Midnight Cuckoo (15)
The innkeeper approached the demon and said something to her. The demon scowled and shot back defiantly, but the innkeeper just shrugged. She stared at him hard for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. Heading back inside the inn, she soon emerged carrying a sack big enough for one person—clearly heavy, yet she showed no sign of strain. Demons really did have some serious strength.
The innkeeper slung the sack onto the Hell Horse's rump and hopped up effortlessly.
"I'm off. If I'm too late, just handle things yourselves."
"Mm..."
"Yes!"
"……."
The innkeeper grabbed Marim's hand and pulled her up to sit in front of him.
"It's fucking fast, so hold on tight."
Tensed up, Marim gripped the Hell Horse's smoldering black mane firmly.
"The market..."
"Got it covered. Let's go."
The Hell Horse kicked off silently and shot toward the half-elf community of Lenditofte.
Lenditofte was a human city nestled near the Tainibik Valley. Legend had it that long ago, the Revenge King Blavan cleaved the mountain range with a single sword stroke. I'd been hyped about it, but seeing it up close? Just a puny, withered gorge. Legends always turn out to be bullshit once you peel back the hype.
Sure, I'm an unofficial world-saving hero who's slain the Demon King dozens of times over, but in reality, I'm just a greedy innkeeper bullying poor half-elves into employment. The half-elves' home was supposedly somewhere in the forest at the mouth of that Tainibik Valley. Technically part of Lenditofte, but way outside the city walls. No way discriminated half-elves would clump up inside a human city—they wouldn't want to squeeze in among us anyway. How could they relax in a place full of folks who look down on them?
"Where to?"
"There's a small path in the woods. Head that way."
Easing the Hell Horse into the forest, we spotted a narrow trail through the dense midsummer underbrush—barely wide enough for wild beasts. Half-elves being small-framed probably explained the tight squeeze. No outsider would ever spot it at a glance. The Hell Horse held its head high, trampling bushes as it followed the path. Branches tangled in its mane snapped and fell harmlessly.
We pressed on for a good while with no sign of the half-elf settlement.
"Still far? You aren't pulling one over on me, are you?"
"No way, no way! It's coming up soon."
Sure enough, as Marim said, the trees and brush thinned out suddenly, revealing a wide clearing.
"This... is your village...?"
Around a dozen ramshackle huts dotted the clearing. They'd dug pits waist-deep in the earth and woven branches into crude cylindrical roofs. How the hell did they survive winter in those?
In the center stood a communal mud hearth with a rusted pot hanging over ashen logs that had burned white. A few scrawny rabbits—hunting catches, ears tied—dangled from a clothesline between huts, swaying gently. Piles of unidentified roots lay beneath them.
The half-elves shuffled listlessly around this pathetic setup. Dressed in ill-fitting rags, they were all skin and bones, most barefoot. No elders in sight—just youths around Marim's age. Dangerous, dirty work kept their lifespans short. Still, that elven blood made them all pretty in their own way.
The sudden arrival of the Hell Horse and a human sparked total chaos. Piercing screams, fleeing footsteps, crying kids, crashing objects.
"Hey, go calm them down quick. It's pandemonium."
Marim leaped off the Hell Horse and dashed into the fray.
"Everyone, chill! It's me, Marim!"
To help her soothe them, I backed the Hell Horse away. Waiting out of sight until the noise died down, I heard Marim's voice.
"That human's not a bad... human. At least for now. So please, everyone, just stay put. You're all stressing me out."
Judging them settled enough, I grabbed the sack from the Hell Horse and walked into the village. Aside from Marim and two young half-elves, the clearing was empty. Only wary green eyes gleamed from inside the crumbling huts.
One kid barely reached Marim's waist—tiny. The other was bigger, probably catching up to her height in a few years.
"Everyone freaked and hid in their huts. The human showing up, plus that Hell Horse looking so scary..."
"Makes sense. I'd probably do the same. Those your siblings?"
The little one hid behind Marim, trembling—adorable, like a living doll. The older one stuck close but didn't fully hide, eyeing me warily.
"Money, please."
Marim took the coin pouch from me and pried the clinging kid off. The little one refused to let go until Marim knelt to eye level, then hugged her neck tight.
"Look, sis brought money."
"Who's that human? Why'd you come with a human?"
The older kid side-eyed me. Marim grinned brightly, voice cheerful.
"That guy's my underling. I can't handle all the work alone, so I'm using him."
She shot me a pleading look. I cleared my throat.
"Uh, yeah. That's right. I'm the guy who serves your big sis as boss."
No need to spill the truth here. Mission accomplished: confirmed the community and her siblings existed in Lenditofte. Whether they saw me as Marim's subordinate didn't matter. Even if they bought it, it didn't dent my pride. And I'm no racist—half-elf kids look just like human ones to me. No interest in insulting their guardian to her face.
Marim relaxed at my words and turned to the kids.
"Hear that? No need to be scared."
"So that guy follows you around, sis? You're awesome!"
The little one beamed innocently. Her smile was so damn cute, I couldn't help grinning.
"Take the money. I'll send more next month—use it wisely."
The older kid pocketed the pouch and asked,
"Leaving already?"
"Gotta. Lots of work."
"Can't even eat together?"
"Uh... well..."
"We got a rabbit from yesterday's trap. Said just give one hind leg—let's share. Got lots of roots too."
Marim's eyes trembled, silently begging permission.
"One rabbit leg... for three of you...?"
The words slipped out. The older kid flinched and looked at me.
"Kid. How do three of you eat off one rabbit leg and roots?"
"Today sis and the guy came, so we're having meat."
"Four of us on that...?"
She stared like I was dense. I'd known half-elves had it rough, but not this bad. One leg for four? Staring at their green eyes and filthy, mismatched castoffs, I sighed.
"Save... the rabbit for later. That pot usable?"
"Been ages since we used it—not sure."
The older kid tilted her head at the pot.
"Everyone had lunch yet...?"
"We don't eat lunch. Just breakfast and dinner."
Not some cultural quirk—they were starving.
Shouldering the sack, I called Marim.
"Marim ma'am."
"Ah, y-yes... no, uh. What...?"
"Mind gathering some firewood?"
She caught on quick from the sack, grabbed the kids, and headed off. I took it to the central hearth, hunting cookware. Just the dead fire and old pot. Spotting a half-elf peeking from the nearest hut, I called,
"Got a knife or cutting board here?"
"Y... yeah..."
"Bring 'em. Big bowls too if you have any."
Pulling out potatoes, carrots, meat chunks, a few half-elves crept out with tools. I prepped ingredients on the spot for a simple stew for twenty. Diced potatoes, carrots, onions, meat—fried with masala spices, loaded with broth. Something I'd done at the inn before. Efficient for twenty, minimal ingredients. Poured over rice or bread, it was a hit. Half-elves would love it.
Marim and the kids returned with dry twigs and logs. I stacked the hearth, lit it up. Heated the pot, added oil, dumped in the prepped stuff, stir-fried. Delicious aroma bloomed instantly.
Frying in oil makes anything tasty, especially with meat. Marim's little sis gulped hard. As the scent spread, half-elves peeked from huts.
Added spices to the softening ingredients—spicy, exotic steam exploded up.
"Hngh..."
Some half-elves moaned, eyes closed, inhaling deeply.
"Someone fetch water. Time for broth."
They'd been hesitant before, but now raced with buckets. Poured water to cover, tasted, adjusted spices, sprinkled flour. Thickens the broth for better mouthfeel than thin soup. Stir steadily till ingredients softened fully.
"Stir this."
Grabbed a bold half-elf who'd sidled up close, handed her the ladle. Rifled the sack for big loaves of bread, broke them into portions.
"Everyone gather! It's safe!"
Marim rounded up the wary ones hut-to-hut. While they collected bowls, the pot bubbled near done.
No invite needed—they all crowded the hearth. I hadn't explained shit—who I was, why here, why cooking—but the smell united them.
About twenty, but only around ten showed. Rest probably working.
Ladled stew, topped with bread chunks. They sat in clusters and dug in.
"Mmm...!"
Gasps and praises erupted. Marim's siblings shoveled like possessed.
"Marim ma'am. Made extra for the workers coming back. Leaving the rest of the ingredients here."
"Uh, yeah... thanks."
She stared dazed, munching beside her siblings.
"I'll wait by the horse. Come when done."
"O-okay..."
Not fishing for thanks, nor was it a show. Better to give her space to brag and reassure. Sure enough, heading to the Hell Horse, I overheard.
"Sis is cool. You told that guy to make us yummy stuff, right?"
"Of... course! Told ya, he's my underling!"
I snapped branches into sword-like swings, hacking grass while waiting for Marim. Fronting her a month's pay before work, chauffeuring her home, even cooking for her family? Anyone watching might call me a sucker, but they'd be clueless.
Marim's weakness: her community and siblings. Threatening that got her hired. But that was yesterday. Today, switch tactics. She's already knows her precious ones are in my grasp—no need to shake it more. Corner a rat too hard, it bites the cat.
From now on, show goodwill to her siblings first. Heard a proverb from the far east during hero days: "A harmonious home smooths all paths."* Give her certainty: work hard at the inn, no funny business, and her siblings eat steady. Better than threats of slaughter. It's true, too.
Ideally, relocate them all to Rosens, but not rushed. Marim alone? Maybe. Twenty half-elves? City riot. Anyway, delivery girl's locked in. Nab a skilled chef, and we're golden. Admin and saintess on my side, guards neutral. Lambert's simple—butter him up. One rival? Crushable. Monopolize Rosens, expand to Bue and Fribourg. Next year? Three years tops.
Lost in plans, a weird noise caught my ear. Thought I misheard, but focusing—clear as day. Not forest sounds.
What the...? Gripping my branch tight, I headed toward it.