?"
Inside the magic tower grounds. Elemental School tower. At the lab at the end of the most secluded hallway, Kevin greeted him. His red skin and long black hair were neatly tied back.
"Yes, Professor. Nothing happen while I was out?"
"What do you think?"
Kevin asked, and Oliver looked him over.
He was buried in a pile of documents.
"You look busy."
"Good eye. Now help."
"Yes, sir."
Oliver promptly took off his jacket and approached.
Hundreds of sheets, all in the same format.
"All class registration forms for this semester. See the requested courses section?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Split them by subject, sort names alphabetically. Then check student info and record as noted here. Got it?"
Kevin's curt, clear instructions. Oliver accepted gladly.
Whatever the task, now that he was tower staff, he wanted to contribute.
Using the facilities and getting paid without working felt off. Not that Oliver, who'd skipped days on his own whim, had much room to talk.
"If you make even one mistake..."
"Pardon? Problem, Professor?"
Kevin had opened his mouth to warn Oliver but closed it upon seeing him work.
Oliver handled the papers with the efficiency of years in an office job.
"...Ever done this before?"
"Briefly, a few days."
"A few days?"
Kevin asked, and Oliver nodded.
After Jonathan's commission—recovering auction items and capturing the human-flesh chef's underling—officially wrapped, Oliver jumped into the next task.
That was heading to X District with Forrest to update Fighter Crew on Crime Firm negotiations. Not a big deal, really.
Crime Firm director Gordon Goodheart had smoothly convinced the board, securing terms the crew would like.
The real issues were managing it going forward—for Forrest—and raising the crew's skills to meet Crime Firm's demands—for Oliver.
No easy feat.
Thus, Oliver and Forrest practically commuted to X District for days, training crew members.
Not like the first group where extraction was shaky; the numbers just multiplied the effort.
Plus helping with Forrest's paperwork.
Oliver stayed swamped but quickly grasped the tasks' context, importance, and tricks.
"First sort done."
Oliver said after neatly dividing the messy stack into three piles.
"13th-year [Intro to Fire Magic and Basics]. 14th-year [Basic Code Application]. 15th-year [Basic Magic Combat]. All sorted. Details by lunch."
Considering it was 10:20 a.m., tight timeline.
But after handling nearly 300 Fighter Crew forms with just Forrest and Al, it was nothing for Oliver.
Kevin, not hating the attitude, glanced at him.
"By 3 p.m. today. Better than rushing and erring."
No intent to err, but Oliver just said yes without extras.
Working with Forrest and Al taught him: follow orders first, adapt as needed, skip opinions.
"Can I take these to the staff room to check?"
"Yeah. Don't lose 'em."
"Yes, sir... Mind if I ask something?"
With immediate work done, Oliver ventured cautiously.
Kevin looked mildly annoyed but allowed it.
"What?"
"You said no classes originally, but why so many suddenly?"
"Beats me. I wanna ask Ice Princess why she's signing up for mine."
"Ice Princess?"
"Yeah, the girl who came your first day for schedule info. Said she wants my class."