Restaurant Hills Opens (2)

"...With the ribs still attached?"

"Yeah. Leave a few bones together and cut it so it feels like you're handing over the whole rack."

Caipol Central Market, the butcher shop Holy Cow.

Beef was not the only thing hanging there. Chicken, duck, and other meats were sorted by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kind along the hooks, and the air carried that raw, metallic tang peculiar to the trade. Every time Blow came in hunting some unusual cut, the proprietor tilted his head and studied him.

"Last time you walked off with pork neck and belly—cuts nobody eats—and now you want the rib bones left on?"

"Yeah. The meat I took then sold extremely well."

"Truly?"

"While we're on it, shall we settle that first? From now on I'd like to take those cuts in bulk, on a regular schedule."

Blow flicked a glance aside, and Hans, waiting at his elbow, held out a contract. The butcher peeled off his gloves and took the paper. The figures written there were generous enough to leave him grateful; he had nothing to object to, and nothing to add.

"Very well. I'm surprised the parts we usually grind for sausage are moving."

"Come by later and try them yourself. Your mind will change. Why not come with Sullivan sometime?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Come to think of it, you said you were sent here on a referral from the proprietor of Egg Bottles?"

"He told me the meat at this shop was good."

The same picture rose in both their minds: Sullivan, balding, a beer in hand, smiling with easy warmth. The memory spread a grin across the butcher's face, and he bowed to Blow once more.

"If the chance comes, I'll stop by. It's nothing but good news for me—you paying a high price for those awkward cuts."

"Meat is only as good as the one who uses it."

In truth, Blow had to work to drag the corners of his mouth back down. In this world, pork belly and tenderloin of the same weight differed in price by more than four times. Back in his days as Han Ji-hoo, belly had crept up and up until people called it gold belly—and this was not that. Not even close.

While he was swallowing the smile, the proprietor finished signing and showed him the untrimmed pork laid out on the block.

"We wandered off for a moment. So what you're asking, young master, is for the pork ribs to be left attached?"

"Yeah. Cut them into portions that sell well. Not too long."

Still uncertain, the butcher offered the suggestion carefully.

"Shall I cut one or two so you can look them over before you decide?"

"Sullivan must have sent me to the right man. You've got a way of making the work itself look delicious. That'd be better."

Blow praised him with an openly pleased face, and the butcher's expression could only turn complicated. Attitudes might have been improving of late, and this might have been Caipol, the city of commerce, but a man whose trade was cutting meat almost never stood face to face with a noble like this. Hearing praise from one was rarer still.

His mood lifting for no good reason, he explained in careful detail how he meant to trim the meat.

"You're saying this takes less work than the usual cut?"

"Yes. There's no need to separate each rib. Of course I'll lower the price."

"You really are easy to talk to."

"Less work, so it's only natural."

"I'd like to keep a good relationship like this. What's your name?"

"Red Bull."

The name caught Blow off guard. He scratched his cheek with a finger and asked.

"Sleep well at night?"

"It's physical work, so sleep comes easily enough. Though I'm not sure why you're asking..."

"Nothing. It's a name that suits the trade."

"I hear that often."

With that, Blow offered his hand. Red Bull hesitated a moment, then took it gently in both of his. Blow moved through his plans as if he had grown wings, one step clicking neatly into the next.

After a few trials and errors, Red Bull cut the ribs perfectly to Blow's needs. They arrived in a grand sweep, like the pipes of an organ: full racks of baby back ribs.

Roasted to perfection in the oven—Melo's newly acquired weapon—the deep brown racks, flushed with red, gleamed under the lights hung overhead. The sweet, distinctive smell of pork cooked down in sauce drew every eye in the room, the Traffic Light Trio's most of all.

Alice, the yellow light of the trio, wiped away a thread of drool and asked Blow.

"It's a cut I've never had before..."

"It's the meat on the bone, so it's chewier than almost anything else."

"Ah."

"How are we supposed to eat it? I can't even bring myself to start..."

"Split it with a fork and knife, then pick it up and tear it off with your hands. I'll do the first one."

"W-with our hands?"

"That's how it tastes best."

He said it and cut the ribs at once, setting a piece on each of their plates. Megan came over just then and laid an extra napkin in front of every one of them.

"Thank you!!"

"When you're finished, there's lemon water ready so you can clean your hands. Don't worry. Just eat."

"You're thorough."

"Unless it's ribs, I hate getting food on my hands too."

Disposable gloves would have been best of all, but in this world they amounted to an epic item. The lemon water was the next-best thing he had prepared.

Before long, without anyone waiting to see who would go first, they were tearing the meat from the bones with their teeth. The thick, clinging sauce snapped their eyes wide, and they worked their mouths in a hurry. The chew was nothing like any meat they had eaten before.

"It's... incredibly sweet."

The sweetness the smell had promised them—and Hills could pour on the sugar in a way no other restaurant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in Dusk Block could. Radness bent her brows and poured out praise. Cosette stripped every rib clean, not a scrap of meat left behind. Only after seeing them did a sigh of relief slip from Melo.

"Young master."

Radness, who had demolished two ribs in a blink, looked up at Blow, watching with a satisfied face.

"Hm? What is it? Want me to get you water?"

"If we work here, can we eat food like this every day?"

"Of course. Even the things Melo ruins taste good."

"No wonder Senior Linne's skin keeps getting glossier...!"

Marveling, Radness clapped a hand to her chest and pleaded.

"You absolutely have to hire me!"

"I asked first, so you're going to pick me...!"

Blow was in the middle of promising that he would when Linne saw hands going up, one after another, around the Traffic Light Trio's table.

"One order of ribs."

"Ribs, please."

"I'll have what's out there."

"Y-yes!"

Linne ran for the kitchen and called out in a bright voice.

"F-four ribs!"

"Okaaay! They're practically ready!"

"A-already?"

Melo answered the startled Linne with a proud little swagger.

"The young master said that if one order of ribs went out, the next would definitely follow, so I should have them ready ahead of time."

"The young master really is..."

Hans was clicking his tongue at Blow, still talking with the trio in the distance, when Melo tossed a salad and held it out.

"Linne! Please! It's table three—just take it to the young master!"

"Yes!"

Linne took it at once and headed for him. Blow recognized it in a glance and smiled.

"Thanks, Linne. Yesterday and today."

"N-no! Boss! I-I'm a regular employee!"

"You worked hard, so I'll count yesterday and today double."

"R-really!?"

"Of course. We'll talk later."

"Yes!"

Blow took the salad from her and set it on the trio's table.

"Cleanse your palates. This is on the house too, so don't be shy."

"Boss!"

"Boss..."

The Traffic Light Trio was nearly in tears. Afraid they might actually start crying, Blow pointed at the salad heaped with bright lettuce and arugula.

"It's tossed in balsamic. Try it."

They put it in their mouths without waiting to see who would go first. Tomato mussel stew, garlic meat and shrimp, and the ribs on top of all that—mouths that had grown a little heavy with richness met a bright, perfectly timed bitterness, and the gasp it drew was more than enough. The crisp sound of salad filled the table, and the first to speak was Cosette, the blue light.

"Wow, this is really fresh. Boss, I think this is the best thing here."

"Better than the meat?"

"Yes."

"That's a memorable palate."

He didn't understand it. Even so, Blow wore a pleased look for the ones who always read an examiner's intent with perfect clarity. Comments flew at him from every side.

"It's not exactly cheap... but it really feels like you're eating properly."

"I like that the food's so varied."

"I heard you only sold potatoes, so I assumed it'd be something like that. This is a complete surprise."

"The inside looks kind of unfinished, but the longer you look, the more it somehow works."

Someone said it while running a hand over the red brick of the wall. Seeing that, Blow felt a rush of gratitude toward Ornn, who had reproduced the atmosphere he wanted down to the last detail. He had just decided that when they came by he would hand over a whole oak cask and an entire pig, and was telling Megan and Hans as much, when Megan looked troubled.

"Young master, while you were at the potion shop yesterday, Mr. Ornn stopped by briefly. He said today would be difficult. Something urgent came up..."

"Ornn?"

"Yes. He said he was terribly sorry, and that he would apologize to you in person later."

"Well... Ornn's a barbarian. A crowd would have been a burden, I suppose."

"He apologized over and over. He said he'd come by when the cold storage is under construction."

"All right. We'll treat him properly then. He must have his reasons."

"Yes. I'll prepare for that."

Megan went out to clear tables. Blow shook off the brief disappointment, walked the floor once more, and began sorting through, one by one, the points where the restaurant could still be improved.

Five hours after opening. Four in the afternoon.

With a moment of slack, Blow had held two tables back for the evening and was taking a rest when Linne came up.

"B-boss! Wh-when is Senior Skadi coming?"

"Skadi? Why?"

"I-if she comes early, I think we n-need to set the beer cask now."

Rowbedi nodded as well, his face grave. A boisterous voice carried in from outside. Blow recognized its owner at once.

"Set it up."

"Blow Deblique!!"

Skadi, her hair in a ponytail again today, and Herbena, back to her original hair, flung the restaurant doors open and came in.

"Skadi, do you not own a schedule?"

"Coming here is the schedule. Why? You don't like it?"

"No?"

"You love it! Don't complain for nothing!"

"I saved the innermost seats. Go sit there."

"Hmph!"

After greeting Linne and Rowbedi, Skadi dropped into her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seat and shouted.

"Proprietor! Four beers!"

"Ordering three at once is one thing, but you don't want anything to go with them?"

"You don't know me? Just lay something out."

As she said it, she set two gold down on the table without hesitation. The moment Blow saw the coins, he bent at the waist toward her.

"Will two of the house specials do?"

"I like how fast you switch postures."

"It'll sit heavy, so I'll lay out a salad as well."

"Wahaha! Sharp as ever!"

"...I'm seriously going to lose it."

Herbena laughed quietly at the two of them. Skadi was tearing into the ribs set before them, declaring it the way of the East, when the door opened again. This time Cunsai ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and Yulia came in, leading Luta and Marchen.

Blow went straight to them. Skadi and Herbena rose as well, setting their ribs aside. Greetings passed among them, and Cunsai came up to Blow with shining eyes.

"Young master! I passed by earlier, and business was booming!"

"That's all thanks to you worrying over me."

Yulia smiled, pleased, and added in a bright voice.

"Young master, perhaps because I came from the potion shop yesterday, this restaurant's atmosphere feels quite the opposite of the shop's."

"A place for drinking shouldn't glare too brightly."

"It almost feels like an angel-and-devil concept. Maybe because the tiles are black."

"If you're going to assign it that kind of meaning... I suppose it does, a little."

Blow had gone awkward saying it when Skadi, already back in her seat with a beer in hand, lifted one corner of her mouth and called out.

"That's right! Jane runs the potion shop, and Blow runs the restaurant!"

"Pfft."

Only Melo's laugh carried out of the kitchen. Blow narrowed his eyes in that direction, but Melo kept her mouth firmly shut as if nothing had happened, diligently roasting potatoes.

"Sometimes it really doesn't feel like I'm the owner."

"Young master, may I sit at the table where Lady Skadi is sitting?"

"Do as you like."

Blow opened his palm toward Skadi's table. Yulia shook her head.

"No, Cunsai. We have something important to discuss with the young master, don't we?"

"Ah—should I tell him now?"

"Yes. It's good news, so the sooner the better."

"Then... let's talk at the table beside it."

"Yes. It's business."

The four who had just arrived took their seats, and Blow Deblique with them. Cunsai looked as if his mouth were itching to speak. Blow put the question to him lightly.

"So, Cunsai. What good thing happened?"

"Young master! I've decided to open a shop of my own!"

He nearly shouted it, his voice full of expectation. The progress was faster than Blow had thought, and surprise settled on his face.

"That's good news. A doughnut shop?"

"Yes! I'm going to open a small one in Dusk Block."

"Dusk Block, of all places. So I've gained a competitor. Your doughnuts are no joke."

Yulia, who had been watching in silence, shook her head.

"It isn't competition, young master. For Cunsai's doughnut shop, I put up the capital. I'd like you to advise on it, and manage it."

"What?"

Yulia glanced at Marchen, seated beside her. A contract was held out to Blow. As his eyes ran down the page, the first thing that caught them was his own share, written beside the stake of Yulia, the one who had provided the capital.

A full ten percent. Yulia smiled with her eyes at the startled Blow.