Footsteps of the White Whale
A woman in rather sophisticated staff attire by this world's standards sets a single plate down in front of me. The plates are placed one by one in front of Chris, Mel, and Janet as well.
Mel lets out an excited squeal, her face lighting up.
"Waaah! It, it's here!"
A sweet aroma assaults my nose. It's the faint scent that's been wafting through the restaurant since we entered. The smell that whets the appetite rises from the plate.
Like my three companions, I peer into my plate.
—Whoosh.
The warm steam rising from the plate warms my face. A lattice-patterned pancake glowing a delicious light brown hue steams invitingly. The crispy exterior is drenched in syrup made from honey and maple sap. The waffle's ridges trap the overflowing syrup, keeping it from spilling onto the plate.
That's what they usually call a waffle.
Atop it, a pat of butter floats like a lone boat on a serene lake— the perfect finishing touch. The yellow butter melts into a gooey puddle from the waffle's heat.
It makes me want to order a cup of coffee.
—Gulp...
'If I eat this... I'll... gain weight, right?'
It looks delicious... but the fitness freak soul inside me recoils at the sight of this food.
Thanks to my recently skyrocketing workout volume, I no longer stick to extreme dieting like before. Still, desserts loaded mostly with sugar and flour remain something I rarely touch.
"...Captain? Didn't you say we were going to a restaurant?"
"You're getting a free meal on me and you're complaining? Everyone else is happy except you, so shut it."
"..."
Janet was right. The three women excluding me couldn't tear their eyes away from the beautiful sight on their plates, their gazes sparkling.
If they had smartphones in hand, they would've snapped dozens of photos for sure. I know because I used to do the same back when I posted on SNS.
'At least there's no whipped cream on top... silver lining, I guess.'
To be honest, I did indulge in desserts occasionally even before. When hanging out with girls, you have to hit up places loaded with sweets—it's practically mandatory. Picking at your food there just makes you seem uptight rather than disciplined.
Luckily, this waffle might not have as much sugar as it looks. In a world where honey and sugar aren't cheap.
—Clink.
With the other three still just admiring it with their eyes, I decide to take the first bite on their behalf. I pick up the fork and knife beside the plate and cut a small piece.
First bite of dessert on an empty stomach. A finger-width size is plenty.
The syrup-soaked waffle slices easily through the not-so-sharp bread knife, proving its crispiness. I brush it lightly against the melting butter— or not— and bring it to my mouth on the fork.
"...It's worthy of being called the capital's specialty."
"Heh heh heh. Right?"
No frozen or factory-made food here means everything's handmade. Which means it's damn good.
Even if you're not obsessed with sweetness, it's worth traveling far for this waffle.
"I-is it good? Chanyoung?"
"Ch-Chanyoung? How is it? Tell us all about it!..."
Chris and Mel lean in, asking me—the only one who's tasted it.
It's not like I have the only waffle; untouched ones sit on everyone's plates. They could find out just by eating, but they ask me anyway.
Of course, I don't find it odd. I've been through this plenty with female friends posting food pics on SNS.
What they want isn't a dry "just eat it and see."
I smile softly, fanning their anticipation.
"Hmm... The outside is crispy, but soaked in syrup so it's not tough at all... perfect texture? The inside is fluffy and soft like a well-baked pancake."
"Gulp..."
"And every chew fills your mouth with the sweet syrup soaked into the batter... mmm..."
"Ughhh!!..."
"In a word, it's really good. Eat it while it's hot. Both of you, before it cools."
Mel and Chris, swallowing hard as they hang on my words, finally pick up their forks.
If I'd known Chris loved sweets this much, I would've taken her out more. Thanks to my old SNS days, I know a decent dessert spots.
Janet savors my review with a smug, satisfied grin. That's how it is for the one who recommends the spot. The more you enjoy it, the happier they get— like they own the place.
"Captain! Thanks for the treat! ...H-hot! So good!!"
"Mmm... Chanyoung, this is...!"
Seeing Chris's blissful face brings a proud smile to mine automatically. Even though it's all on Janet's dime and I didn't do anything special.
Once she's done, I should share some of my untouched waffle. My tongue and stomach aren't used to sweets... eating too much would make me queasy for sure.
Natural Healing might prevent it, but no need to force it.
"By the way, Mel... the more I look, the more feminine you seem. Most guys wouldn't gush over a waffle like this. Like a monk who's broken his vows."
—Tilt.
Janet tilts her head, glancing between me and Mel with a puzzled look.
Mel's face, mid-chew in sweet bliss, freezes solid.
For Janet, who's clueless about money but sharp otherwise, that's a keen observation.
It's not in the original story. My presence as a fellow guy probably prompted the comparison.
I need to smooth this over. Mel, frozen like ice, doesn't look capable of clearing it up without awkwardness.
"Probably just an androgynous personality."
"Oh, right. Mel's got that androgynous look too. I thought you were a girl at first."
—Twitch!
"Um... With all the misunderstandings he gets, poking at it might hurt. Look at Mel's face— he's troubled."
"Huh? R-really? Did I touch a sore spot again?..."
Confusion flickers across Janet's face. She just realized from my words... but calling a guy feminine can sound like an insult.
Classic novels use it as a taunt: "pussy-ass bitch."
"Sorry. I wasn't thinking. Did I offend you?"
"Ah! N-no! It's not that, but..."
Mel accepts Janet's apology. But her reluctance to dwell on it shows plainly— enough for everyone to notice the awkwardness.
"Th-the captain's buying waffles, so it's fine! No need to apologize! Really!"
She falls back on the free meal excuse. Mel knows Janet didn't mean harm, so accepting apologies nonstop pricks her conscience.
"Th-thank you... Chanyoung..."
Mel whispers toward me, voice tiny like a leaking breeze, but trembling slightly.
Relief.
Time to change the subject and ask something I've been wondering.
I turn to Janet, who's poking her waffle sullenly with her fork.
"Captain Janet. Why is the White Whale Mercenary Group called the White Whale?"
"...Huh? That's what you've been curious about?"
"Yeah. Nothing white inside the group, no whale or sea-related stuff... Oh, is it tied to the founding captain?"
"White Whale isn't inherited. I founded it."
"...You're the founder? Impressive."
"Heh heh. I had a knack for swordplay."
Janet toys with her bread knife casually. First time hearing she's the founder. Not in the original.
The name's origin too.
Shouldn't a member know that much?
I wait quietly for her answer.
But Janet looks a bit troubled, glancing at me, Chris, and Mel.
"Nothing I can't say... but it's not a story for over food."
"Hm... Just light curiosity. If it's uncomfortable, no need."
"No no no, not dodging. It's really not food-chat material. A few members already know."
I thought she was beating around the bush— "don't wanna tell outsiders."
But seems it's genuinely not mealtime talk.
She's smirking at my misunderstanding.
"I've been curious too. Iron Lion and Sky Mountains have famous origins, but White Whale has no rumors..."
"Now that Chanyoung mentions it, me too?"
Mel and Chris chime in, spearing waffle bites. Happiness from the sweetness mixes with curiosity in their eyes.
"Hm... Okay? Don't blame me if it kills the waffle vibe."
"Uh... I-is it scary or gruesome?..."
"Heh heh. Nah."
"Phew! Then I'm good!"
"Hm... Where to start..."
Mel's sigh of relief kicks off the tale. Janet ponders, picking her words. Even if some members know, she's not used to telling it.
"I was born in a port town. Nothing special, just your average harbor village. No mom, and dad was..."
—Munch munch.
Janet's bread knife slices her waffle. A huge chunk— incomparable to mine— goes in one bite.
She chews with eyes closed, swallows fully, then continues.
"...Ambiguous. Wondered if I could even call him a father."
"Mmm..."
"Everyone's got some family tragedy these days, but mine was extreme. Anyway, my old man was a sailor. Rough, like you'd expect."
Not just foul-mouthed. I picture young Janet getting beaten. Have I grown fond of her? It sours my mood a bit.
"Anyway... One day, the ship he sailed never came back. Even though it didn't go far. Weird, no storm either."
The rest is simple. But heavy.
Enough to not suit mealtime, as Janet said.
A few days later, some planks washed ashore. Folks assumed her dad's ship sank for unknown reasons. They even held funerals for everyone aboard, including him.
Janet was glad her father "died." He took her earnings instead of helping.
She could earn enough to live independently. And had the combat skills to protect herself— blood of a sailor.
The shipwreck story turned true the next day...
A survivor washed up.
"Heh heh heh. Talk about bad luck. Of all people, my dad. Right?"
"..."
"Listen. It ends happy. Turns out a whale wrecked the ship. A sperm whale."
For some reason, the whale attacked. The small coastal ship sank easily; all crew fell into the sea.
And Janet's dad was the only one eaten by it.
That's why he survived.
"Man... The village near the port had a sperm whale washed up dead, head bashed in? He noticed it died and crawled out of its stomach. Life... clings hard."
"So... your father is still alive?"
"Nah, died a week later. Cursed by the dead whale— turned pure white all over."
Not a curse. Whale stomach acid bleached him white.
If sperm whales here match what I know, no magic involved.
But she wouldn't know. To her child eyes, her weakening father from complications looked cursed.
"That's why White Whale."
"Yep. To honor the whale that cursed my enemy— turning his body white as he died— and gave me freedom."