Chapter 484: The Cow Goes Moo
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 484: The Cow Goes Moo
Kitchen Gluta. It was a pretty famous restaurant in Ende. While its fine ingredients and skilled chefs contributed to its fame, the introduction of a delivery system was the real game-changer. By using alchemical containers to solve the biggest problem with delivery—the dishes—it expanded its influence and successfully cornered the market before any competitors could follow suit.
I, too, had been satisfied with Gluta's service and had ordered from them a few times, but after nearly getting stabbed, I couldn't just let it slide. How dare they endanger me by selling pork disguised as beef? They knew what they were doing, didn't they? They were going to have to compensate me for this.
“Owner, get out here!”
“Woof! Get out here!”
I kicked open the door to the restaurant, from which hot steam was billowing, and shouted.
“Selling pork and calling it beef? What a rotten thing to do to a customer! Give me my money back right now, and compensate me for my medical bills!”
“Woof! Compensate him!”
I’d burst in shouting aggressively, but for such a famous restaurant, Kitchen Gluta didn't have a single customer in sight. I figured if I came in and made a scene, they'd hand over the money just out of embarrassment.
“What the hell. Did this place go out of business?”
“We are open for business.”
A heavy voice echoed from inside the kitchen.
“I was wondering who was causing a ruckus in my restaurant.”
A massive man walked out from the kitchen. He was so tall that, despite the high ceiling, he had to duck slightly to get through the doorway. His white clothes and apron did little to hide the intimidating appearance of a beastkin standing over two meters tall.
Most notably, he had curved horns on his head. A ring piercing his nose, like a bull's, revealed his true nature.
The owner and head chef of Kitchen Gluta. And a bull beastkin. Gluta snorted, steam puffing from his nostrils as he looked down at me.
“It's one of two things. You're either a pig beastkin, or a customer who got hit by them. Seeing as you don't have the ears, you must be a customer.”
He must have meant I didn't have beastkin ears, but for some reason, it sounded to me like a threat to remove the ones I did have. Instantly rediscovering my manners, I clasped my hands together and spoke politely.
“…Yes. That's right. I was recently attacked, and I'm afraid I got a little carried away.”
“We treat our customers like kings. Don't worry. I won't be grilling your face on the hot plate.”
Which means if I wasn't a customer, he would grill my face on the hot plate, right? Haha. Why does that not sound like a joke?
I'm glad I'm a customer.
“First, before I apologize… Customer. Did you really eat it without knowing it was pork?”
“Of course. How was I supposed to know?”
“But there's a clear difference in taste between pork and beef.”
What? Is there? There's a significant difference in taste between pork and beef? Isn't all meat just meat? Why didn't I know?
Come to think of it, there's only one reason. It's because of the damn Military State. They only ever fed us processed, compressed meat, and even that was only about once a month. No wonder I can't tell the difference between pork and beef!
“…Well, you know, there are all kinds of people in the world.”
“An outsider who earned money and settled in Ende? In that case, I'm even more sorry. I never imagined someone like that could exist.”
Dammit. I'm the one who got tricked, so why am I the one feeling more embarrassed? If I'd come to the restaurant myself and read his mind, I wouldn't have been fooled. The delivery guy also delivered it without a second thought, believing it was beef soup. How was I supposed to know!
Anyway, I got a straightforward apology, but an apology made only with words is only half an apology. Sitting in a chair, I lifted my chin defiantly, yet still spoke with a measure of politeness.
“So. What are you going to do about it?”
“I have my pride as a restaurant owner. If you show me the receipt, I will compensate you for the corresponding amount… but.”
Gluta continued, a reluctant look on his face.
“Realistically, it's difficult to give you a full refund.”
“You just said you have your pride.”
“I don't have the money.”
What? Why does that sound like the truth? No, more importantly.
“A restaurant this big and famous has no cash? And you expect me to believe that?”
“There's a reason for it.”
“What is it?”
“You must have experienced it yourself. That's why you came to me, isn't it?”
Suddenly, it made perfect sense. They had driven even someone as bold as me to come all the way to a restaurant and cause a scene.
“The pig beastkin?”
“That's right. To be precise, an organization formed with the Piggies at its core. Okma.”
'Piggy' is a derogatory slur used to look down on pig beastkin. 'Orc' was the name they were called when they were once a symbol of fear. Gluta had mentioned both terms at once.
To understand why those two names came to be, one must first understand beastkin. Beastkin are a race that has inherited some of the traits of animals. However, they haven't lost the advantages of being human, so beastkin are fundamentally more physically gifted than humans.
Dog beastkin have keen senses and agility.
Sheep beastkin have thick wool and a sense of balance that lets them easily traverse steep slopes.
Bull beastkin have great strength and patience.
Horse beastkin have overwhelming speed and endurance.
Thus, those who possessed the strengths of animals showed exceptional performance in their respective fields.
In comparison, the advantage of the pig beastkin was… survivability.
They don't get sick from minor ailments. They can eat anything. They bear many children, and true to their beastkin nature, their sharp instincts help them avoid the dangers of the wild.
Naturally, the pig beastkin population steadily grew, and they formed their own clans to rule the land. Back then, they weren't called pig beastkin, but Orcs.
But that's a story from the old days.
As the touch of civilization reached across the continent and nations expanded their territories, the haphazardly run clans gradually declined. The pig beastkin, whose strength lay in their sheer numbers, either died resisting subjugation or surrendered in disgrace.
It's a common story. The fall was as great as their once-glorious history was brilliant. The pig beastkin were cast down to the dregs of society, branded with the slur 'Piggy'.
Gluta crossed his arms and snorted.
“Those bastards, who had been slowly gathering power, started getting serious a few years ago. When they were just calling for better treatment for Piggies, everyone in Ende understood… but then they started making absurd demands, like putting Piggies in high-ranking positions in Ende, or telling people not to eat pork. Now, they're attacking not only the people who sell meat, but also the people who eat it.”
“What a bunch of crazy bastards. But it looks like this place hasn't been attacked?”
“It hasn't. I turned the faces of anyone who tried into pressed meat.”
…Looking at those bursting muscles and hard calluses, I can believe it. Yep.
“The Piggies must have realized they couldn't take me on, so now they've resorted to terrorizing my customers. They follow customers who visit the restaurant and attack them. Even I can't stop assaults that happen outside my establishment.”
“So it is kind of your fault.”
“My customers dwindled, and my suppliers were also affected. As the losses mounted, I swallowed my pride and tried to switch to beef… but it's impossible to overhaul everything from suppliers to unit cost to recipes. So I pretended to have lost to the Piggies, tricked people into thinking I'd switched to beef, and changed the menu. It was fine for a few weeks.”
“And Okma just happened to find out, and I was targeted to be made an example of, is that it?”
“It would seem so. You don't appear to be injured… but that's not what's important. Okma wanted to make it known that a customer was attacked.”
True. The Piggy who stabbed me was clumsy, and he'd aimed for a non-lethal spot anyway. It seems the act of stabbing me was more important than actually killing me.
Okma. Okma, huh. For a secret organization, their actions are pretty small-scale. Not that small things aren't important, but… it seems insufficient to attract the Regressor's attention. The Regressor is probably too obsessed with the Wolf King to give a damn about something like Okma, right?
Pig beastkin who stop people from eating pork. As I mulled over that sentence, Gluta's horns happened to catch my eye.
“Wait a minute. You're a bull beastkin, aren't you?”
“Just as you see.”
“Then why did you say you were selling beef soup?”
“There are several reasons. First, if I'm replacing pork, there's no other meat besides beef that's good for soup. Also, me, a bull beastkin, selling beef… it seems acceptable.”
So it's okay as long as I'm the one selling it. I get the sentiment. But that wasn't what I wanted to ask.
“Gluta. Do you have any reservations about using beef?”
If pig beastkin are reluctant to eat pork, does the same line of thinking not apply to bull beastkin?
At my question, Gluta let out a deep sigh. It was so deep that his lips trembled with the force of it.
“It's not that I don't. I definitely do.”
“But you were selling it, weren't you?”
“My restaurant, my customers, and my pride take precedence over some flimsy reservations. If the cost had been right, I would have switched to beef. That's not a lie.”
He was being sincere. But unlike what he'd said before, this statement lacked solid conviction.
“…However, when I found out the cost of beef soup was too high… there was a part of me that was relieved. That much is also certain.”
'When I cut off horns like my own and put them in a pot. When I slice the head meat, boiled until tender. An unsettling feeling lingers in my hands. Most of all, when I try to taste it…'
Gluta shivered slightly and confessed with a conflicted expression.
“So, while I hate the Piggies, as a fellow beastkin, I understand their anger. To a certain extent.”
As I read Gluta through our conversation and my mind-reading, the emotion I felt was neither sympathy nor bewilderment. It was anger. But it was directed elsewhere.
It just reminds me again how shitty the Military State is. They fed us nothing but beans, to the point that I can't even tell the difference in the taste of meat.