A Green Bottle Delivered from the Capital
A Green Bottle Delivered from the Capital
Heimer hauled his overstuffed self to work at the viscount's estate.
Breakfast had been unusually heavy.
A smile kept tugging at the corners of his mouth.
His newfound enlightenment had fired him up — he was itching to train right this second.
But first, he went to find Liana, the one who had pointed him in the right direction in the first place.
He owed her thanks.
He hadn't come to gloat.
Absolutely not.
This was purely an expression of gratitude.
He had definitely not come to inform her that donkatsu — a genuine knight's dish — was categorically superior to some unknown thing called bulbaek.
"Liana, I visited that restaurant you recommended. Thank you. I ate very well."
"Huh? They opened today? The owner told me they were opening three days from now."
"When I arrived, he asked me to evaluate the food before the official opening."
Liana nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. The small curve of her lips brimmed with unmistakable pride.
"Well then? Isn't the bulbaek there incredible? The owner said the word for a delicious restaurant is matjip."
Heimer shook his head.
"I didn't eat the bulbaek. Once I was there, he recommended a different menu item."
"What? Yesterday he said bulbaek was all he had..."
Liana blinked, puzzled. Heimer squared his chest.
She clearly didn't know.
Not being a knight, she had no concept of the true taste of a real knight restaurant.
Pitiable. Lamentable.
"I ate a true knight's dish — donkatsu! I believe, with absolute conviction, that it alone is the definitive dish of an authentic knight restaurant, fit only for genuine knights."
"Donkatsu? What is that?"
"A dish comparable to a cutlet, but on an entirely different plane. Today, I received the finest meal of my life."
Liana shook her head.
"You're not making any sense. Bulbaek isn't something you can compare to a cutlet."
"The same is true of donkatsu. A thick cut of meat inside a thin, crisp batter — a marriage of crunch and juiciness! If you had tasted it, Liana, you would have grasped the true principle of a knight restaurant."
"Ehh? You're only saying that because you haven't had bulbaek. Grilled pog shoulder marinated in a seasoning that leaves your tongue just a little tingly, eaten with white rice — it makes you lose your mind. And then there's that sauce they call ssamjang, and fried rice..."
Heimer swallowed a sigh.
Liana's hopelessly misguided reasoning — from someone he'd always considered a greater gourmand than himself — practically forced the sigh out of him.
Claiming that unknown bulbaek was better than donkatsu.
Of course, if it was Sir Lucas's cooking, he'd surely have made that bulgogi-rice set well enough, but Heimer's mind was by now filled to the brim with the chivalric truth of donkatsu.
"You may not know this, Lady Liana, since you are not a knight, but genuine knight cuisine is donkatsu."
"You're the one who doesn't know, Sir Heimer! I've hunted down far more matjip than you have! I may not know knighthood, but in gastronomy, I'm leagues ahead."
"Say what you will. The supreme food is donkatsu."
"It's bulgogi baekban! Fried rice included!"
"Donkatsu stands as a complete dish without any fried-whatever included."
"It's nothing but a cutlet!"
Their debate ran on parallel tracks with no sign of intersecting, and the two of them never did find common ground.
"Once it's open, we'll go and eat it together!"
"Absolutely!"
Both declared the dish they'd eaten the definitive victor, but very different thoughts were taking up residence in their respective heads.
'Just how delicious is this donkatsu, that Sir Heimer would say things like that?'
Liana bit her lower lip, acutely aware of the saliva pooling in her mouth.
'Bulgogi baekban... just from the description, I can already tell it qualifies as a knight's dish in its own way. I'm curious.'
Heimer, for his part, felt exactly the same.
Both swallowed their true feelings and reasserted, one final time, that the menu they'd personally eaten was the undeniable best.
Swallowing. All day long. Nothing but swallowing.
***
After sending Heimer on his way, I spent the day craning my neck for a guest who was due to arrive.
By now, the interior was nearly finished.
An unassuming design — the kind that didn't jump out at you.
Not flashy, but clean.
The restaurant radiated an air of hygienic confidence just from looking at it, and still carried the lingering scent of the donkatsu I'd fried earlier.
A lot of the design choices were lifted from the interiors of the haejangguk joints, knight diners, and baekban shops I used to frequent in my past life.
The space was large enough to seat sixty at once.
Fifteen tables.
Six of them were floor-seating — shoes off, sit on the heated floor.
The floor-seating areas were set up as private rooms you could close off, two tables to a room.
I added them because they're perfect for having discreet (?) conversations.
Four chairs per table.
Each table had its own cutlery holder, and yes — tissue dispensers, the kind you always see in restaurants.
"Got everything you'd expect in a proper joint. See?"
The Empire had, in its own way, conquered the continent with magic.
Magic circuits standing in for science occasionally produced objects so ingenious they genuinely surprised me.
The flare range with fire magic etched into it. A refrigerator with cooling magic and preservation spells embedded in its circuits.
And today marked the arrival of another essential piece for this whole restaurant venture.
"Should be right about now."
Just as I was eyeing the clock, I heard someone outside.
"Lucas! I'm here!"
Finally.
At that familiar voice, I hurried to open the door.
A small boy with brown hair, a freckled face, and a beaming grin was waving at me.
Behind him sat five carts, all loaded with crates.
"Is this everything I ordered?"
"That's right! Made it exactly to your specifications!"
The small boy who'd arrived with the loaded carts was Kobi.
Chief manager of the Golden Wagon, the most renowned merchant company in the imperial capital.
Our connection stretched back to my days as cook-knight for the Imperial Princess's order, when I'd handled procurement — the relationship had outlasted the job.
He looked like a fifteen-year-old boy, but you'd be a fool to underestimate him. Kobi was no ordinary human — he was a gnome.
Gnomes were a race that reached this stature at twenty and kept the appearance of a young boy or girl right up until they died.
Rumored to descend from spirits, gnomes were a mystical people who never grew beyond this point.
In the distant past, there'd been a period when they were hunted and slaughtered over whispers that drinking a gnome's blood stopped aging. Now those whispers had been debunked, and they lived among humans within the Empire as fellow beings.
For reference, he'd looked exactly this size seven years ago.
He was definitely older than me, and having him constantly use formal speech with me never stopped being awkward.
"Right on time."
"Of course. Absolute punctuality! That's the Golden Wagon motto, after all."
"Let me check the goods."
"Inspect away! They were crafted to perfection per your order!"
I stepped up to the nearest cart and pried open the first crate.
Inside, green bottles gleamed with an almost jewel-like luster.
I pulled one out and popped the cap. A sharp, biting aroma of alcohol pricked my nose.
A scent I'd missed.
Clear liquor in a green bottle.
Soju.
The one drink a knight restaurant can't do without.
Some people call it cheap swill. But it was the drink that let you catch a pleasant buzz without emptying your pockets — the drink that could make the exhaustion of manual labor simply dissolve away, for some people.
I grabbed a small tasting cup from inside the shop and poured some soju into it.
The clear, colorless liquid was immensely satisfying to look at.
A color I'd missed.
"Making liquor with magic... a novel production method, to be sure. We used the magic-circuit-based technique you described to distill spirits from grain, and the flavor really is distinct."
Impressive.
I'd only shared the basic principle, and they'd turned out a finished product this polished.
"How was the internal reception?"
"Glowing! The low cost means it's bound to sell enormously among common folk. You know how it is — everyone brews their own liquor at home, so the quality of cheap local spirits is all over the place."
Kobi grinned and waggled a finger — the standard imperial gesture for disparaging something.
I threw back a shot of soju.
The sharp, crisp taste of soju bloomed in my mouth.
"Kkh-eu!"
I felt the alcohol tracing a clear, vivid line down my throat.
The flavor was exactly right.
The flavor I'd been missing.
Not refined. But light — something you could drink casually.
There were two kinds of soju.
Diluted soju and distilled soju.
If I had my way, I'd make distilled soju and stock the restaurant with it.
The problem was price.
This was a knight restaurant.
The people walking through that door were going to be, for the most part, laborers coming off a shift.
Putting distilled soju in front of them would be showing zero regard for the customer.
'And there's nothing like soju with greasy food.'
I'd considered beer, but dismissed the idea pretty fast.
'Beer doesn't need to be ordered from a capital merchant anyway.'
Trying to ship beer while preserving freshness would run the costs absurdly high.
I'd just source from a local brewery in a nearby city, even if I couldn't vouch for the quality.
For this place, soju was the best fit.
It paired better with a knight restaurant than any other drink.
Finish your shift, sit down to a meal, and there's a glass of liquor right next to the food — perfect.
A full belly, a pleasant buzz settling in, your body going warm and heavy as you drift off to sleep.
Kkh-eu. That's the good stuff.
Pure fatigue recovery.
"I'll settle the payment now."
"Always a pleasure. Hahaha!"
I handed Kobi a pouch containing the payment I'd prepared.
He chuckled low and brought over a separate crate, offering it to me.
"And this is a gift from our guild leader."
"The Golden Wagon chief?"
"Yes! She said it was payment for the delicious food she ate some time ago."
- That kimchi stew you apparently served the princess — I'd like to try it myself.
- Doenjang-jjigae? This funky-smelling thing is food?
- Sir Lucas! Please, just one more pot of doenjang-jjigae!
The face of the guild leader — sneaking into the knight order's kitchens to put in food orders — surfaced in my mind.
I opened the gift crate.
In keeping with her meticulous attention to design, it was a clear spirit in an elegant bottle.
A label reading "G.W." was affixed to it.
"A distilled liquor, extracted using the method you taught us this time. Fifty-five proof — she said even a single glass makes the refinement unmistakable."
"Convey my thanks."
"Which brings me to my question: any genuine thought of returning to the capital? Our guild leader sorely misses your cooking."
"Not going."
Why the hell would I?
I fled to this backwater specifically to not die.
I'm planting my ass right here until the rebellion's crushed and things quiet down.
The restaurant's coming together nicely, too.
At those words, Kobi clicked his tongue wistfully.
"Tch. A real shame. The capital's in an uproar these days."
"An uproar?"
"Yes. Everyone's in a frenzy trying to find the greatest chef in the capital."
The greatest chef in the capital, huh.
A few names came to mind.
People who'd made me realize this world had its own share of skilled cooks.
Hope I don't get swept up in that mess.
"Glad to hear they're searching diligently."
More pressingly — why was this gnome still loitering instead of leaving?
The goods were all unloaded. He could clear out any time now.
"Surely you don't intend to send a guest off with an empty stomach?"
"You were a guest?"
"I came bearing precious cargo, did I not?"
"...."
Shameless.
Still, the precious-cargo point was fair.
Soju was a non-negotiable staple of a knight restaurant.
"Fine. Come on in. I'll treat you to a dish that goes especially well with soju."
A dish famed as a nutritious snack for husbands and a drinking accompaniment for children: I had the ingredients ready, waiting for the soju's arrival.
"What's the menu called?"
"Coco ddongjip stir-fry."
"...Are you insane? Human?"
That is genuine, undisguised contempt on his face.