Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: A Bear of a Chef
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He looked like a bear. There probably weren't many men to whom the term "burly" suited better. A man who seemed more suited to a military uniform than kitchen whites stood beside the waitress.
"Chef."
The waitress said. Was this hulking brute the head chef? The man called Chef bent down, picked up the silver coin, and placed it in the waitress's hand.
He acted as if the nobles staring blatantly from up front were beneath notice.
The situation had gotten interesting. Interesting enough that Guchi wanted to put off heading back to the inn. He started to speak to Lander. Let's stick around and watch a little longer.
But he couldn't open his mouth. Lander's expression was ambiguous. He seemed glad to see a familiar face, yet embarrassed, like he'd been caught in a blunder.
What was clear was that he wore a more "human" look than ever before. And so Guchi held his tongue. He wanted to let Lander sort through his thoughts undisturbed.
He stroked the head of Jenny, who was pressed tight against his side. She shot sidelong glances at the nobles, annoyed yet frightened by their crude bullying.
"Nothing'll happen. Even if it does, Uncle'll handle it. Looks ain't everything—this guy's the real deal."
"The real deal?"
Jenny blinked and stared at Lander, as if scrutinizing him point by point to see where.
"Not just some rich uncle?"
"Rich, yeah. And killer at other stuff too. So no worries."
"Then... that sister gonna be okay? She's the nice one who gave me food sometimes."
She seemed to know the waitress. He patted Jenny reassuringly.
"You the head chef?"
The man who'd called himself a Recorder spoke up. The Imperial Administration Bureau was one of the empire's central pillars.
Guchi didn't know the nitty-gritty of what went on there, but by reputation, it was a powerhouse that could buck even the emperor's influence.
A Recorder from a place like that had every reason to swagger. The chef turned his gaze to the nobleman, who looked about his age. That physique was something else.
If they'd crossed paths in a dark forest at night, he'd have drawn his bowstring. Mistaking him for some beast bursting from the trees.
"What rudeness did our waitress commit?"
The chef asked evenly. His tone was polite, but his face was stone-hard. A facial scar of mysterious origin twitched.
Guchi noticed the nobleman edging back a step. Anyone who didn't feel the pressure would be the odd one out.
"My perfectly reasonable request—your waitress wouldn't oblige."
"I told you clear as day to relay it: no seating for late reservations. Book again if you insist. Neila, you relay my words right?"
The waitress called Neila shook her head.
"I said exactly what you told me, Chef."
"So our waitress did her job. Care to explain the problem?"
The chef stepped toward the nobles. His prosthetic leg struck the floor with a dull thud.
Guchi felt the ground tremble. The nobles facing him head-on must have jumped.
"Just one day late. No flexibility?"
"Not words I'd expect from an Administration Bureau Recorder. Stranger still—the Sir Aleng I know prizes punctuality above all."
Sir Aleng? Guchi hadn't heard the name, but context suggested a bigwig in the Bureau.
How heavy that name weighed showed plain on the nobleman's face.
"...You know the Director?"
"Not bosom buddies, but not total strangers."
Vague enough, but it landed for the nobleman. The woman who'd raised a hand to the waitress's cheek shrank back demurely once she clocked her father's fluster.
"Anything else?"
The chef asked. The nobleman cleared his throat low and turned away. Guchi smirked inside as the noble family retreated.
Strutting on clout one minute, tucking tail at a name not even in the room. Nobles were a sorry lot.
"We'll come back another time."
"On your reservation date, we'll welcome you with open arms."
The nobleman coughed awkwardly.
"Looks like your business is done. Safe travels."
The chef dipped his thick neck slightly in salute and turned.
Now his gaze fixed not on the nobles, but Lander. As Guchi figured—they knew each other.
The chef approached. The closer he got, the heavier the intimidation. Astonishing that raw human bulk alone could press like that.
Jenny, glued to his leg, clutched his pant cuffs tight with both hands. The giant up close must've terrified her.
Even he, who hunted beasts for supper, felt the tension—how much worse for a little kid.
The chef eyed Jenny. He slipped his anvil of a hand into his pocket and drew something out.
"Like candy?"
Gruff, but with a warmth underneath. Jenny stared at his palm. Torn on grabbing the candy from that massive mitt.
"It's fine."
Lander said. Only then did Jenny stretch out her tiny hand and take it. Fancy stuff, wrapped neat.
"Kids love 'em. Figured you would too."
Jenny clutched it in both hands, hesitated, then bowed at the waist.
"Thank you."
Sizing up the big uncle as harmless, Jenny's lips quirked into a slow grin.
"Eat before you go."
Aimed at Lander. The chef turned without waiting for an answer. The brief silence shattered—not by chef or Lander.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The nobleman butted in.
"I heard clear. These folks ain't on the reservation list."
His finger jabbed at Guchi and Lander. Eyes bulging—he smelled blood.
"My shop. My call on seating."
"All that rules talk, now playing favorites? You mocking me?"
The chef blew past him and headed inside. The nobleman, fit to bust a gut, glared daggers at the place before stomping off. His family trailed after.
"Come on in for now? Messy out front."
The waitress said. Guchi waited on Lander. He was the one invited.
"Let's head in."
Lander moved. But what about her? Guchi eyed Jenny, still stuck to his side.
"Not the petty type. Loves kids, too."
Word from the man himself—Guchi winked at Jenny and followed. Details aside, fancy free meal was locked in.
The place was hushed. Empty tables draped in crisp white linens, each with a nameplate for the reserved party.
First time in a joint like this. Meals to him meant a quick break and filling the gut. Never blew time or coin chasing gourmet thrills.
"Right this way."
Waitresses swarmed. Not just one or two—three hovered between pillars. Hope they ain't spoon-feeding, he thought idly.
Personal place settings laid out. Then music drifted in from somewhere. A young woman sawed a violin in the corner.
High-end salon vibes. Even those spots didn't always feature a performance this graceful.
Minimum one gold coin a head. The vibe alone sold it.
"How do you know the chef?"
Guchi lobbed the root question. Lander wore his usual easy smile. Eerily like the one when reminiscing his late wife...
"Met in the army."
"Called it."
He dropped it there. Friend swam in secrets. The Bank mess too—no upside digging. Lander'd spill if it mattered.
Food arrived. Served in pristine porcelain, with some spiel he half-tuned out.
One thought: all that fuss for bite-sized morsels.
Some flavors tricky, some clung to the roof of his mouth. The main meat finally filled him some. Tiny portions added up.
Kid menu separate? Jenny's plate had tweaks. She wolfed it down, beamed content.
Then petits something-or-other—cookies tinier than a thumbnail—and tea. Meal winding down.
"Hope it suited."
The chef showed. Whites smudged a bit. He waited on Lander. Who stayed mum. Guchi piped up.
"Devoured it. First luxe spread like this—not sure I did it justice."
"Everyone savors different. You cleaned the plate—grateful for that."
"I liked it too."
Jenny piped up shyly. The chef's stony face cracked a smile. Left eye scar kept it from pretty, but the kindness shone through.
Atmosphere said bounce time. Leave Lander to his chat. Guchi signaled Jenny and rose.
Sharp kid—she got the hint, shoved her chair back.
"We'll head out."
"Be at the inn shortly."
"No rush."
He nodded to Lander and chef, then stepped out.
* * *
"Clear out a sec."
At Million's word, the waiting staff vanished through the back door. Lander eyed the still-standing Million.
"Planning to stand all night?"
"Till the boss says otherwise."
"Missed the funeral news?"
"Heard it."
"Then you know the boss is six feet under. No chain of command left but me."
"Right."
Million dragged a chair over. Leaned into the prosthetic smooth as silk. No hitch.
"Been a while."
"Yeah. Too long."
"Knew you'd land on your feet. Figured a spot like this, thriving trade. Didn't peg it for this famous, though."
"Food's my thing, ain't it?"
"Damn right. Best there was."
Barracks chow flooded back. Million spun magic from slop ingredients.
Other units traded supplies for him straight-up. Rank didn't matter—every soul craved his grub.
"You're alive."
"Scraped by."
"When I heard you'd kicked it, figured the end caught up. Year and a half back? Naria's funeral."
"That timing."
"Captain's eyes that day... weren't a living man's. Even through hellish 'Flash' op, they burned. Thought nothing could break you. That day proved it—you're flesh and blood like us."
Million said hold on and rose. Ducked into the kitchen, emerged gripping a dented steel canteen.
Army issue. Guchi knew damn well where it'd seen action.
(To be continued in the next installment)