Imperial-Style Brisket Smothered in Heavy Pepper and Spices, Paired with a Stinging Beer
Imperial-Style Brisket Smothered in Heavy Pepper and Spices, Paired with a Stinging Beer
At night, the imperial city reminded me a lot of Korean streets.
Sure, the architecture was different—and you had a dizzying array of hair colors, plus the occasional species I'd never seen before—but aside from that, it absolutely felt like a place where people lived.
"Bwahaha! Tonight we go hard!"
"Hey, that place next door just opened—wanna check it out?"
Co-workers and friends shaking off a long, hard day over drinks.
"They say a new act's hitting the Shillingmug! Cat-People dancers this time, no bard—what do you say?"
"You... is that your thing?"
"Forget that, there's a tavern packed with women who came to catch the arena fights—let's hit that one."
"We'll just get shot down. Why bother?"
People on the prowl for new connections.
"Blaaargh!"
And someone already plastered, flat on the pavement making a spectacle of himself.
The night in Lilyan sparkled with countless lights.
Under those city lights, all kinds of races mingled together—dwarves, gnomes, lizardmen, even four-legged centaurs.
People went about their business without making a big deal out of it.
Even the musclebound elf beside me—though at this point, "musclebound elf" barely covered it.
Anyway, Andrea the elf simply didn't stand out.
Oh, elves were rare enough among the heterogeneous tribes that she drew the occasional look, but no more than that.
'You don't see this in the West.'
Of course, humans still made up the overwhelming majority of the Empire's population.
In the western regions, localized skirmishes still broke out against various tribes right on the border. That bred a heavy atmosphere of hostility and exclusion toward non-humans. The capital wasn't actively hostile—but it also wasn't exactly eager to hire them in large numbers.
Naturally. Every talent on the continent flocked to the capital, Croselia.
They wouldn't shun other races, but they wouldn't favor them either.
That was the mood in the imperial capital.
But the Empire wasn't a monolith.
The East and the North, where wars against rival human powers never stopped, distrusted foreign humans far more than they distrusted beastfolk. The conflict-starved South, on the other hand, welcomed outsiders and other races with open arms.
The biggest reason? The Lilyan Arena—the greatest arena in the South.
The arena threw its doors open to any race, no questions asked, and now that it had become a full-blown entertainment spectacle, Southerners harbored almost no resistance toward non-humans. In fact, some non-human fighters had become outright celebrities among Southern imperial citizens.
Like Veronia.
'Wonder how Veronia's doing.'
I could still picture her going into heat over the smell of doenjang.
She'd said she'd come back once she became the Empire's top arena fighter. No clue if she was pulling it off.
'Actually, it'd be a problem if she did succeed and actually showed up.'
I wouldn't have any use for her.
On the other hand, hiring her as dedicated hunting staff wouldn't be half bad.
Maybe because I'd successfully handed the Saintess over to Camilla, my head felt a lot clearer. I strolled through Lilyan's bustling night streets, letting my thoughts drift.
'Camilla will sort things out. No problem.'
It wasn't like the Saintess was powerless within the Order, anyway.
Voices hummed and buzzed.
People crowded and jostled.
"Boss, you open a shop here and you'd be drowning in customers."
Andrea marveled at the night market.
"Boss! That stall's selling meat I've never seen before. Wanna pop in?"
She pressed close as she asked.
Her very un-elf-like, generous chest pressed against my elbow.
Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
"Andrea, you must've come to places like this all the time before you worked at our restaurant."
"N-no, I haven't! I mostly camped out in the forest just hunting."
"Right."
I knew from the novel that Ivan, too, hadn't really gotten to enjoy ordinary life like this until the main story kicked off.
One had been hunting in the forest, another training in the forest, and the third had been cooking in a knight order—none of us had ever gotten a proper taste of imperial culture. The sum total of our experience was a handful of tavern trips with fellow knights.
'Come to think of it, we're three imperial shut-ins.'
Each of us, for different reasons, had missed out on the Empire's cultural life.
Every once in a while, you need a night like this—a chance to sprawl out and take it slow.
'And I need to see what other restaurants are selling.'
You can't live on Korean food every single day. We came all this way—heading home without eating anything would've been a shame for me as well as the two who tagged along. So I led them into the busiest place we could find.
"Boss, do you drink?"
"Just a beer. One glass."
I had to find out what the city's beer tasted like these days.
Market research, basically.
You need to know what drink is most popular in the nearby cities right now, and what dishes are trending.
We ordered the most popular dish and three beers.
"Beer for a knight. Absolutely unacceptable."
Sure enough, straight-laced Ivan flat-out refused, but I talked him around by saying that rest was also part of training.
"Understood."
"Don't force the guy who says he won't eat. We'll just eat it ourselves."
"I did not say I would not eat. I said it goes against the knightly code. However, as Sir Lucas has stated, if rest is also part of training, then I have no reason to refuse."
Ivan's firm reply made Andrea puff out her cheeks.
A lively tavern, drinks with people I knew after a long time.
'I missed this.'
Being able to kick back for once had me relaxing without even realizing it. A smile crept onto my face.
'What really feels good is knowing I can drink and still not have to show up for work tomorrow.'
Sure, I'd still have to head home and get the shop open soon, but just not having to drag myself in at the crack of dawn lifted some weight off my shoulders.
"Three beers."
The dwarf-made beers we ordered arrived. A golden liquid topped with white foam. Even before taking a sip, the carbonated bubbles dancing upward were enough to spark that sharp, prickling anticipation.
Ridiculous.
Soon the Pog leg whole-roast we'd ordered as a drinking snack came out. A whole Pog front leg slow-roasted on a barbecue machine—reportedly the number one drinking snack in Lilyan.
"Just tear it apart with your hands."
Food for warriors.
The beer was here. We raised our glasses for a toast.
"You fought with your lives on the line for me, and you finished the job safely. Tonight, rest up."
"I'll be with you whenever you need me!"
"Call on me anytime."
Reassuring. One was an elf swordswoman well above average. The other was a romance-fantasy protagonist. With these two together, I couldn't picture any of us getting hurt.
"Cheers!"
"Cheeers!"
"Cheers."
We clinked glasses and drank the beer straight down, white foam bubbling over.
Glug, glug!
The sharp carbonation scraping down my throat was incredible.
"Khaaa!"
That's it. That right there—that's beer. The beer I dream of, the one I want.
Cold enough that every swallow felt vivid. So intensely carbonated it stung the mouth and throat alike. A light alcoholic buzz with a clean, toasty grain finish at the end.
This beer had a charm completely different from soju.
"Incredible."
It was genuinely one of my favorite drinks.
"Khh!"
If I could get this level of fizz in plain water instead of beer...
'You wouldn't even need alcohol to feel this crisp.'
That's what I was thinking as I reached for the specially seasoned roast Pog leg.
"Boss! I already tore some up for you!"
Andrea held out a chunk of Pog meat she'd pulled off herself.
"Ah... you have it."
"I'll just feed myself."
"No, I wanted to tear your first bite off for you."
Ever since that business with the lettuce wraps, she'd been trying to feed me directly more and more often.
"Still, tearing meat with your hands and putting it into someone's mouth is..."
"Are you embarrassed?"
"...That's not it."
"It's fine. It's not like I'm doing anything weird."
I had no choice but to open my mouth, and she placed the Pog meat inside.
It was pretty good.
It hit a flavor I'd tasted plenty of times back in the modern world. To sum it up simply: an aggressive, salty-peppery Western-style BBQ seasoning slathered on the outside and grilled—a bold, in-your-face taste.
'This wasn't grilled for just an hour or two.'
They'd clearly put at least four hours into this meat.
No direct-fire grilling—smoked, maybe?
'Then way longer than four hours.'
It brought to mind Texas-style brisket from my old world: smoked for eight to twelve hours with the fat cap still on, then served. Very similar.
I could see why this place was so popular.
"Boss, ahhh."
"..."
"I gave you a bite, so now you have to give one to me. Fair's fair."
"Fine."
I tore into the leg with my hands. Juices ran through my fingers in rivulets. Way more savage than slicing it neatly with a fork, and precisely because of that, there was a tactile, primal satisfaction in the eating.
"Here."
I handed her the torn leg.
"Ahhh."
She opened her mouth instead of using her hands, and I just stared at her.
"Huh?"
"You have to feed me. I fed you directly, mouth to mouth, so you owe me the same, don't you?"
Andrea grinned and opened her mouth again.
"Ahh."
That was the moment.
"Thank you for the meal."
Ivan snatched the meat from my hand and popped it straight into his own mouth.
Chew chew.
The look in Andrea's eyes turned murderous.
"You son of a bitch, you want to die?"
"As it happens, I also wanted to eat meat torn by Sir Lucas's hand."
Ivan chewed and glared right back at Andrea.
"Indeed, this is the taste of the knightly code. A knight does not choose his tools. A lesson well learned."
"Hey! That was mine!"
A rowdy drinking party.
Those were the kinds of nights you missed when you got buried in work. I hadn't had this kind of noisy chaos in ages.
'It's different from the bustle of the kitchen.'
Something about it filled a gap, and the corners of my mouth lifted on their own. 'I should do this more often.'
"Boss! Tear me off some too!"
Under Andrea's ardent pestering, I tore a strip of meat and placed it in her hand.
"Hyaaang!"
For some reason, Andrea looked on the verge of tears.
***
"*Sniff sniff!* This—this is the scent of a human male!"
The beastfolk gladiator. The biggest star of the Lilyan Arena. Now the queen of the imperial capital Croselia's arena: Veronia.
Her navy-blue dog tail wagging side to side, she practically pounced on Camilla the moment she stepped through the portal.
She crowded close, buried her nose in Camilla's side, and started sniffing.
*Sniff sniff sniff.*
"Hahaha! Hey, that tickles!"
Veronia had been standing guard near the portal when Camilla's message came through about something happening. And the second Camilla arrived, Veronia reacted violently to the scent clinging to her.
"Th-this smell! A familiar smell! The scent of a male in heat! Camilla! You went behind my back and met a human male! Didn't you?"
"Yes. Lucas was in Lilyan."
"The human male was here? Why did you not call me!"
"You had to guard this place."
At those words, Veronia bounced up and down.
"I kept my promise to Camilla! I became the Empire's greatest gladiator! Now I am going to see the human male! I will go work there, I said!"
Camilla let out a sigh at Veronia's bouncing.
'Figures she's a beastkin. How did she pick up his scent from that short encounter?'
But there were more pressing matters.
"We'll talk about that later. Right now there's something more important."
"No! To me, this is the most important! An honorable human must keep her promise!"
"Even becoming the Empire's greatest gladiator isn't enough yet. You still owe me a great deal of money, remember?"
"Ughh!"
"And Lucas isn't going anywhere. There's no rush. Once the more urgent matter is settled, you can keep your promise with certainty."
"Hmph, fine. What do I do?"
"Take this woman behind me to the Order."
"Understood! But you must keep your promise!"
"I said I will."
Naturally, Camilla had no intention of letting her go easily. For one thing, this beastkin was pestering Lucas more than necessary. And now that she had become the Empire's top gladiator and a star, Camilla fully intended to use her as a promotional model.
The slogan to be printed on the chest of her uniform had already been decided.
—S Ramyun.
Spicy ramyun so hot it hurt your tongue.
A scarlet uniform in contrast with navy-blue ears and tail. S RAMYUN emblazoned right across the center.
The more of her opponent's blood she got splashed with, the more her fiery image would intensify.
'Sorry to Veronia, but I absolutely cannot let you go.'
You have to fight at least three more matches, minimum.
Concealing her true intentions, Camilla set off toward the Order, bringing Saint Amelia along.
News of the Saintess's return spread through the imperial capital, and it wasn't long before it came to light that her disappearance had been the work of western nobles.
***
"Nngg."
I opened my eyes to a heavy weight on my arm. The same sensation I'd felt against my elbow yesterday.
We'd had a fair amount of beer, and at the end I'd definitely booked single rooms and we'd all gone to sleep in our own beds. I was certain I'd seen everyone go into their rooms.
"Mmnya, mnya. Bosshh... I'm so full. Can't eat any more... nnnghh."
In a thin slip, Andrea was lying next to me, hugging my arm and mouthing at it with her lips, like she was chewing meat.
"Hmmmmm~~."
"...Why are you in here."
"Mmnya, mmnya."
Andrea opened her eyes.
"Huh?"
Her eyes met mine.
"Nnnnh? Boss, why are you in my room? Am I dreaming?"
"...This is my room."
"Eh? ...............Kyaaahh!"