Chapter 78: Festival: A Petty Grudge (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 78: Festival: A Petty Grudge (1)
During the twenty-odd years I spent making a living with a blade, I revived many of the establishments I worked at.
From a raw fish restaurant run by an elderly owner who could no longer hold a sashimi knife due to his age, to a boss who was falsely branded as someone who toyed with ingredients because of malicious bloggers.
To a female diver boss who went up against franchise raw fish restaurants with nothing but a single food stall on the shores of Jeju Island.
I rejected financial offers from major corporations and sought out only those shops that wouldn't have been surprising to see go under at any moment.
My colleagues criticized me, asking if I had lost my mind. Even so, I stubbornly walked my own path and achieved a great deal.
It wasn't purely out of a charitable nature; it was simply self-satisfaction.
‘Signaling a revival with a single sashimi knife.’
How romantic is that!
I'll admit it. My eighth-grader syndrome came late. That was probably the influence of my first master, who taught me how to use a knife.
‘I might have been bad, but that man was on a whole other level.’
He would leave the shop empty day in and day out, claiming he was searching for hidden masters. And as I mentioned before, whenever he got his hands on a sashimi knife, he would give it some ridiculous name and sleep with it cradled in his arms.
Anyway.
Setting up a booth and selling food with that street-stall vibe—it's something familiar and comfortable to me.
Maybe the reason I was so excited before the festival was because it brought back memories of my past life.
‘Those were the days.’
Back then, any crumbling old diner I laid my hands on would become a local hotspot, with customers lining up to get a waiting number.
...That was the kind of man I was.
“How is there not a single customer?”
I watched a fly buzzing through the empty air, then shifted my gaze inside the booth.
Chloe was needlessly chopping green onions on an empty cutting board. Senior Hana was quietly reading in a corner, and Ryozo was tapping away on her laptop with a bored expression.
The entire view of the shop consisted of nothing but my club members. For the record, Weapon had gone out to hand out flyers.
“This shouldn't be happening...”
Even if we couldn't prepare perfectly, we did our best. Despite combining my twenty years of know-how with the club members' competence, the booth was completely empty. It was a highly unfamiliar sight, at least to me.
Was the menu selection a mistake? I had chosen it after careful consideration because it didn't require heavy knife work and was a dish that appealed to almost everyone. Besides, who doesn't like Kimchi Stew?
Even though we were assigned to the outskirts because we were a small club booth, Weapon had gone to the very heart of the festival to hand out flyers. Yet, we could barely see a single soul.
“U-Um, Geomma-kun.”
Chloe, who had been awkwardly chopping green onions, approached hesitantly. She faltered, noticing my dark expression. I replied, feeling a bit awkward myself.
“Yeah, what's up?”
“I've finished prepping the ingredients. Is there anything else I can do?”
Her words hit right where it hurt. A dull ache throbbed in my chest.
On the other hand, Chloe's eyes burned with passion. I smiled faintly and said,
“...Well, could you bring some more bowls from your room? Just in case customers start flooding in later.”
Chloe gave a small nod and headed off. I watched her back for a moment before shaking my head.
‘This is the first time my hands have been idle because there's no work to do.’
It was rough going right from the start. I had confidently declared, "If we're going to do this, let's enjoy it," but at this rate, the day would slip away without any results. I needed to find a way.
‘But why isn't Weapon back yet? He said he was going to hand out flyers.’
He had volunteered to suffer under the scorching sun.
He claimed that if someone had to do it, it had to be him.
But given how hot it was, he shouldn't have been able to stay outside for that long. Yet, two hours had already passed, and he still hadn't returned.
Just as doubt began to creep in, Ryozo suddenly stood up, her eyes narrowing. She spoke in a cold voice.
“...I'm going to go drag that bastard Weapon back.”
With that, Ryozo swept out of the booth like a cold gust of wind.
Her profile showed she was barely swallowing her rising irritation.
“What's with her?”
When I tilted my head in confusion, Senior Hana, who had been reading, chuckled.
“I think it might be because of that.”
Senior Hana gestured with her chin toward Ryozo's laptop screen. I turned my gaze there. Low-resolution videos filled the square screen.
‘CCTV footage?’
Presumably, Ryozo had hacked into it. To think she could breach the Joaquin Academy network, which boasted the highest level of security, as easily as opening a bedroom door...
‘But what does this have to do with her leaving?’
Even when I questioned Senior Hana with my eyes, she just kept reading with a faint smile.
I turned my attention back to the laptop and stared at it. Soon, my eyes drifted toward the corner of the screen.
There, in the middle of a dense crowd, was Weapon, cheering enthusiastically. Clutched tightly under his armpit were crumpled flyers. For the record, Ryozo had made those.
“……”
At that moment, I had a premonition.
If things went wrong, Speed Weapon might actually die at Ryozo's hands today.
* * *
Some time passed.
Ryozo, who had gone out on her expedition, finally returned. In one hand, she dragged Weapon along like a corpse. Blood was smeared all over the bridge of his nose.
With an expressionless face, Ryozo tossed him aside like a crumpled gum wrapper. Weapon slumped onto the floor like a limp piece of pickled green onion.
“……”
“Ugh... uuuuurgh...”
Weapon let out a muffled groan, his mouth apparently busted. Ryozo clapped her hands together to dust them off.
‘Just how badly did she beat him?’
He looked pitiful, but he had brought this on himself. I didn't feel particularly sorry for him.
I crouched down in front of Weapon, who was barely breathing. He managed to stretch out a hand and croaked,
“Ugh... Prez... save me...”
It was a sorrowful wail. Letting out a low hum, I inspected his physical condition.
His nose seemed a bit broken, but other than that, there didn't seem to be any major issues. I smiled with satisfaction.
“Well, at least none of your limbs are broken, so it won't affect your work.”
“...P-Prez...?”
Weapon's pupils trembled faintly. Straightening my knees, I stood up and said,
“There's some gauze over there. Go wipe off the blood.”
I had stocked it just in case Chloe cut her hand while cooking. Turning to Senior Hana, I continued,
“As for handing out flyers... Senior Hana, could you do it instead?”
“Sure. I was getting bored anyway, so this is perfect. I'll go do it.”
Senior Hana stretched and gave me an okay sign.
“Ah, and Ryozo, could you print some more flyers? These are covered in blood, so I don't think we can use them. Just print them out and hand them over to Senior.”
“And after that?”
“Since we're promoting anyway, don't just rely on flyers. Post on social media too, and load it up with hashtags. I'll leave the rest to you.”
Ryozo nodded. I chuckled softly and looked down. Weapon stared up at me with a blank, despondent gaze.
“You're on serving duty.”
Speechless, Weapon's lips trembled before he finally nodded.
Clap.
I clapped my hands once. The club members scattered to their respective posts. I tied a bandana around my forehead and tightened the straps of my apron.
“Now, we should get some customers.”
If you find a problem, you excise it and improve.
That is the basic rule of business.
* * *
From the afternoon onward, people began to gather.
The booth, which had been completely empty when Weapon was handing out flyers, was now filled with a decent crowd.
It was the moment Senior Hana's legwork and Ryozo's typing truly shone.
‘Now this feels like work.’
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Chloe was vigorously chopping in my stead.
My idea of helping out with a machete had been flatly rejected by the disgusted expressions of my club members.
‘What a shame.’
Left with no choice, I stood beside her, boiling the broth in earthenware pots and adjusting the seasoning.
Our coordination was so perfectly in sync that it felt almost rhythmic.
‘...She's good.’
Though Chloe self-deprecatingly called herself a culinary dunce, perhaps because her armament was a katana, her knife skills were outstanding. A look of pure enjoyment played on her face.
“Whoa, what is this? Why is it so good?”
“Right? What did they say this dish was called? I want to try making it when I go back to France.”
“They said it's Kimchi Stew. There aren't even many ingredients in it, but the seasoning is spot on.”
The customers of various nationalities showered us with nothing but praise. The best form of promotion is word of mouth.
Satisfy the tongue, and the customers' mouths will spread the word. After all, it's only natural to want to share delicious food.
“Weapon, this goes to table nine.”
“Yeth, got it.”
Weapon made a nasal sound because of the gauze stuffed up his nostrils. Hearing a burly guy make such a cute sound made my stomach churn a bit, but at least he had snapped out of it and was working diligently.
To be honest, I felt a bit bad for treating him so harshly earlier, but Weapon had come to apologize to me first. He explained that he had been a massive fan of the American hero 'All Mute' for a long time, which made him lose his mind.
Seeing him speak so sheepishly, I responded with a broad grin. Only then did his gloomy expression clear up. For men, actions speak louder than words anyway.
‘Though Weapon is usually such an info-dumper.’
Well, the important thing was that his sincerity came through.
‘...Anyway.’
The hero All Mute, of whom Weapon was a die-hard fan. Her real name was Kahn Elizabeth.
Just like on Earth, the United States was the world's number one superpower here as well. Perhaps because of that prestige, they had their own unique system.
For instance, they called 'heroes' heroes, and they wore colorful, skin-tight spandex costumes. Exactly like what you'd imagine. Seriously.
To my eyes, not being native to this world, it was rather embarrassing, but here, it was accepted as completely normal.
Today was the first time I had seen it in person, and my impression was...
I was incredibly grateful that Kang Geomma wasn't an American.
‘How can anyone walk around wearing something like that?’
Regardless of her appearance, Kahn Elizabeth was currently the closest person to the Seven Stars now that the Sword Emperor had retired. That meant there was a high probability our paths would cross, given that I was unofficially designated as the Sword Emperor's successor.
‘Let's avoid running into her if possible.’
In any case, I had no intention of leaving the booth during the three days of the festival. Besides, there was no way someone as highly spotlighted as her would come all the way here just to eat Kimchi Stew.
“Whew, this is way busier than I expected.”
As evening approached, customers began to flood in. Senior Hana's marketing skills must have been extraordinary. I picked up the pace.
Heat rose from the earthenware pots in the middle of midsummer. The thick, spicy aroma tickled my nose, but I didn't feel even a shred of annoyance. In fact, wiping away the beads of sweat felt quite refreshing.
But my relief was short-lived.
Flutter.
The booth's curtain fluttered. Soon after, a crowd of men wearing martial arts uniforms poured in.
“Welco—”
Weapon, who was greeting them, froze. The attention of everyone in the booth focused on the same spot.
Click, clack.
The sound of footsteps echoed. At that, the men in martial arts uniforms parted to make way. Soon, the person in question walked out to the center. Her cheongsam swayed, fully revealing the lines of her legs.
“U-Uh, wait, that person is...!”
One of the customers spilled their Kimchi Stew in surprise. The reactions of the others were not much different. As if on cue, they began snapping photos.
“Whoaaaa! To think I'd get to see her here!”
“Please look over here! I'm a huge fan!”
Everyone stared at the woman with eyes full of admiration. The male customers whistled. I was the only one whose expression hardened as I clicked my tongue.
‘Talk about bad luck.’
A moment later, the woman standing in the center of the group took a few steps forward and stopped right in front of me. Countless eyes locked onto us.
A brief silence fell over the room. The air grew chilly.
“So, it's you?”
She thrust her expressionless face forward. She bore a decent resemblance to some faces I knew.
‘The Twins of Tyranny.’
Her eyes flared with hostility.
“The one who made my little brothers like that.”
Mao Rang, the Iron Leg.
A petty grudge stood right before my eyes.