Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: 14. To the World of Farming! (3)
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After buying the chickens, we headed straight home without purchasing anything else.
A plain wooden two-story house on the outskirts of the village.
Aside from a small cabin nearby, the surroundings were all fields for growing crops, so there were no other neighbors except the old man next door. That was both an advantage and a disadvantage.
Of course, for me in my fugitive life, it was a huge advantage.
"Home!"
"Home!"
I opened the door, following the two little ones dashing ahead.
"Heh heh, come on in. I've been waiting a long time. Mel."
"It's really you, old timer?"
The moment we arrived home, there was an old man sitting as relaxed as if it were his own house.
I can't tell you how shocked I was when I first learned he was our next-door neighbor.
"Grandpa!"
"Yes, yes, Ellis!"
Ellis ran over with a patter of footsteps and threw herself into the old man's arms.
The old man hugged her back, looking pleased as well.
-Good guy, but...
-His body's a bit...
-Way more than a bit.
He had the kind, honest face of someone living in the countryside, but his body sure wasn't honest about his age.
The first time I saw him, I half-wondered if he was one of those "dog sellers who don't own dogs," his physique was that perfect.
Unlike ordinary knights who maintain peak condition through magic, his was pure, honed physical perfection.
Just like mine.
But the old timer was a full thirty years older than me, pushing into his late seventies.
Yep. This old man was maintaining that flawless body well into his late seventies!
A body so perfect it deserved to be called "Gramps the Elder God," not just grandpa!
-First time I saw him, I thought it was a trap from the princess.
-Yeah, knowing her, snagging a grandpa like that would be a piece of cake.
-Right? I figured she'd dragged in the Sword Emperor or some former Sword Saint.
-Owner said she even brought that old Sword Heaven guy just to mess with you. And the current Sword Saint. Wouldn't put a former one past her.
-Yeah.
That initial panic of "oh crap, gotta run" was now ancient history.
He looked like some hidden sword master, but the only time I'd seen him hold a blade was a kitchen knife while cooking.
No swordsman with a body like that would go years without picking up a sword.
Even I, who didn't consider myself much of a knight anymore, still practiced every dawn. There had to be some story behind why this old man had set his sword aside.
"Buying four chickens was the right call after all."
"Hahaha, yep, yep. Ellis glares at me so fiercely every time I mooch one off you."
"Yeah, that's Grandpa's fault. Stealing one chicken per person is super bad!"
"Yes, yes, this old grandpa's sorry."
Even as he listened to Ellis's grumbling, the old man didn't lose his kindly smile.
"Here, not much of a payment, but I brought some beer."
"Oho!"
Chimaek! Chimaek!
Most beer in this world was ale, which didn't quite hit the nostalgic spot, but this old timer was one of the rare ones who could brew lager.
"Lager?"
"Er... only got one bottle of lager..."
"We've only got four chickens too."
"...Half's mine then."
"I'll give you one whole one."
"Nice."
The deal with the old man was sealed.
Now it was my turn!
"Assistant!"
"Yes, sir!"
Ellis zipped from the old man's lap to my side in an instant, already in perfect battle gear.
The essential apron for cooking and a headscarf to keep hair out.
"Battle stations."
"Yes, sir!"
At my solemn command, Ellis snapped a salute and quickly washed her hands.
A skilled farmer by day, a skilled cooking assistant by night!
What a perfect daughter!
"I'll prep the chickens—you grind the bread."
"Yes, sir!"
With familiar motions, she started turning the leftover breakfast bread into crumbs.
"Now let's see."
Four chickens total.
All perfect broilers for frying.
"Hmm..."
Slice. Slice. Slice.
The chickens were already plucked and gutted, but for frying, they needed a bit more work.
Trim the unnecessary bits, cut into bite-sized pieces centered on wings, legs, and breast.
Coat the chunks in flour.
"All done, Captain!"
"Excellent work."
Right on cue, my daughter finished the battle and brought perfectly ground breadcrumbs.
"Perfection."
"Hehe..."
Any other time but cooking, I'd be petting her head—this bread flour was that flawless.
Making such fine crumbs in this short time without a blender.
Impressive talent!
"Alright, now we batter them up."
"Ah, so beautiful..."
The chickens, dressed in their white flour underwear, plunged into the egg wash.
I watched my entranced daughter gaze at the moist, yellow-coated chickens, then blanketed that beauty in another layer of breadcrumbs.
"Oil?"
"Ready to go!"
The magic of demonic chicken even got the iron bat fired up.
A metal thing sensing chicken's allure. Was it special, or was chicken's power just that great?
"Perfect temp."
I tested by flicking in a bit of batter to check the oil.
Spot on.
"Here we go."
Sizzle!
"Ahh..."
My daughter shuddered as the chicken hit the oil. I briefly wondered if this was getting dangerous, but then turned to the sizzling, frying beauties.
Frying is all about temp and timing.
Miss it by a hair, and the inside's raw or the crust burns.
Even if I didn't know how to make soy sauce, gochujang, or doenjang.
Even if I'd botched kimchi!
This chicken... was the last pride of a Korean man. It had to succeed!
"Hup!"
A wrist flick sent the chickens dancing in the oil.
"Daddy's so cool..."
I'd been a total klutz in the fields today, getting chewed out by my daughter, but not here!
"First round done!"
Two crispy chickens emerged.
But the insides weren't fully cooked yet.
I tossed in the other two, then scored the hot ones for steam.
Pulled the new ones and into round two!
Perfect fried chicken achieved.
"Chicken complete."
"Ch-ch-chicken god... slurp."
One to Ellis, drooling a bit.
One to the iron bat, who sat at the table gripping forks in both hands.
"Here you go."
"Thanks."
Then one each to me and the old man, plus the fries we'd done alongside and pre-made sauces.
The ultimate chimaek party formation was set.
"Let's eat!"
"Let's eat!"
The kids who couldn't drink went straight for the chicken.
The old man and I watched them fondly, then poured our beers.
"Shall we dig in?"
"Sure."
Clink!
Wooden mugs met, and beer flowed down.
I wasn't big on booze, but I didn't hate it either.
My life was always one step from pursuit, so even a single drink was cautious.
But now things were different.
No one chasing me...
Probably.
I'd hidden well enough.
After that big loss at Yuglasia Academy, they were being careful.
I had enough cash in secret stashes—not flaunted, but plenty for quiet farm life.
Yeah, I'd been too greedy.
This was enough for a modest life.
Plus, I'd lucked into an adorable daughter with no shady past.
And now, beer stirring old memories, with chicken to boot.
"Bliss."
"Grr... ain't it though."
"Daddy... I, I want some too..."
"No!"
Smack!
I swatted Ellis's hand sneaking toward the beer mug.
"Eeeeng..."
"Booze is..."
"For grown-ups~"
Her teary eyes longed for the mug, but she was too young.
Sure, kids might find it tasteless or gross, but Ellis could have a knack for it.
I could handle a cute drunk daughter eventually, but not yet.
"Hahaha. That's right, Ellis. Too young for booze."
"Ugh... Ellis is good at farming now too..."
"That's got nothing to do with this."
Her pouty lips were adorable.
"Hup."
I stuffed three fries into that protruding pout, and she munched happily, beaming.
"Tasty?"
"Super tasty!"
No trace of the pout as she grinned and chomped fries. The old man and I laughed heartily, tilting our mugs with chicken.
"No chicken, but I can make fries anytime—eat up."
"Yeah!"
Potato harvest was mostly done.
No pesticides here, so a good wash and fry made perfect fries.
"Hmm. Fries really go with beer."
"Potatoes are the ultimate versatile ingredient for any dish."
"Realized that through Ellis—felt like I'd wasted my life till then."
The old man chuckled, munching fries with beer.
Lager was long gone, but plenty of ale—we could get properly buzzed.
"Grr... Just switching beers changes the whole flavor."
"Dipping sauces make all the difference."
"Right!"
Clink—beer vanished fast.
Not high-proof, but when had I last drunk properly since coming here?
Never during missions, obviously. Even fortified, you couldn't boozily risk assassin knives from those disciples.
Same beside the princess, always scheming against me.
Just a sip or two of wine at banquets.
So...
"Head's spinning already."
Even I, called a drinker in my past life, was done after a few beers.
"You're a lightweight, eh?"
"Sorry."
I bowed slightly to the disappointed old man.
Nothing sadder than your drinking partner crashing early.
My old swordmaster said the same.
Though he wasn't human—could outdrink rotations of pupils.
My mind started sinking toward sleep.
If I crashed now, it'd be sweet slumber...
"Then Ellis will take over for Daddy with Grandpa!"
Ellis's voice as I slumped snapped the buzz right out.
"Gonna get it?"
"D-Daddy?"
I pointed at Ellis, frozen reaching for my mug, and told the iron bat.
"Ar, knuckle rap."
"D-Daddy? P-Please, not that!"
Her eyes welled up, weakening my resolve, but I steeled myself.
Spoil her too much, and habits form.
Time for old instructor ruthlessness!
"Bad sister's here?"
"S-Sis? S-Sorry! I won't ask for booze till I'm grown up!"
"Too late!"
"Waaah!"
Ellis bolted wailing, and the iron bat pursued.
She kept just out of reach, seeming to enjoy the rare discipline.
"S gonna catch me, gonna catch me!"
"Waaah!"
"Kyahahaha!"
Oil-scented hard table, kids' screams, old man's laughter—I let my heavy eyelids droop.
Another peaceful day.