The Elf and the Best Meat
“Wh-what? Why are you suddenly crying?”
“Sniff… hic…”
Irit was shedding tears while chewing on the sweet and sour pork in her mouth. This was odd. The flavor was undoubtedly perfect. There was no chance of any meat contamination inside. I'd already tested the menu thoroughly in advance. So why?
“Um… boss, is something wrong? Maybe it doesn't suit her taste…”
Aris crept up to me cautiously and whispered.
“No way. You tried it yourself.”
“W-well, it was really delicious to me, of course…”
“What the hell is going on with her?”
I watched Irit anxiously. After a while, she picked up her fork again and resumed eating amid her sobs.
“Munch munch… hic… waaah… munch munch…”
Irit started devouring the sweet and sour pork and dumplings, rolling them vigorously in sauce. But the tears kept flowing. Watching her, a memory suddenly overlapped in my mind. It was the day I announced I was quitting as an adventurer and leaving the party. All my other comrades had cheered on my new future, but one person alone… Irit couldn't accept me going.
She'd grabbed my pant leg, sobbing hysterically in the inn room to keep me from leaving. Her current state reminded me exactly of that.
“Waaah… so… good… too good…”
Finally, Irit voiced her verdict on the food. As expected, there was nothing wrong with it. So she must be crying because…
“Take it slow so you don't get indigestion. I can make more if you want.”
I spoke gently to Irit, who was eating through her tears. It seemed like she'd need more time to calm down.
How much time passed? Irit, who had been a blur of eating and crying, finally regained her composure. The plates in front of her were scraped clean. I worried if she'd truly savored the flavors amid all the tears, but she seemed satisfied with my cooking.
“Crying ruins the taste. Next time, savor it properly.”
“…No, it was plenty delicious.”
“So why the waterworks?”
With things settled, I asked what had been bugging me. She'd always been prone to sudden tears, but this time I had no clue why.
“I dunno… just happened.”
“For the record, I'm not coming back to adventuring.”
“Yeah, I know. I don't think the grand mage Klaus would half-ass something like this. If you came back, it'd just be my selfish wish.”
Maybe because she'd cried it out, Irit spoke with surprising calm.
You knew that and still kept hounding me here? As that thought crossed my mind, she spoke again.
“I just… really felt it this time. That you truly can't—won't—come back. Guess that's why.”
“If I was gonna return, I never would've started this.”
“And I regretted why you never cooked stuff like this for me back then.”
“That's…”
I had nothing to say to that. An adventurer's life wasn't exactly leisurely. We often made do with hunted game from the roadside. In monster-infested forests or dungeons, we couldn't camp long in one spot, so we whipped up the best we could with what we had. Since Irit was the only vegetarian in the party, meals were meat-heavy for everyone else. I'd quickly prep the main meat dish for the group and hand her a veggie soup or salad—that was it. She'd always watched us gorge on lavish meat feasts from the sidelines.
It wasn't that I neglected her; it was just the reality of the situation. Still… looking back, I felt a pang of guilt for not doing more for Irit. Back then, I was too focused on my adventurer path ahead.
I'd assumed, as an elf, she'd be fine with veggie soups and salads. But deep down, she probably craved the same food and satisfaction we got. With so much on my plate during those adventuring days, I never considered her feelings that deeply.
“…Come here anytime. I'll make whatever you want.”
I said it with sincerity to my old comrade, Irit.
“Yeah… By the way, does this place actually get customers?”
She poked right where it hurt. Irit had fully regained her usual poise.
“Of course it does. How could I run a restaurant without them?”
“Says the guy who's never had even one when I've visited.”
“Ugh…”
She had a point. My concept was a regulars-only spot, but customers were scarce. Probably because I'd opened in a remote area flanked by monster zones, far from the city. When choosing the location, I brimmed with confidence—my skills could draw regulars even at hell's gates.
“No one's come since that one customer reserved and left~”
While I fumbled for a retort, oblivious seaweed-ghost Aris chimed in to Irit.
Irit eyed me quizzically.
“A restaurant with no customers… The location's the problem from the start. Who'd come here?”
“…On purpose. I don't want crowds.”
“Yet you jump up full of hope every time I arrive, then deflate.”
“…”
She noticed that too?
“Come back? To the party?”
“Hell no.”
“Hmmm…”
Irit slowly scanned the restaurant interior.
“Got something to say?”
“You've always been a bit sloppy on this stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
She flashed a slight smile.
“Back in adventuring days, you'd hyperfocus and miss the obvious detours.”
A memory from those days surfaced. Once, in a dungeon, the final door was magically sealed. We had to open it for the relic inside. As grand mage, I analyzed the spell and reversed the mana flow. It was profound and took three days for one door. When I finally cracked it, another identical door waited inside. Then Irit scouted and found a key in another room that unlocked everything instantly. I'd assumed we had to dispel the magic manually—total letdown. She'd said back then:
—You get fixated and miss the easy paths.
“So what am I missing now?”
I asked Irit. My restaurant experience—from my past life included—far outstripped anyone. But it was all geared toward thriving businesses. I wasn't expecting much, but her words might hint at something.
“There's a saying: If you're crossing the line, go all the way.”
“…Huh?”
“Your restaurant crossed the line… but only halfway.”
Irit stood, grabbed the menu board.
“Opening in such a hard-to-reach spot, yet the menu's ordinary. Operations too. Feels half-assed.”
“So you have a better idea?”
“To be truly special, go all in. Like… ditch this pointless menu. Make it the ultimate restaurant no one can just stumble into. Once they do, satisfy any craving perfectly! Reservations required! Like the 'best meat dish' you made me. What do you think?”
No menu, no walk-ins. A place tough to reach, but delivers any dish flawlessly. It made sense. Running like a normal restaurant now wouldn't draw anyone. Better to stoke curiosity and challenge—hook gourmet adventurers, lords seeking unique eats. If word spread it's no ordinary spot, customers might come.
“Didn't expect real advice from you.”
“'Unexpected'? It's all from experience.”
Irit shrugged smugly.
“But to deliver 'anything', you'll need insane skills. One unhappy trekker, and poof—restaurant's toast. If that happens, I'll take you back, Klaus.”
“As if it'd flop. I'm confident in my skills.”
“…I know, just teasing. So uptight.”
Irit gathered her sword and gear, prepping to leave. We weren't comrades anymore. Yet she still felt like one from back then.
Maybe I should overhaul like she said. Current setup's going nowhere. The continent's one-of-a-kind no-walk-ins special restaurant. My ex-grand mage status could be a draw. Even the zoning-out seaweed-haired ghost waitress Aris.
“Come anytime my cooking calls. Bring the others too.”
“Duh, I'll be back. Don't flop by then?”
Irit headed out. After she left, I quietly snapped the menu board in half and tossed it in the trash.