The establishment that recently opened at the southern base of Village Five was called Noodle Shop Buritoa. It served only a single type of pasta dish, a specialty known as ramen.
I was already familiar with the dish. I had eaten it once before in Shashato City, and it had been delicious. When I first visited this particular shop, I arrived with high expectations based on that memory, but the ramen served at Buritoa turned out to be an entirely different creature from the one in Shashato.
To be fair, the culinary style was identical: soup and pasta were served together in a deep bowl topped with various ingredients. However, the flavor was worlds apart. I wondered if it was even appropriate to call them by the same name. Personally, I had my doubts.
Unable to help myself, I voiced my concerns to an employee, who remained perfectly composed as they offered a polite explanation. This was, they assured me, undeniably ramen. The version served in Shashato City was flavored with soy sauce, whereas Noodle Shop Buritoa specialized in a salt-based broth. Just as there were countless varieties of pasta dishes with differing flavors, so it was with ramen.
That made sense. "Ramen" was the category of the cuisine, and the seasoning was simply a matter of preference. I suggested that if that were the case, perhaps they should explicitly call it "salt ramen." Whether they took my advice to heart or not, the name was changed to "Buritoa Ramen" the very next day. I felt a small spark of pride at that.
I stepped into the shop, seeking that very dish. The mini-pancakes I had enjoyed earlier had already settled; I was ready for more.
Buritoa Ramen came in two straightforward sizes: large and small. Since there were no other items on the menu, the food was served almost as soon as I sat down, without me even needing to order. The large size was intended for the Minotaur Race and other large-statured peoples, so a small portion was placed before me.
Although the shop provided forks, I opted for chopsticks. When I first encountered them in Shashato City, I had been skeptical that anyone could actually eat with a pair of sticks, but they proved remarkably convenient once I got the hang of them. They were, in fact, perfectly suited for eating ramen. I was certainly glad I had taken the time to learn.
The Buritoa Ramen was exquisite.
The sun was still high by the time I stepped out of the shop, and it was far too early to visit the new establishment on the west side. Since I had come all the way to the foothills, I decided to visit the local attraction currently taking Village Five by storm: the baseball stadium.
The stadium was a venue for a sport called "baseball." While the rules were somewhat labyrinthine, it was a joy to watch even for a novice. I took a seat in the stands and purchased a beer from a passing salesgirl.
I took a long, deep draught. It was chilled to the absolute limit—a true blessing in the summer heat. The village must have employed a small army of mages capable of ice magic just to keep the beverages cold. Such luxury. Had I not just finished my ramen, I likely would have ordered one of the bread rolls stuffed with pork sausage as well.
I debated it for a moment. Perhaps just one wouldn't hurt? No, I decided against it.
The game was in the bottom of the fourth inning. The score was a dead heat at three to three. Just then, the defending team—the Tiger Demon King’s Army—called for a pitching change.
It seemed their previous pitcher had been a rookie. The substitute’s throws were of a completely different caliber. The "thwack" of the ball hitting the catcher's mitt resonated throughout the stands. Naturally, the opposing batters swung through nothing but air. The side retired in the blink of an eye.
In the top of the fifth, the momentum shifted visibly. The Tiger Demon King’s Army began hitting with a refreshing ferocity. Their opponents, the Village Five Carpenters, didn't simply roll over, however; they put on a spectacular defensive display. Whether it was a great hit or a clever play in the field, I made sure to applaud. That was the essence of watching baseball.
"Miss! Another beer, please!"
The match eventually ended in a victory for the Tiger Demon King’s Army. Afterward, there was an opportunity for the fans to shake hands with the players, so I joined the queue. I managed to shake hands with the female player who had hit a home run as a pinch-hitter. I wished her the best of luck in her future games.
The manager looked a bit neglected, so I made sure to shake his hand as well. I told him that his aggressive use of pinch-hitters in the eighth inning had been thrilling and that one must never let up, even when in the lead. He gave me a friendly, boisterous pat on the shoulder.
Groundskeepers quickly moved to maintain the field as soon as the players left, preparing for a match between two different teams. I could have stayed, but I decided to move on. I needed to work up a proper appetite before the evening.
I headed to the facility located right next to the stadium. It was roughly four times the size of the baseball grounds and was enclosed by a high wall. Inside the perimeter, buildings were clustered together so densely that it looked like a miniature city.
No one actually lived in these buildings, however. The "town" existed solely as a training ground for the Village Five Security Team. Normally, such specialized urban combat training was unheard of; most forces simply made do with whatever circumstances arose or commandeered actual city streets. Village Five, however, had built an entire fake town just for practice. The scale of their thinking—and their economic power—was staggering.
The facility had two entrances. One led to the observation decks, but I took the other, heading straight into the field. After a short walk, I reached a staging area where several other young people were already waiting. Some of them didn't look like fighters in the slightest, which was to be expected. While the site was used for security training, it wasn't occupied twenty-four hours a day. When it was vacant, it was opened to the public for various games and events.
Some of the games I was familiar with included:
The Death God Game: A game of tag held within the city limits where participants had to evade "Death Gods." Survival for a set duration meant victory, and even those who were caught received prizes based on how long they lasted. The "Death Gods" were incredibly fast; once they spotted you, escape was nearly impossible. It was fascinating to watch the different strategies, from those who hid in silence to those who never stopped running.
Treasure Hunt: Participants searched for hidden chests within a time limit. Since the prizes varied wildly depending on the chest found, it had a strong element of luck. There were even sessions specifically for children. In the adult-only versions, the "town" and the chests were often rigged with non-lethal traps, adding a layer of danger.
Thief Spy: The opposite of the Death God Game. All participants worked together to hunt down designated "thieves" who used every trick in the book—from rooftop parkour to clever disguises—to escape. While it sounded easy given the numbers, the thieves had "Spies" hidden among the players to sow confusion and sabotage the hunt. Capturing a thief earned a prize for everyone, but identifying and catching a Spy yielded a significant individual reward.
Scramble: Participants split into two teams to protect their own "treasure" while trying to seize the opponent's. Since only weapons were prohibited, injuries were common, yet it remained immensely popular. It was even used as a way for residents to settle local disputes.
There were others, like the mystery-solving Master Deduction or the free-for-all Last One Standing. Participation was generally free, so I had joined in several times. The Death God Game had been truly harrowing—my heart couldn't take that too often.
Today’s event was called "Suspicious Man." The goal was to correctly count how many "suspicious men" were roaming the field. The targets were easily identifiable by their "Suspicious Man Cloaks," but since they were constantly on the move, it was easy to lose track or double-count if you didn't pay attention to their individual heights or gaits.
It was a challenging game, but since it required constant movement for the entire duration, it was the perfect way to sharpen my appetite. I had seen the notice on the inn’s bulletin board this morning and made sure to mark it down.
After a wait, the previous group returned. A few were grinning, while many others looked quite frustrated. Since I was paying with my time, I hoped to end the day with a smile.
Currently, however, I suspect my face is a mask of frustration.
There were seven suspicious men in the field. I had answered eight. I had been tripped up by a trap: one of the men had changed his disguise halfway through the round. It felt like foul play, but given that disguise kits were scattered all over the field, I really should have anticipated it. Stung by the loss, I headed back to the staging area to try one more time.
As an aside, the man playing the disguised "suspicious man" turned out to be the Silver Knight. I wondered if he was skipping his training, but it turned out that participating in these public events was considered part of a guard's official duties.
There was a clever reason why these events were free of charge. It wasn't exactly a secret, but many of the buildings in the training ground bore signs advertising shops found elsewhere in Village Five. During the games, players would shout things like, "There’s a suspicious man behind the Kuro and Yuki building!" or "That guy in front of Cafe Blue isn't wearing a cloak! He's a decoy!"
By using the shop names as landmarks, the players naturally memorized them. Furthermore, the majority of the prizes were vouchers for those very shops. I actually had a voucher in my pocket right now—though it was for a pot. It was supposed to be a high-quality piece forged by a Dwarf, but since carrying a heavy pot around would be a nuisance, I decided to wait until I was ready to return to the Kaizan Kingdom before claiming it.
The sun had finally begun to dip toward the horizon. It was time to head to the west side.
The shop there was called Sake & Meat Niz, a place specializing in alcohol and yakiniku. The atmosphere was unique, likely influenced by the cultures of the eastern Demon Kingdom. The woman who appeared to be the manager was even dressed in traditional Eastern attire. The evening rush hadn't quite started, so I was seated without delay. My timing was perfect.
This shop had a strict rule: you could not order alcohol without also ordering food. The meal was essentially mandatory. Each table was equipped with a brazier and a wire grill; you cooked the meat yourself and dipped it in a special sauce. That sauce was nothing short of a masterpiece. It was the kind of flavor that lingered in the mind, calling you back again and again. It had me completely captivated.
The menu featured beef, pork, lamb, and chicken. While you could choose the type of animal, you couldn't specify the cut of meat, so you simply ordered by quantity.
"Four servings of beef, please."
A single serving was enough for a child; for a normal adult, two or three servings was the standard. I, however, was having four. The meat came with a side of vegetables as part of the set.
"And to drink... a beer."
I had already had a few earlier in the day, but I didn't care. Beer enjoyed in the open air was a different beast than beer served within the four walls of a shop. Or so I told myself.
As it happened, the person who took my order was none other than my master, the Iron Knight. He spent his days grueling away in security training and his nights working here. The Eastern clothing actually suited him surprisingly well.
Apparently, after recognizing Lady Pirika as a true Sword Saint, he had swallowed his pride and begged her to train him. Although the Kaizan Kingdom provided for our stay, he refused to use those funds for what he considered a personal pursuit. Instead, he was working to earn his own keep. It was behavior I never would have expected from him back home, but it was deeply admirable.
I, on the other hand, come from a fairly wealthy family and have no such financial concerns. I’ve offered to lend him money several times, but he is uncharacteristically stubborn about debt and always refuses. I wonder if he had some sort of trauma involving money in his past. Regardless, it is one of my master's few genuine virtues, so I don't press the issue. I am content to support him from the sidelines.
"Excuse me! I'd like an extra serving of pork! And another beer, please!"