New Slave... I Mean Employee Bldi. I'll Cook with the Fresh Squid We Caught Today.
New Slave... I Mean Employee Bldi. I'll Cook with the Fresh Squid We Caught Today.
A vampire. And not just any vampire, but Bldi — the sort of skittish, herbivore-timid creature who flinches at her own shadow. I'd brought her on as a new employee.
I recruited a vampire with a single bowl of seonji haejangguk.
If I were the Demon King, this is the kind of news I'd refuse to believe.
Vampires had once served as officers in the Demon King's army — a race that earned its fearsome reputation. And here one was, won over by one bowl of seonji haejangguk. Well, two bowls. Now she was a human's subordinate employee.
The Demon King, slumbering somewhere beneath the earth, was probably weeping.
The real problem was figuring out what to actually do with her.
The lunch rush, our busiest hours — using her then was out of the question.
"H-h-hyaaah..."
Vampires couldn't muster even a fraction of their strength under the harsh midday sun. Their constitution simply wouldn't allow it.
Assigning her to the counter to handle payments, then.
"S-s-so, um... h-how much f-for the, um, bulgogi baekban...?"
The moment she had to speak to another human being, her mind went completely blank. There was no way.
I could picture it without even trying: Bldi behind the counter, steam practically billowing from her head as she short-circuited. Andrea would have to divert half her attention just to managing her.
So counter and cashier duty are out.
The roles I could put her in were painfully limited.
We weren't running a 24-hour convenience store. The narrow windows where I could use Bldi at full capacity were early morning and evening, when the sunlight was weak.
And it had to be somewhere she wouldn't have to face people.
That leaves about three things.
Ingredient prep and cooking.
And hunting.
Cooking was still too much to entrust to anyone else.
Cooking is a deceptively personal thing — the touch of the hands matters. Same ingredients, same method, but swap the cook and the flavor shifts noticeably. The last thing I wanted was to start hearing complaints that the taste had changed.
So cooking was out.
Which left ingredient prep and hunting.
If I'm going to send her hunting, I might as well give the job to Heimer.
I looked at Bldi, who couldn't even manage eye contact with me.
She trembled like a leaf and forced herself to meet my gaze. It lasted about half a second before she squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her head.
"I-I-I don't know what I did, but I'm s-s-sorry..."
The end of her sentence quivered.
As a vampire, she ought to be stronger than any ordinary knight. Why was she so terrified of everything?
Just in case, I'd taken her down to the shore at dawn — the spot where I always cast my line.
"Kyaaaaah!"
Every time I hooked a fish, she shuddered violently. She couldn't even bring herself to touch a fish thrashing on the line. Just stood there, trembling.
"Why is a vampire scared of fish?"
"F-fish are things you can't even drink the blood of! Th-they're fast and slimy, there's n-nothing to eat. H-huuuh."
This from someone who happily lapped up cow blood.
I gave up on making her the fishing specialist.
So hunting was out too.
That left nothing but ingredient prep.
Ingredient prep, huh.
The scope of how I could use her was getting awfully narrow.
"Anyway, all I'm pulling up today is squid."
Twenty squid and a single volum fish — that was the sum total of today's catch.
The volum was a decent prize on its own, about equivalent to a pollack from my old world. The fact that everything else was squid was a little disappointing, but squid was a versatile ingredient. Depending on how you prepared it, the possibilities varied enormously. Not bad at all.
If I remember right, people in the Empire aren't exactly fond of squid.
They loathed octopus and squid alike.
The reason was straightforward.
It all went back to why the Empire could never send its ships into the deep sea.
The kraken. A colossal octopus. The nightmare of the ocean that had sunk countless vessels.
Because of that, squid, octopus, and creatures like them were classified in the Empire not as food, but as monsters.
They're so delicious — how can anyone...
I'd never understand it.
Having confirmed the day's catch, I hung the buckets full of seawater on my horse and headed back to the restaurant.
On the ride back, I reached a conclusion about how to deploy Bldi.
She'd arrive early in the morning to help with the day's ingredient prep, and before clocking out, she'd assist with closing duties and prepping for the next day.
Plus, assign her periodic overnight cleaning.
Even if it was just ingredient prep, having help would lighten the workload that was currently all piled on Andrea.
I could probably leave the pre-butchery blood-draining to Bldi as well.
Now that I think about it, being able to drain blood without slicing the carotid artery is an advantage.
That was more in the realm of ingredient prep than hunting, wasn't it?
Comparing the flavor between both methods later might not be a bad idea.
Though for making seonji, I can't exactly butcher every animal that way.
Back at the restaurant, Andrea watched Bldi trembling like a frightened animal and turned to me.
"That's the vampire we met at the chicken farm?"
"That's her. She admitted it herself."
"She doesn't exactly seem like a vampire..."
"Too timid?"
"Yes, exactly."
Andrea had arrived early again today, well before opening. She studied Bldi, who was standing in front of us looking utterly lost, with a measured gaze.
The way Andrea's eyes traveled slowly up and down — it was the look of a senior private with three months left on her contract, sizing up a new transfer. The expression of someone welcoming their first real junior.
"What about using her as a mascot in the evenings? With the right costume, she wouldn't even need to talk to people."
Bldi flinched at that.
"Dress her up and station her outside as a mascot?"
"Yes."
"She'd collapse."
Look at her — already quivering like a nervous puppy.
Andrea's idea wasn't bad in theory, but for Bldi, right now, it would be outright cruelty.
"M-master, p-please spare me..."
Bldi clutched my sleeve, trembling.
"Master? Boss, don't tell me..."
Andrea's eyes narrowed.
"...you have that kind of taste?"
"I don't."
"But she just called you 'master.' Unless you forced her into it and made her sign a slave contract under duress..."
"I told her I was the owner of this restaurant, and she's been calling me that title ever since."
Andrea broke into a bright smile.
"I know you're not that kind of person, boss. I just wanted to try joking around."
She glanced sidelong at Bldi and asked,
"So why did you bring her on? I'm perfectly capable on my own."
"We're getting more customers, so I need the extra hands. And I figured she wouldn't cause any serious trouble if I took her in."
"You hired a vampire as a worker and took care of the chicken farm situation at the same time. Killed two birds."
"Exactly."
After working alongside me for several months, Andrea had grown impressively sharp.
"I'm supposed to train her, then."
"Just set a good example as her senior. Don't be too harsh on her."
"Understood. I'll go get a few things ready, then."
Andrea excused herself to gather the ingredients.
"I'm perfectly capable on my own," she grumbled, clearly displeased by Bldi's arrival, and headed toward the storeroom.
Bldi shuffled hesitantly toward me.
"M-master, d-did I... do something wrong?"
"You didn't."
"B-but Andrea... miss? ma'am? Her face got really, really s-scary."
"She's spent a lot of years as a hunter. That's just how she is."
"Oh."
Bldi stole a glance toward where Andrea had gone.
"Wh-what should I do?"
"When Andrea brings the ingredients back, help her with the prep."
"Ah... th-then I should go with her..."
Bldi scrambled after Andrea in a fluster.
She really is a good kid.
Anyone would buy it if you told them she wasn't a vampire.
While the two of them fetched the ingredients, I got breakfast ready for them.
Seonji haejangguk for Bldi, and for Andrea, I planned to grill up some bulgogi — specifically osam bulgogi, squid and pork belly stir-fried together in a red gochujang-based seasoning.
And for myself, I intended to add a side of hoe made from fresh squid.
It's a crime I can't have soju this early in the morning.
I'd pulled in some exceptionally fresh squid — time to make use of them.
This wasn't something I could put on the menu for customers.
Most of the locals had come to view my cooking favorably by now, but even so, serving squid would be crossing a line.
- Squid are monsters!
- He eats monsters! He's a freak!
- You piece of trash!
I had no desire to hear any of that.
Squid were so damn delicious.
I pulled out one still-living squid.
Pssshhhht!
Startled, the squid puffed up its body, skin cycling through vivid colors as it shot a jet of water at me. Its last-ditch act of defiance, I suppose. It only came off as cute.
"You think that's going to work?"
It stretched its legs in every direction, suckers scrambling for purchase on my arm. I drove a mana-infused knife into the underside of its body.
Thunk!
The creature shuddered as though its nerves had been severed.
I gave it a quick rinse under water, then slipped the knife into the back of the mantle where I'd made the incision. I drew the blade cleanly down the center — shzzzzt — splitting it open.
The well-honed edge parted the body with a crisp tear, revealing the pristine innards. Still wrapped in a transparent membrane, the pale yellow organs glistened — proof of just how fresh this squid was.
I set the blade against the cut edge of the mantle, took hold of the legs — internal organs still attached and completely unscathed — and lifted.
Schrrrip.
The innards separated cleanly from the mantle in one piece. That was one of the things that made squid remarkably easy to clean among seafood. If a knife felt unwieldy, you could use scissors; anyone with a bit of know-how could manage it.
I extracted the legs along with the attached innards, then set my knife just above the eyes, where the skirt-like collar of flesh sat, and cut carefully so as not to rupture the organs.
Honestly, you could just chop straight through below the eyes and be done with it.
Most busy hoe restaurants or the trucks that sold squid hoe did exactly that — knife straight across beneath the eyes. It was far easier.
But cutting centered on the collar above the eyes preserved a little more of that pleasant crunch in the flesh. Personally, I preferred it that way.
The trade-off was the extra step of removing the eyes, which was why high-volume places rarely bothered.
I tossed the trimmed innards into the food waste bin and sliced the legs into manageable pieces.
After cutting the legs, I sectioned the thick base where they joined into bite-sized chunks.
Then I grasped the rod-like quill that had connected the mantle to the innards and pulled it free.
Anyone who'd ever eaten dried squid had crunched down on that hard, plastic-like bone before — that was the squid's quill. It was said to be more akin to a clamshell than a vertebrate's skeleton.
Either way, it was inedible, so peeling it out was the right move.
The nerve tissue was still alive; every time the knife touched it, the squid's outer skin rippled through flashing color changes. I scraped the skin away with the blade and peeled it off.
You had to remove it — that was how you got the truly tender texture when eating it raw. Leave it on, and it turned tough with a faint fishiness around the edges.
I worked the knife under the skin, stripped it clean, and trimmed away the very bottom edge of the mantle to finish.
Slice the white meat into thin strips, and the squid hoe prep was done.
"Two squid should be enough for hoe, right?"
No one was going to eat that much of it anyway.
I was about to pull the next squid from the bucket.
Clunk.
The door opened — early.
At this hour, there was only one person it could be.
"Oh? It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Blue hair. An elegant dress. A noblewoman whose identity I'd never quite pinned down.
My only customer who ordered fish dishes.
She hadn't visited in quite some time, and now here she was — for the first time in what felt like ages.
"Hello. It's been a long time."
Had she rushed here?
Her face was slightly flushed as she looked at me.
"The usual... would that be possible?"
"I pulled in some excellent squid today. Shall I prepare that for you?"
"Yes, please."
She dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief and seated herself at the table closest to the kitchen.
"Why such a long absence, if you don't mind my asking?"
"...Circumstances. I'm sorry."
Her expression as she said it was dark.