With the matter of Count Bradley settled for the time being, I was left with a respectable amount of wealth.
A stash of gold coins—an amount I could never have hoped to reach by steadily grinding through the rookie requests assigned by the Regular Guild—shone quietly in a corner of my [Storage Space]. This was my reward from Count Bradley, plus the additional cut I’d secured through negotiations with Sasha’s Dark Guild.
And yet, my quality of life hadn’t improved one bit.
Ever since that incident in the "Cradle of the Dead," the S-rank guild [Shield of the Sky] had officially branded me an enemy. It wasn't as if the guards had put out a "wanted" poster for me as a criminal. However, the influence of an S-rank guild spanned the entirety of the Royal Capital.
Walking through the city with my face exposed during the day would only invite unnecessary trouble. Consequently, I spent my daylight hours either erasing my presence with [Stealth Arts], avoiding the outdoors entirely, or moving about with my hood pulled low.
No matter how much money I had, I couldn't move out of the dim, dingy "Lizard's Tail."
Because of the inn's deep ties to the Dark Guild, members of the Regular Guild stayed away to avoid friction. It was a wretched environment, but for me, the "Lizard's Tail" was arguably the safest hideout in the Royal Capital.
Terrible environment or not, some things were hard to stomach. My biggest grievance lately was the "food" situation.
The "Lizard's Tail" had a dining hall. If you went there, you could get a meal at any hour. But it was disgusting.
No matter how many times I ate it, it was vile. It was so bad that I felt a fresh sense of shock with every bite. Usually, a person gets used to bad food eventually. However, it seemed that human biology simply wasn't capable of adapting to the cooking at the Lizard's Tail.
I even tried using [Compounding Arts] to create a medicine that would alter my sense of taste, but even that failed. As if mocking my every effort, the food remained stubbornly revolting.
Since I couldn't visit the Royal Capital’s more reputable restaurants, fixing the dining hall at the "Lizard's Tail" became my top priority.
At dusk, I visited the street stalls just before closing time to procure a large haul of fresh meat and vegetables. Even with my [Freshness Maintenance] skill, the best cooking required the best ingredients.
When I returned to the "Lizard's Tail," the shopkeeper with the eye patch was sitting at the reception counter as usual. I decided to take the plunge and ask the Lizard Old Man for a favor.
"Old man, can I borrow the kitchen in the dining hall?"
At my question, the old man narrowed his one good eye. A look of deep resignation and a flicker of pity crossed his face.
"Don't do it, Walt. Many Dark Guild members have tried that before you. They all failed."
He began to speak in an admonishing tone.
It turned out that the person running the kitchen was the Lizard Old Man's wife.
Her name was Carla. She was tall, with a physique built of thick, corded muscle. Her job was [Martial Artist]. Why she was standing in a kitchen was a complete mystery.
However, her convictions were as hard as steel.
Carla had immense confidence in her cooking. She firmly believed her food was the "ultimate flavor." She refused to listen to any suggestions for improvement from outsiders, let alone a request from someone wanting to use her kitchen to cook for themselves.
The kitchen was Carla's domain, and no one was allowed inside. Anyone who had challenged her in the past had been promptly evicted by her iron fists.
"I don't care. I'm going into that kitchen."
"Hmph. Suit yourself."
I headed down the corridor next to the reception and reached the dining hall. It was dinnertime, and several thugs were sitting at the tables, staring at their plates with expressions of pure agony.
Clutching my ingredients, I stepped into the kitchen and stood before Carla. She was tall, short-haired, and heavily muscled, currently facing off against a massive slab of monster meat on a cutting board.
"I want to borrow the kitchen."
Carla set aside a vicious-looking meat cleaver and let her gaze crawl over me, appraising me from head to toe. Her eyes were so sharp that an average adventurer would have started shaking from a single glare.
"You think you can step into my sacred space with those thin arms? This is a battlefield, boy. If your heart isn't in it, you're going to regret it."
Why is it a battlefield? It’s a kitchen.
"I'm not playing around. I’m going to win this spot so I can actually eat a decent meal."
Carla clenched her fists, the veins on her forehead bulging. Then, her body blurred.
"Hah!"
The air whistled. Her fist shot toward my face, intending to punch right through me.
"Whoosh..."
I relaxed my muscles and twisted my neck, letting Carla's fist graze past. I tossed my ingredients onto a nearby workbench and dropped into a combat stance.
"So you have some confidence in your skills. However—"
No, that exchange just now was definitely the movement of a martial artist.
"Perish!!"
She unleashed a sharp front kick along the shortest possible trajectory. I had a wall at my back; there was no room to dodge. I dropped my center of gravity and activated [Iron Skin].
"What...!?"
Carla’s front kick, intended to crush my internal organs, stopped dead without piercing my skin. Her face contorted in shock.
"Is that enough to earn my place in the kitchen?"
"Not even close...!!"
Carla abandoned her one-hit-kill strategy and increased her speed, opting for volume. She unleashed a flurry of rapid-fire punches in the blink of an eye, weaving in feints as she moved.
But it wouldn't work on someone who had mastered [Mindless Parry]. I parried her strikes as fluidly as grass swaying in the wind.
"Ugh...!"
Eventually, Carla's movements grew sloppy. Whether from fatigue or impatience, gaps began to appear between her thrusts. Against me, that was a fatal mistake.
"Roar!"
I drove a full-power strike into Carla's solar plexus. The shockwave rippled through her body, and the entire dining hall seemed to shake.
Carla nearly buckled, but she managed to stay on her feet. A trickle of fresh blood ran from the corner of her mouth.
"...What's your name, kid?"
"It's Walt."
"Walt. I'll give you special permission to use the 'Lizard's Tail' kitchen. You'd better make something good."
The moment Carla made her declaration, the thugs in the dining hall stood up as one and let out a deafening roar.
"The day has finally come...!!"
"Damn it! We're drinking for real tonight! It’s on me!"
"A toast to our hero, Walt!!"
The thugs began shouting for the errand boys to bring more booze, starting a rowdy celebration.
"I guess I'll make some snacks."
I cleared the unidentifiable monster meat off the cutting board and started prepping appetizers using the ingredients I’d bought from the stalls.
The fishermen back home, including my old man, drank every single night. During their banquets, I was often the one tasked with making the snacks to go with their drinks.
I quickly whipped up some garlic sautéed shrimp and a celery salad, placing the dishes on the tables where the thugs were waiting.
"Ohhhhhh! This is incredible! The booze actually goes down easy!!"
"Is this really the 'Lizard's Tail'!?"
"Tell me I'm not dreaming...!"
I stayed in the kitchen until late that night, churning out bar snacks. I didn't get around to cooking my own dinner until well after midnight, but for once, I didn't mind the wait.