Even a Nun Can't Resist Chicken and Beer
Bjorn quietly stroked his beard as he listened to the nun’s impassioned, rage-filled rant.
The image of Saintess Aria, whom he had encountered, flickered through his mind. Although she had looked gaunt, suffering from the weight of fatigue and responsibility, her youthful face and the strangely curvaceous figure that couldn't be hidden even beneath the Saintess's high-quality robes remained vivid.
And that strangely contrasting benevolence and maturity, so unbefitting of her age...
Bjorn nodded inadvertently and muttered to himself.
"Hmm... that guy really knows his stuff, doesn't he?"
"Pardon? What was that just now..."
The nun asked back, her eyes wide like a rabbit's.
"Oh, oops! N-no, nothing. I must have lost my mind. I just finished a grueling labor, setting up heavy steel barbed wire and swallowing clouds of dust, so I must have been so hungry that I momentarily went delirious."
Bjorn waved his hands in a hurry, somehow managing to steer the conversation with a smooth lie.
"Anyway, now that we've finished this back-breaking physical labor," he said, glancing up at the sky and raising his voice.
"Listen here, oh noble Patron! How about you treat us to something greasy and delicious for a snack this time! I'm so hungry I can't move another inch!"
At Bjorn’s shameless begging to the void, the nun burst into a small laugh.
"You really are something, Elder. Even if He is omnipotent, do you really think He’ll just drop something down for you just because you asked?"
Before the nun could even finish her sentence.
A tribute has been sent by your Patron.
Vwoom—! Thud!
The air between Bjorn and the nun distorted, and a large box dropped heavily onto the ground.
"Hahaha!"
"He actually gave it to us!"
Bjorn and the nun looked at each other, their jaws dropping.
The box was emitting a warm heat, as if the contents hadn't yet cooled, and the smell wafting through the gaps was nothing short of destructive. The ultimate savory aroma of deep-fried oil, mixed with a salty and spicy scent, instantly seized the air.
Bjorn gulped, his throat bobbing, and carefully tore open the side of the box.
Inside were several square paper boxes with steam rising from them, and long cans with cool beads of condensation clinging to their surfaces, packed tightly together.
"Oh... I told you so!" Bjorn cheered, inhaling the scent deeply. "This is definitely the smell of meat fried in high-quality oil..."
He carefully picked up one of the paper boxes. Printed on the outside was a strange picture of a muscular orc struck by lightning, holding a golden piece of meat and chewing it with an ecstatic expression.
[Crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside! Golden Olive Great Chief Chicken!]
Though the letters and the picture were still incomprehensible, Bjorn easily tore open the seal of the paper box.
"My goodness..." A sigh escaped the nun's lips.
Inside the box were large pieces of chicken, fried to a dazzling, crispy golden brown. The clear sheen of oil on the clean batter sparkled brilliantly.
"Everyone, come here! It's snack time!" Bjorn shouted at the top of his lungs.
At that sound, the dwarf warriors who had been planning to fix the toilets, the children, and even the other nuns came running as fast as starving hounds, regardless of their race, wondering what was going on.
And the moment they caught that destructive scent of fried food, everyone’s footsteps came to a dead halt.
No one said a word, but saliva was already dripping from their chins like Niagara Falls—no, like dogs.
Bjorn quickly scanned the number of chicken boxes in the container. "Hmm. It looks like He gave us plenty to match our numbers... Let's see. For some reason, there seem to be a couple more than our headcount?"
Bjorn felt a strange sense of incongruity, but he began distributing the boxes one by one to the starving souls panting like beasts before him.
"Alright, don't fight, eat slowly! And make sure to grab one of these cans filled with liquid!"
As soon as the children received their share of the boxes, they sat on the floor and tore open the lids.
"Hot! It's hot!"
They grabbed the pieces of chicken, which seemed to have been fried just moments ago, with their small, fern-like hands and shoved them into their mouths in a hurry.
"Whoa! It's so delicious!"
"It's crispy! The juices are exploding!"
The children shed tears of emotion while tearing into the chicken legs, not even noticing that the roofs of their mouths were getting scorched.
The young nun also took a bite of the chicken piece allocated to her after making sure the children were fed.
Crunch!
With a cheerful friction sound, the thin, crispy batter shattered, and the hot, salty juices trapped inside poured out like a waterfall, filling her mouth. The soft, chewy texture of the chicken and the subtly lingering spicy seasoning ruthlessly violated her tongue.
"My goodness... My goodness!"
The nun opened her eyes wide, forgetting even to chew. "Not just the street food in the city, but even the fried dishes sold by renowned chefs wouldn't have this perfect quality! To think they used flour as fine as snowflakes for the batter and used such clean, fragrant oil so generously!"
She muttered, looking dazed as she held the piece of chicken.
Bjorn also silently took a bite of a chicken leg and closed his eyes. It felt as if the fatigue of the long journey—from the moment he escaped the mines to fighting shadow monsters and the back-breaking work of repairing the castle walls and installing barbed wire—was melting away along with the savory flavor of the golden oil.
"Ugh... eating meat makes me thirsty."
He picked up a silver can from the corner, beaded with cold water droplets. The sensation of the cool liquid against his palm struck his bones pleasantly.
Bjorn scrutinized the surface of the can. A mark shaped like shimmering golden liquid and large grain ears was engraved on it.
"A grain mark... this is obviously a barley drink, in other words, beer!"
And thanks to the canned goods the Outer God had dropped in the past, he knew all too well how to open it.
He hooked his finger into the ring on the top of the can and pulled it back with force.
Hiss—! Snap!
With the cheerful sound of carbonation, the lid on top of the can rolled up smoothly.
"Oh?"
At that moment, white, creamy foam began to swell crazily inside the can and erupted out of the opening like a volcano.
"Ack! My precious booze is overflowing!"
Bjorn reflexively pressed his lips against the can and greedily sucked in the overflowing foam and golden liquid like a vacuum cleaner.
"Kuaaaaah!"
The extreme cold hit his throat. Tens of thousands of tiny carbonation bubbles burst along his esophagus, cooling his stomach as they washed it out. The desperate escape, where he had to lead young kin who didn't have beards as long as his own, dodging monsters in the midst of a catastrophic disaster, crossing the threshold of death. The heavy responsibility and the old grime of fatigue that he had to bear alone as the elder.
With this one sip of amazingly cold beer, it was all washed away as if by a waterfall, leaving him feeling refreshed.
"Puhahahaha!"
Bjorn, having emptied half the can in one go, wiped the foam from his mouth and clicked his tongue.
The sensitive palate unique to a dwarf began to analyze the Outer God's beverage in an instant. "This is on a different level from the cheap, murky, mud-like swill sold by humans in the back alleys. They’ve perfectly balanced high-quality hops, just like our dwarf master brewers, to completely eliminate that unpleasant bitterness."
He continued to marvel, stroking the cold surface of the can. "And this extreme cold. To think they could pack the coolness of something aged for ten years in a deep underground ice cave into this small piece of metal. This overwhelming pressure technology that makes fresh foam rise on its own the moment you open the lid is truly the pinnacle of overwhelming technical prowess that I wouldn't even dare to imitate."
Of course, it wasn't perfect.
"Though, it’s a bit disappointing for our tastes that it’s flavored with some unknown light grain rather than a heavy wheat profile. And decisively..."
Bjorn drank the rest of the beer and smacked his lips.
"Why am I not getting tipsy? The hop aroma and carbonation are perfect... but I can barely feel the alcohol. This isn't alcohol; it's closer to carbonated water with a barley scent."
He frowned, crushing the empty can.
"This is no way to treat beer and a dwarf. If you’re going to make us do hard labor, you should give us strong liquor with a high alcohol content. You seem to be quite stingy, all things considered."
As he grumbled toward the void and turned his head, Bjorn’s gaze stopped in one corner. At that moment, the little dwarf Rogi, who had been sitting next to the children, boldly popped the lid of the beer can from the chicken box, just as Bjorn had done.
Hiss!
White foam erupted from Rogi’s can like a volcano as well. The human children and nuns sitting nearby also followed suit, fascinated by the sound, and opened their own cans.
"Kyaaa! It's overflowing!"
"My foam is spilling out!"
As foam overflowed everywhere, the children and nuns hurriedly put their mouths to the cans and gulped down the cold liquid, just as Bjorn had.
"Kuaah! Refreshing!"
"This is super fizzy and delicious!"
The children cheered at the thrill of the carbonation and emptied their cans. The nuns were also marveling at the cool refreshment, washing away the greasiness of the chicken.
Watching that peaceful and joyful scene, Bjorn finally slapped his knee as if he’d been hit on the back of the head.
"Ah... so that’s why He gave us non-alcoholic beer with the alcohol taken out."
The young nun, who had opened her can late while taking care of the children, brought it to her lips and carefully let the golden liquid slide down her throat.
In fact, it wasn't a taboo for a nun to drink beer. Drinking was strictly prohibited when staying in church facilities where clean water could be drawn. However, it was a different story when they were sent on long-distance business trips to the frontier or dispatched to remote areas where the cleanliness of drinking water could not be guaranteed.
It was an old custom and a rational survival method in Eden to drink beer, which had killed germs through the fermentation process, as a substitute for drinking water and for calorie replenishment, rather than drinking rotten water and dying from epidemics or stomach ailments.
The young nun also had quite a bit of experience quenching her thirst with lukewarm, murky, cheap beer while doing poverty relief work during her novitiate.
"This is..."
But the moment she took a sip of this canned beer sent by the Outer God, her eyes widened in pleasant shock.
"How can beer taste like this?"
The beer she knew was a liquid where grain dregs settled thickly at the bottom, mixed with a strong, stinging bitterness and a musty smell.
But there wasn't a single speck of dregs in this golden beverage sliding down her esophagus now. It was as clear and light as glacier water in the mountains, and the thrilling refreshment of the carbonation seemed to awaken every cell in her body.
Moreover, the unpleasant bitterness of the hops had been perfectly removed, leaving only a savory and clean aftertaste. It was the first time in her life she had encountered a beverage that boasted such a perfect harmony with crispy, greasy fried chicken.
The nun held the can tightly with both hands, sipping it carefully and letting out exclamations.
"And I don't feel dizzy even after drinking it."
She wiped her chest, inwardly relieved as the punishment of the past flashed through her mind. Even if beer was permitted as a substitute for drinking water, terrible punishment awaited if a nun showed the unseemly sight of stumbling or spouting nonsense while drunk.
It was a disciplinary measure that involved kneeling on an ice-cold stone floor and enduring dozens of lashes, or being locked in an underground solitary cell without a single ray of light, forced to offer prayers of repentance for seven days and nights without a drop of water.