"Hey... look at that guy..."

"He looks a lot like 'Berserker' Walt..."

As I was stocking up on ingredients at the Royal Capital Market, I caught the sound of my name coming from a short distance away. Of course, they’d slapped me with the job of 'Berserker'—a title I didn't even have.

Peeking from the shadow of my hood, I spotted two men who looked like adventurers. They were staring at what appeared to be a wanted poster. On their shoulders sat a familiar emblem: a shield.

They were members of the Shield of the Sky.

I’d hoped they would have forgotten all about me while I was away from the Royal Capital, but it seemed I’d underestimated them. If anything, their obsession had only grown.

I couldn't even finish my shopping in peace. It was starting to get under my skin.

"Give me five of these fish and twenty of these shrimp."

"You got it!"

I pointed at the seafood laid out on large blocks of ice and handed the merchant a hemp bag. Unaware of my internal state, the man began slowly placing the fish into the bag with agonizing care.

"Sorry, but could you hurry it up a bit?"

"Sure thing!"

The merchant continued, picking up the shrimp one by one with excruciating slowness.

"It’s definitely Walt, isn't it?"

"Yeah. He's got that rough tone—classic Berserker."

That's because of you lot! You're the reason I'm so high-strung!

"Here you go!"

"Keep the change."

I handed him extra coins, snatched the bag, and set off.

"Follow him..."

"Yeah..."

They probably thought they were being quiet, but I could hear every word.

I picked up the pace, weaving through the market crowds. Behind me, the Shield of the Sky members shadowed my every move.

I intentionally aimed for the heavy foot traffic of the main thoroughfare. Once I had blended into the flood of people, I activated my Hiding Arts. Ducking low and using Mindless Parry to slip past every obstacle, I moved through the gaps in the crowd like a draft through a crack.

"Dammit, where’d he go?"

"That bastard!"

The voices of the Shield of the Sky members drifted from somewhere far behind. It seemed I’d successfully given them the slip. I ducked into a back alley and made for the slums, keeping my hood pulled low. A long, weary sigh escaped my lips as I walked.

In the kitchen of the Lizard’s Tail, I stood at what had become my usual station, cleaning the shrimp.

I tried to keep my mind blank, but the faces of those Shield of the Sky members kept drifting back into my thoughts. Why did I have to be the one skulking around? I couldn't even eat out, let alone do a bit of grocery shopping.

Even if I knocked them around to shut them up, the Shield of the Sky was a massive organization. Reinforcements would arrive in no time and surround the place. If a powerhouse like Fiona showed up, I’d be in real trouble.

Damn it all... it was infuriating.

"Your heart is in turmoil. If you cook in that state, you'll get yourself killed."

The voice came from across the counter. It was Carla, the head cook and a martial artist. Just what kind of situation leads to a death sentence while cooking?

"I ran into those Shield of the Sky thugs at the market. They're actually carrying wanted posters of me around."

"I could just punch you until you're unrecognizable. That would solve the problem."

"Why do I have to be beaten to a pulp every time I go outside!?"

"It’s a joke."

Carla rested her elbows on the counter, watching me work. I took a breath, calmed myself, and resumed prepping the shrimp. I tossed the heads and shells into a pot and set it over the stove magic tool.

"Oh? Making soup?"

"Yeah. You get a deep, rich flavor out of the heads."

"I never knew that. I always just threw them away."

Carla continued her observation, looking genuinely impressed. I melted some butter in a frying pan, tossed in the shrimp, and began sautéing them with garlic, chili peppers, and lemon.

The translucent gray of the shrimp meat turned to a vibrant pink at the edges. Under the heat, they firmed up and curled into perfect crescents. The foaming butter coated them in a thin film, giving them a plump, glistening sheen.

The steam carried a mix of spice and savory aroma that filled the dining room. Carla’s nose twitched. The fragrant scent wafted out the door, acting like a magnet for passersby.

"My, what a lovely smell."

Right on cue, Sasha appeared. Unless we had a secret job to discuss, the black-haired woman visited the Lizard's Tail quite casually.

Sasha took the seat next to Carla. Now I had two difficult women lined up at my counter.

"Walt’s been moping because the Shield of the Sky was bullying him," Carla said, feeding Sasha information she didn't need. Sasha gave me a mischievous grin.

"Fufufu. You poor thing, 'Berserker' Walt-kun."

"How do you even know about that!?"

"I heard that an order is circulating among all the guilds around the capital: 'Do not hire the Berserker, Walt.'"

"I'm not a Berserker! Honestly..."

I pulled the pan off the stove magic tool and plated the butter-sautéed shrimp.

"I’ll have some of that."

"Me too."

I set a single large plate of the shrimp in front of Carla and Sasha. Both of them immediately began digging in with their forks.

"Spicy and good," Carla grunted.

"The umami of the shrimp and butter is perfectly balanced with the heat. The lemon gives it a refreshing finish that keeps you coming back for more. I could eat this forever," Sasha added, sounding like a true gourmet. Why was the head cook the one with the lazier vocabulary?

Once they’d finished, the two of them moved on to the shrimp soup and some bread, finally taking a moment to relax.

"Sasha, can't you use your influence to shut those Shield of the Sky idiots up? I’m starting to feel bad for the kid," Carla said, tossing out the request while nursing an ale the apprentice boy had brought over. Sasha’s mischievous smile returned.

"Silencing the Shield of the Sky is a bit of a tall order. Wouldn't it be better if you just left the Royal Capital for a while, Walt?"

Wait. I knew where this was going.

"Is this another quest?"

"Not a quest—a proposal. I’ve left a letter with the details with the proprietor, so make sure to get it from him later."

A proposal? What was that supposed to mean?

Racking my brain for an answer, I finally started cooking a portion for myself.