Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: The Disguised Baker
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58
7
The one redeeming quality of Broken World, the infamous flop of a game known worldwide, was its graphics and OST.
Thanks to that, the Broken World OST still lingered in my ears whenever I closed my eyes, and the hyper-realistic graphics, more lifelike than photos, allowed plenty of people to recognize familiar faces.
The man who had just stepped out of the bakery in front of me—Jorga—was instantly recognizable thanks to those stellar graphics.
His height, hair color, eye color, and even his face were exactly the same as the ones I'd seen on my monitor.
"Oppa, I have something to take care of real quick. Sorry, but could you wait for me?"
"Be back soon?"
"Yeah, I'll be right back. ...Please look after my little sister."
She handed Erica off to the following attendant.
I hurriedly pursued the guy.
"Damn, where'd he...?"
I lost sight of him amid the crowd.
Glancing around, I spotted his back in the distance.
He was slipping into an alley.
I dashed into the same alley, but he had vanished completely.
No trace of where he'd gone.
"Tch, fast on his feet. More importantly, why is a guy who's supposed to be skulking around Hilfenberg here...?"
Jorga was originally a villain who appeared in the Hilfenberg Ducal Territory.
So why was he in Agrit County, far removed from the ducal lands...?
Well, no point asking since no one would answer.
I headed back to Erica first.
I'd have to uncover this slowly.
"Sorry for running off like that."
"Ugh..."
Erica looked utterly dejected.
The already small girl seemed even tinier.
She lifted her green eyes and asked, shoulders slumped.
"You seem upset...?"
"No, I'm fine."
"But your face... looks really scary..."
My face?
I glanced at the attendant, who nodded.
Only after checking my reflection in the nearby shop window did I realize I was scowling.
Jorga's sudden appearance must have tensed me up unnecessarily.
I relaxed my expression and scooped Erica up.
"Sorry, Oppa was just lost in thought. It wasn't anything serious about you, so don't worry. More importantly, didn't you want to go to the bakery? Shall we?"
"Yeah...! Let's go!"
Erica perked up as if her sulkiness had been a lie.
Right, no need to overthink it.
Jorga was in Tatron anyway.
With my lord's authority, tracking him down was just a matter of time.
For now, since I'd come out for Erica, I should focus on her.
We headed to the bakery with light steps.
In the meantime, the attendant quietly whispered in my ear.
"Young master, were you looking for Mr. Bread by any chance?"
"Mr. Bread?"
"The man who just left the bakery is Bake Bread, the new baker who recently arrived in the territory. The bread served at last night's dinner was his work."
His real name was Jorga.
Bake Bread was obviously an alias...
But seriously, disguising himself as a baker and picking the name Bake Bread?
Talk about zero effort.
But that worked in my favor.
Now that I'd uncovered his disguise, no need to waste time searching.
Pondering how to deal with him, I flashed the attendant a bright smile.
"Yes, I have business with him. Could you arrange a private meeting?"
8
"Pain de campagne...?"
Bake Bread, perfectly dressed as a baker, echoed the order.
I nodded while admiring his well-built oven.
"Yeah, that."
Pain de campagne.
A traditional French bread, a hard roll eaten as a meal staple alongside baguettes.
More famously known from an old movie as the giant loaf Jean Valjean stole.
Anyway, putting that aside.
The reason I'd abruptly ordered pain de campagne from Bake Bread was simple.
It required at least three hours for the base dough, then a day of cold fermentation, followed by another day at room temperature.
Not only the dough but the fermentation needed precise temperature and humidity control, and the large loaves for meals weighed over 5kg pure dough each.
In short, it was brutally difficult to make.
I didn't suddenly crave bread.
Bake Bread spilled his secrets easily when pushed too far.
This was just a little provocation to make that happen.
"I'd like it for meals."
"Yes, understood. If it's for the lord's family, I'll put my all into baking it. Will portions for four suffice?"
Bake Bread approached with a sycophantic bow.
I grinned at his face.
"I never said four portions."
"Pardon...? Perhaps guests...?"
"No, you know I'm attending Esterro Academy, right?"
"I've heard you're away from home for your studies, young master..."
"I just took first place in practicals. It's a rare occasion worth celebrating, so I want to share the joy with everyone at the estate."
"You don't mean... everyone at the estate..."
"Yeah, not just family, but all the servants too."
How many servants worked for the Agrit Count Family?
I didn't know the exact number, but it was easily over two digits.
Realizing that, the self-proclaimed Bake Bread's face drained of color.
His pale blue eyes trembled like there was an earthquake—fun to watch.
"So you're ordering pain de campagne for the whole family and all the servants...?"
"Exactly. You get it. Can you do it?"
"Well..."
Bake Bread's eyes darted around.
Of course—a daunting order even for a skilled baker.
Especially since he'd opened shop just two weeks ago with a forged Royal Culinary Academy diploma.
He couldn't confidently claim he could.
"Graduates of the Royal Culinary Academy should handle this easily, right?"
I'd blocked his escape.
The Royal Culinary Academy—the top institution honing only the kingdom's finest talents.
His forged diploma was now his shackle.
"Well, uh..."
Desperately searching for an out, perhaps.
He avoided my gaze and stalled.
Admirable effort, but no mercy here.
I needed to know why a Hilfenberg operative was here.
First, force him to drop the disguise by pressuring his fake identity.
"No way you can't? That's a shame. Father was looking forward to it."
I pressed subtly, feigning surprise, and he frantically shook his head.
"N-no! I can do it!"
Hook, line, and sinker.
I smiled in satisfaction.
Now to pry out the secrets behind that lazy alias.
All of it necessary, of course.
Not revenge for ruining my peaceful vacation from the start.
No, definitely not.
9
"You're pretty good at kneading dough."
"Of course! When you, take an order, you put, your artisan spirit, into it!"
The self-proclaimed Bread Baker battered the massive dough with his whole body.
It was so huge it threatened to spill off the workbench.
Over 5kg, easy.
With that much dough, it looked just like a slime.
Bread dough slime... totally plausible monster.
"Whew... Perfect timing. Now just add the yeast and let it ferment."
Finished kneading, the self-proclaimed Bread Baker wiped his sweat.
He pulled a glass jar of yeast from under the workbench.
"You cultivate your own yeast?"
"No, this is store-bought."
"Oh, not homemade?"
"Yes, there are better commercial yeasts available."
I see.
Something clicked.
"I prefer bread with homemade yeast."
I smiled as I said it, and his hand froze.
He widened his eyes in disbelief and asked back.
"What did you say...?"
"Make your own yeast and use that."
"......"
They say the one getting hit knows best where it hurts.
And I knew best how to push to the breaking point.
Drawing from bitter experience, his hands trembled.
Let's drive it home...
This should be enough, right?
"This is just a minor tweak, no big deal?"
"I can't do it!!"
Flour-covered from head to toe, the self-proclaimed Bake Bread dramatically hurled his baker's hat.
Flour puffed everywhere.
I shook off the flour from my hands.
"What's wrong?"
I feigned surprise first.
It'd piss him off more.
"There's a limit to unreasonable orders! Young master! Suddenly demanding I cultivate my own yeast! The dough's already done...!"
"Can't?"
"No...! Cultivating yeast takes at least a week more...!"
"Why not cultivate it ahead?"
Snap.
Something broke.
Probably someone's mental thread.
"Right now... I don't have any cultivated yeast... Can't make it on the spot....... Have to use commercial..."
"I'll wait a week then."
"Young master, what about the dough I've prepared...?"
"Throw it out. What else?"
Bake Bread froze in place.
The dough piled behind him looked like at least 20kg.
He'd prepped enough for 40-50 people without rest.
Hadn't even started shaping or second rise.
Telling him to scrap it and start over... his sanity must be shattering.
"Isn't a baker's job to make bread that's good for you and delicious?"
Even I cringed at how obnoxious that sounded.
Completely zoned out, the self-proclaimed Bake Bread rubbed his dry face and let out a hollow laugh.
"Haha, hahaha... hahaha!! Screw this, damn it! Killing a lord's son won't be an issue!"
He lunged suddenly, yanking a knife from under the workbench—not a kitchen or bread knife, but a sharp dagger.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Can't you tell? Trying to kill you! I'm not a baker; I'm an infiltrator on a mission!"
Hmm, classic Broken World villain.
Explaining his whole backstory unprompted.
Dropping the mask fast was textbook too.
"Too bad you switched to combat mode so quickly..."
"What are you talking about?"
"Means I'm cuffing your wrist."
I drew Deathwise.
Broad daylight, but that didn't matter.
Instead of the blade, I struck repeatedly with the flat side against the self-proclaimed Bake Bread.
"St...! Urk! Damn! Argh!!"
Infusing my rage at nearly losing my peaceful vacation, he screamed in agony.
Bake Bread himself wasn't a skilled fighter.
Infiltration and intel ops were his specialties.
Even head-on, victory was assured.
-Thanks to this one's daily training sessions.
Right, the demon sword's drills too.
I'd finally gotten the hang of moving properly.
A exhausted-from-kneading self-proclaimed Bake Bread was no match.
I sheathed Deathwise once he passed out.
Wiping sweat from my brow with my sleeve after a good workout.
"Whew!"
Ah, refreshing.
Now my vacation's peace was secure...!