13. Everyone Except the Three, Get Out—If You Don't Want to Die
The banquet hall was packed with pretty much the entire merchant guild. Guess they figured with no customers around anyway, they might as well pad the numbers.
Aah, the bookstore owner got dragged into this too.
I leaned casually against the door at the back of the hall.
No popcorn? What a shame.
Up on the platform stood Iris and the inn manager.
Just watching absentmindedly, it almost looked like the merchant guild was raiding the two of them.
“Even after we've resolved the issue that caused problems, what brings you to our inn at this late hour?”
Iris stood quietly behind the manager, arms crossed.
Since the manager was the official person in charge, she was hanging back for the formal proceedings.
“You can't just suddenly stop selling bulgogi at the inn without any prior notice!”
“Right! And you put the merchant guild right at the top of that notice, shoving all the blame onto us!”
“Customers have dried up across the whole shopping district. People just pass by cursing us now.”
Hans, James, and Frank.
The three loudest voices in the guild.
Sure enough, they were up front, veins bulging in their necks as they vented their grievances.
Safe to say they were the ringleaders of this protest.
“I have no idea what you're talking about. Didn't you start protesting without even talking to us first?”
“That's not the same thing at all!”
Frank, spouting nonsense without any logic.
The manager kept arguing back without so much as a twitch of his eyebrow.
“How is it different?”
“We were just raising our voices for mutual prosperity! Owl's Nest Inn isn't some struggling little shop, is it?”
Right on cue—time to appeal to emotions.
I signaled Iris behind the manager.
When they go for feelings, hit 'em with cold logic.
“On that note, you should hear what our consultant has to say.”
Nice, signal received. Good job, Iris.
“Consultant?”
“Think of it as a business guide.”
I could feel all eyes turning toward my voice from the back of the hall.
I gave a quick explanation of consulting while boldly parting the crowd and striding up to the platform.
Maybe I'm an exhibitionist after all.
“Nice to meet you all. I'm Grid, the consultant for Owl's Nest Inn.”
“That's the merchant from the East!”
Great reactions. Introductions really are best left to others.
“That's right. Merchant from the East and in charge of the inn's bulgogi business.”
Well, technically I just sell the seasoning.
“So from here on, I'll answer your questions.”
Inn trial, start.
“So you're the one who messed up the market with that bulgogi?”
Frank jabbed a finger at me, snarling.
“Messed up the market? Selling good stuff and making a profit—that's Merchanting 101, isn't it?”
“Don't give me that crap after bundling bulgogi raffle tickets with lodging!”
“Exactly. Brilliant plan, right? I racked my brain to fill those empty rooms.”
“And that's why all our inn's customers flocked to you—leaving us with even more empty rooms! How do you take responsibility for that?!”
James stepped forward this time, yelling. He owned a nearby inn, right?
I'd asked Iris about it—whether this world had that homie culture thing.
You know, the bad habit where if one guy makes it big, he's obligated to support the whole neighborhood. Total mangled racist rumor, of course.
Turns out, no “we're family!” crap here. Family's family. Otherwise, outsiders.
Meaning no qualms about crushing them.
Let's take a swing at the whole guild first.
“We'll get to James's inn in a bit. First, let me explain why I came to this inn.”
Targeting the three right away would be amateur hour.
Better to claim the moral high ground over the guild.
“As far as I know, Owl's Nest Inn used to close during the academy's off-season. Correct?”
“Yes. It was less of a loss to close than stay open, so we shut down for breaks.”
“So why keep it open now?”
“……”
The guild went dead silent in an instant.
“Five years ago, the guild demanded the inn stay open for 'mutual prosperity' in the market. Right?”
“Y-yes……”
A small voice from the back corner.
I turned my head the opposite way and kept going.
“The inn kept open through off-seasons for five years, eating losses for your so-called mutual prosperity.”
I glanced at the three up front—they all averted their eyes.
“About 700 gold per break.”
“7… 700 gold?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
“While running a bigger deficit than any shop in the district.”
“……”
No one could speak. They'd never imagined Owl's Nest losing money.
Especially when half these shops probably earned less than 700 gold a year.
People don't worry about the big houses.
I'd been shocked too when I heard this during planning.
Thought Iris had some leverage over the guild.
Why else eat losses to stay open off-season?
Nope, just because she's nice.
A few days ago, she'd confessed sheepishly: “It doesn't wipe out the year's profits… and the district's for academy students, so I figured we could afford to give that much.”
I worship you, GOAT… If I could go back to reading the original, I'd never trash-talk her as a one-trick combat pony again.
I gathered my thoughts and reignited the stalled debate.
“The inn hired me to cut off-season losses a bit—without harming you all.”
First condition of the new dish commission: Create something totally new to avoid clashing with other eateries.
If a better kimchi jjigae place opens next to one, the original loses customers exponentially.
But a pho shop next door? Some go for pho, but kimchi fans stick to kimchi.
The commission was designed for that.
Problem was, I took it.
Ended up with a dish leagues better than anything, shattering the inn's consideration.
Like bringing prime beef to a combat rations fight—everyone flocks to the beef.
Handed the guild their pretext to charge in.
With such an overwhelming gap, they had no choice but to appeal to emotion and bully.
But their opponent's me—seasoned in 21st-century capitalism. Wrong move, guys.
“Plus, we canceled and refunded all rooms for guests affected by the bulgogi halt.”
Loss appeal, round two.
“We're eating complaints from sudden cancellations and the hit to our reputation.”
“Wh-who told you to refund and stop sales? Just share the recipe so we can sell too—no need for all that!”
Now they're dropping even basic politeness.
Seeing real-life 'Crazy bastard, you started it!'—wild.
No way.
“The bulgogi secret sauce comes from my trading company, imported from the East. The inn gets it via contract with me, so no recipe sharing.”
If they back off here, I won't bury them.
But of course, no such luck.
The three's eyes lit up knowing the secret was the sauce.
“Even better! Sell that sauce to us too! Make it a district specialty—no more 100-serving limits!”
“Right! If you can't serve everyone, let us take the overflow!”
While most stood meaningless, these three still scheming for profit—impressive.
That's the greed you need to be a merchant.
They'd charged an elf sword saint's inn, after all.
No way they'd bow to some Eastern drifter.
“Fine. Since you inn and restaurant folks are so eager, here are three options. Pick what suits you.”
They perked up at “options,” smug as ever.
But their faces twisted in horror at my choices.
“First: Pay for the sauce. One gold per serving.”
“What?”
“You're insane!”
“What kind of robbery is this!?”
“It's made from rare Eastern ingredients. Even that's cheap considering scarcity.”
I ignored them and continued.
“Second: Each side picks a champion for a duel. Winner's terms stand.”
“Ahem.”
Iris's cough from behind froze everyone.
Get it? Pick two, and you're fighting her.
“Third: Pretend nothing happened and go back to before your protest.”
Leave quietly, and it's forgotten.
Originally just the first two, but Iris begged for this last-chance mercy option.
“Take time to decide. We'll be back in about ten minutes.”
*
15 minutes later.
Back in the hall. Guild in the same formation.
Three idiots up front, rest like reeds.
“Decided on an option?”
Hans, James, and Frank exchanged glances at my question.
“We won't bow to these unfair choices!”
“We'll report you for price gouging!”
“When academy starts, we'll protest nonstop and spread this everywhere!”
Figures. Gotta draw blood to end it.
“You three aside, is everyone else on board?”
“……”
“Yeah! We're speaking for the guild!”
“Die together, live together!”
“No traitors here!”
The three bellowed threats at the silent merchants behind.
In a tight neighborhood, crossing them means awkward faces forever.
Especially with loud, action-oriented thugs like these.
Most just followed out of fear of retaliation.
Was gonna shame the three and call it, but…
End it like that, and who knows what happens to the rest behind my back.
Money-hungry types won't let “partners” slide.
Alright. Time to finish this.
I signaled the manager. He pulled papers from his coat and handed them over.
“Hans, James, Frank.”
They flinched at the dropped honorifics.
“You each run one inn or restaurant. That's why the 'big hit' claims.”
I glanced at the papers.
“When Owl's Nest couldn't take guests, folks needing rooms and meals went to your places.”
In my hand: data from Adventurer's Guild commission, tallying visitors to other shops.
“Nobles come for bulgogi, stay at Owl's Nest—their servants crash at nearby inns, right?”
Iris had commissioned it when starting bulgogi sales, worried about market harm.
“Owl's Nest restaurant full? They eat at nearby spots, obviously.”
Data showed no drop-offs—only gains in similar businesses.
Meaning their whole argument was bullshit from the start.
“You three just wanted to gut the golden goose. Right?”
They didn't just cross the line—they pole-vaulted it. Shoulda known it'd bite.
“Wh-what?! We definitely lost customers!”
“Yeah! Fabricated data!”
“Regrettably, this is from an official Adventurer's Guild request. They handing out fakes now?”
Iris's words locked the trio's faces in stone.
No merchant punk challenges the guild's authority.
I turned to the people behind them.
“No bulgogi till academy reopens. Notice stays up.”
Unease rippled at my firm tone.
“But anyone leaving now? We'll remove your name from the notice. No blame.”
Some back there run inns or eateries too.
But they didn't cross lines.
Felt the customer boost or had some conscience.
Can't punish folks swept up in the mood.
One left. Damn, trusted the bookstore guy.
Then two, three, the rest.
Guild emptied—except the three beasts.
“Th-this can't… We'll report you…”
Shoulders slumped, the trio deflated. Only Frank muttered weakly.
I approached slowly.
“We'll make a new notice with just your three names. After that, we stay out—handle it yourselves.”
“You…! You…!”
Frank's blood pressure spiked—I ignored, turning away.
That instant—
“You ruined everything! Die!”
Frank whipped out a dagger, lunging for my chest.