Dark Moon
You have selected Dark Moon.
The game begins.
“…….”
I sat blankly on the sofa. I was certain I had only napped for about an hour, yet it felt as though I had slept for dozens of hours and only just woken.
I checked the time and rose from my seat. There were things I needed to do today. I pulled on my coat and headed downstairs.
I ran into a silver-haired maid carrying a laundry basket. The maid uniform suited her remarkably well; the moment our eyes met she offered a soft smile.
“It seems you are going out, Master. When will you return? I shall prepare a meal to match the hour.”
“I’ll be back before seven.”
My gaze fell on the laundry basket she held, and a wave of embarrassment hit me. My underwear and hers were tangled together inside it. Especially hers—half of those pieces barely looked like underwear at all.
“I will have dinner ready by that time. Please take care on your way.”
Outside, I boarded a carriage bound for R-district. Once I arrived I continued on foot through the streets.
R-district was a commercial hub, the kind of bustling quarter frequented by the middle and lower classes. I had leased a shop tucked away in one of its alleyways.
No choice, really. Storefronts in R-district are so popular that listings almost never appear.
The few commercial spaces I had stumbled across were obscenely expensive, far beyond my reach. The only reasonably priced option was this little place down the alley.
The shop was still under construction. The workers I had hired were busy transforming the interior.
Nestled deep in the alley, the place was small—barely five or six pyeong. Once the kitchen and dining area were separated it would feel even tinier.
My shop.
Looking at it filled me with a swelling sense of pride.
Every preparation had gone smoothly. By greasing the right palms through a broker, the commercial permit had been issued almost immediately.
The signboard was not yet hung, but the name was already decided.
Yuyu Chicken.
The “Yu” from Yujin. The “Yu” from Yuria. Together: Yuyu Chicken.
Without Yuria I never could have started a chicken business at all.
The most important thing in a chicken shop is the taste of the chicken, and I had zero talent for cooking. The first time I tried frying chicken from a rough recipe I remembered, the result was pure garbage. A few more attempts only wasted perfectly good birds.
That was when Yuria stepped in.
Thanks to her help, we finally perfected the chicken.
Not just fried chicken—seasoned chicken as well. I planned to push both as our mainstays.
All I have to do at the shop is fry the chicken exactly the way Yuria taught me.
Oil at the temperature she specified, chicken cooked for the exact time she specified. That was it. For now she would continue handling the brining and the sauce.
Even when I watched her and copied every step, the flavor always came out a little different. I simply could not match her touch.
I can’t dump everything on Yuria just because she’s my maid. This is my business.
I had no intention of offering mere words of thanks. A portion of the profits would go to her.
Still, until the factory is up and running properly, I’ll need her help.
I had no plans to be satisfied with this tiny shop. My goal was a franchise.
Every location has to taste exactly the same. That means a factory is essential—brining the chicken and producing the sauces there, then supplying every franchise store.
If the business succeeded I would rake in enormous sums. And enormous sums would make me a noble.
A rosy future seemed to unfurl right before my eyes.
“You’re opening a chicken place?”
Just as I was about to sink into daydreams, someone spoke to me.
A middle-aged man in a yellowed T-shirt. I knew him.
John Clark. He ran the fish-and-chips shop directly across from mine. He approached with a grin. The smell of grease clung to him. Unpleasant.
“Yes. A chicken shop.”
“I don’t like the idea of more frying going on… You planning to go head-to-head with me?”
“…You sell fish and chips. I sell chicken. They don’t even overlap. What’s the problem?”
“It’s all fried food, isn’t it? Just kidding. I’m not really worried. Want to know why?”
“Why?”
“People in Neo London don’t like chicken.”
John flashed a grin. His teeth were steel—nothing as fancy as a full cyborg, just reinforced metal replacements. In this world that barely registered as unusual.
“…….”
“Well, good luck. Three months at most, I’d say.”
He turned and disappeared back into his shop.
Citizens of Neo London did not care for chicken. He was right about that. Did he think I had opened a chicken shop without doing market research?
Chicken in this world is greasy and bland. There’s even a saying that you’d rather eat fish and chips than chicken.
But the chicken I intended to sell was Korean-style fried chicken—something Neo London had never tasted before.
Korean chicken will sell. I’m one hundred percent certain.
I handed out drinks to the workers still on the job, then walked the surrounding streets. No competing shops posed any real threat.
After finishing a job that involved roughing up some thugs, I stopped by the manpower office and told them I would not be taking commissions for a while.
“That so? Shame. Your stock was rising nicely. Lately a lot of people have been asking around, trying to request you by name.”
Rose lifted a cigarette to her lips with her mechanical right arm. Black hair slid like silk over her shoulders. A black rose tattoo marked the right side of her neck; below it, the unbuttoned collar of her shirt offered a faint glimpse of cleavage. I forced my gaze back to her face.
“I’ve only been active a short time and I’m already that well-known?”
“You’re a 5-Class mage who actually gets the job done. Zero failures out of twelve missions. Your reputation’s starting to spread.”
“They were all easy jobs.”
“That’s not how other people see it. And be honest—facing the Palace Family was a little rough even for you, wasn’t it?”
“…….”
I recalled the memory. The Palace Family was a mafia outfit from outside the city. Dealing with them had been a bit of a struggle.
“You’re making a name for yourself as a free mage. Keep taking jobs and building connections like this… in a year or two you could become a real heavyweight.”
“I’ll say it again. No commissions for the time being.”
“Because of that chicken place? Yuyu Chicken, was it? Completely out of character. I honestly don’t get it—what’s a 5-Class mage doing running a chicken shop of all things?”
“The chicken shop is just the beginning. I’ll grow the business… eventually expand all the way to the central districts.”
“Dreaming big, aren’t we? That desperate to become a noble?”
“Once you’re a noble, a lot more doors open.”
“Wouldn’t it be faster to keep doing this work? Keep taking commissions and you’ll hit nobility sooner. You’re already 5-Class.”
“Even if I became a noble that way, the other nobles would look down on me. In the end I’d just be a mercenary-turned-noble with nothing but magic to my name.”
“Then get stronger.”
“To be treated properly in noble society you’d need to be at least 8th Class. Do you really think I can reach 8th Class?”
“…….”
Rose closed her mouth.
In this world, 7th Class marked the boundary of the superhuman. That did not mean 7th Class was rare—if you looked hard enough you could find them. But 8th Class and above were truly scarce. No one spoke of that realm lightly.
“…Fine. Your mind’s made up, so I won’t stop you. You’re not quitting commissions forever, right?”
“I’ll take them when money’s tight or when I have spare time. And if possible… I’d prefer rewards related to magic. Elixirs aren’t bad either.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when something comes up.”
She fed every document on her desk into the shredder—papers listing open commissions.
With the conversation finished I stood to leave.
“Wait. I’m genuinely curious… why the hell are you running a chicken shop? You’re a 5-Class mage.”
I knew this world well—but only the game’s setting. The finer details of how it actually ran were still opaque to me.
Mages were the same. In this world they were better known as researchers. In a city with advanced civilization there was little reason for a mage to handle combat.
But the only mages I know from this world are combat mages. In the game, combat was what mattered most.
Beyond that I knew almost nothing about how people here lived day to day—what they ate, what they wore. With such basic common sense missing, the businesses I could realistically choose were limited. And among them, chicken seemed to have the highest chance of success.
“Because I like chicken.”
“Is that so? When the place opens, bring me some. I’ll give you an honest review of how bad it is.”
“Looks like I’ve already got my first regular.”
“Ha. Fair warning—my palate is pickier than you think.”
I knew.
Her true identity was that of a noble.
But pickier than mine?
“One free coupon with every chicken. Collect ten and the next one’s free. Make sure you save them.”
“Coupon or no coupon, if it tastes like garbage I’ll spit it out right there.”
Grand opening!
At last the day arrived.
I came to the shop early in the morning and looked around. It was my first time running a business; my heart was pounding. Even though we had finished a thorough cleaning the day before, I wiped the already spotless shop down one more time, then put on a hygiene cap and apron and stepped inside.
Inside the refrigerator waited pre-brined chicken and the secret seasoning sauce Yuria had prepared. I poured golden cooking oil into the fryer and turned up the heat. Soft drinks and beer were checked as well.
Everything was ready.
Nine-thirty in the morning.
Thirty minutes before opening, the door swung open and someone entered—a young woman with brown hair.
Karel Orising.
The part-timer I had hired for today. She would handle the floor. I would look for kitchen help once the shop stabilized.
“I’m not late, am I?”
“Right on time. Just put on the apron.”
I handed her an apron embroidered with “Yuyu Chicken.” She slipped it on and stood waiting blankly. Thirty minutes remained until opening.
“…Would you like to try some chicken?”
“Ah—no. Chicken first thing in the morning is a bit…”
The disgust in her voice reminded me once again how poorly chicken was regarded here.
I smiled quietly to myself. She had probably taken the job thinking a chicken shop would be an easy, customer-free gig… but soon she would be too busy to catch her breath.
She thinks I pay above the usual hourly rate for no reason.
I made small talk with her until the clock struck ten, then opened the shop.
As an opening promotion we were running a twenty-percent discount.