Prologue: The Ghostly Dine-and-Dash
Late evening. The restaurant hadn't seen a single customer all day—not even a fly buzzing around. Good thing I had plenty of savings stashed away, or this place would've gone under ages ago.
But then again, I never opened it to make money in the first place.
I was confident in my cooking. In my previous life, I'd been a chef with a Michelin star and four gourmet ribbons to my name. Every place I worked at got featured on TV food shows, packed to the gills with customers. But in the end, I burned myself out—neglecting my body for work every single day—and dropped dead in the most pathetic way. Cause of death: acute myocardial infarction from overwork.
So this time, I wanted a place just for my own satisfaction. A restaurant where only a handful of regulars showed up, where I could unleash my culinary philosophy to my heart's content and heal my soul.
Ding-a-ling—
I was just finishing up with the ingredients and about to lock the door when the bell rang.
A customer? Finally?
“……”
A woman whose hair and clothes were soaked through. No rain outside, though. Weird.
Her long hair hung like wet seaweed, completely covering her face. But from the slim line of her jaw and her snow-white skin, she looked like she could be quite the beauty.
“Dining alone?”
“……Yes.”
“Take any seat you're comfortable with.”
Probably the first—and last—customer of the day.
“Decided on the menu? What can I get for you?”
I asked the woman, who had settled at the counter.
“……Something warm. Like home cooking……”
“Pardon?”
“Warm home cooking… like Mom used to make……”
An odd order. But I didn't feel like telling her to pick from the menu. With her hair dripping wet like that, she seemed to have some story behind her.
Warm home cooking like Mom's, huh. Kimchi jjigae or doenjang jjigae sprang to mind first. But in this world, “Mom's home cooking” meant something else: a bland stew thrown together with random veggies and tough meat, paired with rock-hard bread. That's what came to mind around here.
This was a restaurant. No matter what, I couldn't serve something tasteless to a customer.
Anything warm and full of heart would do. “Mom's home cooking” wasn't about the specific dish anyway.
I headed to the kitchen and got to work.
Snap!Whoosh!
A flick of my right hand lit a fire under the pot. I filled it with water, stir-fried some vegetables and meat, then seasoned it with my homemade tomato paste and chicken stock. A touch of flour slurry to thicken it up. Rice on to cook, and a quick toss of salad with tangy yuja dressing.
Beef stew set complete, in record time. It looked like the kind of ordinary fare you could get at any roadside inn.
But cooking wasn't about flashiness. Good ingredients, precise cooking times, perfect balance of flavors. Even the simplest dish could be delicious.
“Here's your order.”
I set the tray down in front of her: stew, rice, salad. Poured a glass of non-alcoholic ale on the side so she wouldn't choke.
She stared at the food for a moment, then quietly picked up her spoon.
I hung back a bit, watching her eat.
Hope she likes it.
The spoon dipped into the steaming stew. She brushed the hair from her face with one hand and took a bite.
“……!”
Her eyes flew wide open. Then the spoon started moving noticeably faster, scooping up mouthful after mouthful.
I watched her devour the stew with relish, a satisfied smile on my face. Looked like the food hit the spot.
When she finished, I asked, “How was the meal?”
Her expression was noticeably brighter. When she'd first walked in, her wet hair had hidden her face, but now…
“Yes… I've never had stew this good before.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.”
“It was so warm… and strangely, it made me think of my mom.”
Stew was common fare in this world. But moving someone with it? That took skill.
She'd polished off every last bite, smiling contentedly. After serving a customer for the first time in ages and getting that reaction, I knew I'd sleep well tonight.
That's what I was thinking when—
“Thank you… I'm so glad I got to eat something like this.”
Her body started to fade away, bit by bit. Eyes closed, still smiling.
“Um… miss?”
“Thank you… thank you……”
Fade…
Her voice grew fainter and fainter. Her increasingly transparent form vanished completely in an instant.
“A ghost……?”
I muttered blankly at the empty spot where she'd been.
Figured she had some backstory. Turns out she wasn't even alive.
The stew bowl was scraped clean. She'd eaten every side dish too. No idea where the food went in a ghost, but…
Maybe she just wanted one last warm, heartfelt meal before moving on. One that reminded her of her mom… and then she passed to the afterlife.
Aww, how touching.
Everything was great, all good, but…
“You still gotta pay.”
I quietly began chanting a spell.
Grand Mage Klaus. Master of elemental magic. The one who first pioneered Meta Control—the art of finely manipulating mana.
That was me.
A genius talent worthy of the title. I'd spent fifteen years as an adventurer, earning fame as a grand mage.
My final feat: sealing the Abyss Rift with my comrades, a tear that could've ended the world.
After that, I, Grand Mage Klaus, declared my retirement.
I used my adventuring earnings to open a restaurant: Misikdang Slow.
The name meant exactly what it said: enjoy it slowly.
A vow never to serve mere belly-filling slop.
“Hoo… Hoooouuu… S-sorryyy… I was wroooonggg…!”
And now, the wet-haired ghost girl was on her knees before me, begging forgiveness.
I'd been thrilled to have a customer after so long. Who knew it'd be a dine-and-dash ghost?
She had no idea, vanishing all blissed-out after her meal with a thank-you, like she was ascending to the heavens. No clue that I was Grand Mage Klaus, who could pin down even a spirit.
“A satisfying meal deserves proper payment. That's just common sense.”
“No restaurant in the world charges ghosts!”
“And scraping the bowl clean and devouring everything is normal ghost behavior?”
“Uuuu……”
The ghost girl puffed her cheeks, glaring up at me with a face full of complaints. She'd come in all mysterious and tragic at first, but now she was just a freeloading pest throwing a tantrum for a freebie.
I'd caught her with magic and was giving her a scolding, but truth be told, I had no intention of actually collecting the full bill.
I just couldn't stand someone enjoying my food and showing zero gratitude.
Money? I had more than enough.
So cash wasn't the issue. Any sincere form of repayment would do—I'd forgive her then.
“What's your name?”
“……Aris.”
“You look young. How'd you end up like this?”
Ghost Aris had long hair. Soaked, like wet seaweed.
Ghosts in this world weren't anything special. When someone died with lingering regrets, their spirit lingered in the form they'd had at death. Spirit mages called them “echoes of life” for that reason.
“Drowned. In the lake.”
“That's why your hair's always seaweed-wet?”
“I want to dry it, but it never does……”
Aris wrung out a handful of dripping hair. The drops hit the wooden floor and evaporated like mist.
Guess dying wet made the soaked body part of her spirit now.
“Anyway… how're you planning to pay for the food?”
“You're really gonna charge me?”
“Of course I'm really gonna. Why fake it? If I wasn't, I wouldn't have grabbed you. And hands up straight!”
Wet-seaweed-head ghost Aris raised her hands high again, looking miserable.
But a ghost with money? Unlikely.
So what could I take as payment?
“Hmm……”
Looking closer, she was pretty cute. A bit underdeveloped, like she hadn't eaten well in life, but still. That eternally dripping long seaweed hair was starting to feel like a quirky charm.
Didn't a woman fresh out of the shower have that same oddly alluring vibe?
Come to think of it, my restaurant barely got any customers. I'd chosen this remote spot for a laid-back regular-only vibe, but it was too remote. I was lucky to get one a week.
I was confident in the food.
So what this place lacked was…
“You. Work here.”
“Huh?”
“No money, no way to pay? Then work it off.”
“B-but I'm a ghost? No physical form?”
“Magic'll fix that.”
She tried a timid protest, looking flustered. No dice.
I was Grand Mage Klaus. No form? Not a problem.
“Beef stew set: 300 lira. Deduct 30 a day.”
“That's expensive…!”
“Hiring a ghost who can barely help? Standard rate. Or pay up proper.”
“Uuuuu……”
She had no choice.
And so I temporarily hired a ghost waitress.