Chapter 46, One Dream Fulfilled

Translator: Barnnn

 

The moment they stepped out of the Dungeon, the warmth of the sun washed over them. Though the Dungeon’s interior was well-lit, the daylight brought with it an undeniable sense of relief.

It was still early afternoon, and only a handful of adventurers lingered near the Dungeon’s entrance. Ize and Hal crossed the wide plaza, retracing the steps they’d taken that morning, and approached the exit gate to complete the formalities of leaving.

 

“Still too early for dinner,” Hal said, glancing at the sun’s position. “What do you think, Ize? Should we celebrate our first Dungeon expedition?”

“I’d love to! And naturally, the place to go is–”

“Hey, you two!” A small voice interrupted Ize’s mid-sentence.

 

The pair turned to see a boy, no older than six, standing a few paces behind them.

 

“…Do we know him?” Hal asked, frowning.

“I don’t think so,” Ize murmured.

 

Hal cautiously stepped in front of Ize, shielding her from the boy’s view as he addressed him.

 

“You need something, kid?”

“Um… my sister told me to say she’s sorry.”

“Your sister?” Hal’s brows knitted further. “Who?”

“The one who… pushed him down the guild stairs… the other day.” The boy pointed vaguely in Ize’s direction.

 

Hal’s face darkened at the explanation, his irritation bubbling to the surface.

 

“And why are you the one apologizing?”

“Because she told me to come say sorry,” the boy replied matter-of-factly.

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I’m asking WHY — your sister’s the one at fault, not you.”

The boy tilted his head, clearly baffled by the question. “I’m not… good enough…?”

 

His innocent confusion softened Hal’s anger, though only slightly. He exhaled sharply.

 

“Look, kid, this isn’t on you. Go back and tell her we wouldn’t accept her apology even if she came herself.”

“I’m… really sor–”

“C’mon, Ize,” Hal said, cutting the boy off.

“…Yeah.”

 

Ize hesitated but followed, sparing the child a brief glance.

If the sister truly wanted to apologize, sending her little brother in her place was the worst way to show it. Even a child should understand the importance of taking responsibility for their actions.

Still, the boy didn’t deserve her frustration. As she passed him, she placed a gentle hand on his head, offering what little consolation she could.

 

◆

 

Catching up to Hal, Ize nearly collided with him when he stopped suddenly.

 

“Ugh, what a buzzkill,” he grumbled.

“Then let’s make this celebration a mix of joy AND stress relief,” Ize suggested, her tone brightening.

Hal looked over at her, his grin returning. “Good thinking, Ize. My instincts tell me we should head this way.”

“Funny coincidence — mine are saying the same thing, Captain.”

“Then onward!”

“Right behind you!”

 

They let the enticing aroma of sizzling food guide them, their playful banter lifting the tension as they turned onto a bustling street.

Smoke curled from food stalls, mingling with the lively chatter of patrons.

 

“Whoa, it’s all street food!” Hal said, his eyes lighting up.

“Finally! The legendary, authentic grilled Mystic Beast skewers!” Ize added dramatically.

“Look, that stall has Horned Rabbit, and the one next to it has Green Snake…”

“There’s Loco-Deer, Red Python… Oh! Hal, they’ve got Boar meat over there!”

“Want me to Appraise it for you?” Hal offered with a teasing smirk.

“Ugh, no,” Ize replied, wrinkling her nose. “I’d rather just taste it myself.”

“Fair enough. But after that, you’ve got to try my pick.”

“Deal! I can’t wait.”

 

After scanning the handwritten menu tacked to the stall, Ize jabbed a finger at one of the listed skewers and placed her order.

The vendor, a burly man who looked every bit the retired adventurer, handed over two skewers with a grunt. Ize passed one to Hal before sinking her teeth eagerly into the other.

 

“Hmm,” she groaned, chewing thoughtfully. “I’d say the flavor is… significantly elevated by the emotional spice of finally eating the legendary grilled Mystic Beast meat.”

“Just be honest, bro.”

“It’s… underwhelming. They should’ve used garlic or ginger to mask the smell. Or marinated it — anything to tenderize the texture.”

“Agreed,” Hal said after a bite of his own. “Even with the same meat, Miss Etta could’ve turned this into something way better.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned her cooking, I feel like heading straight back to the inn.”

“Not before you try my pick.”

“Of course I will!”

 

With a grin that spelled mischief, Hal grabbed Ize’s hand and led her deeper into the maze of food stalls.

Ize followed, curiosity piqued, wondering what Hal’s Appraisal skill had singled out in this chaotic street market. They stopped at a modest stall near the far edge, its hand-painted sign cheap and unevenly lettered.

 

“Milk Toad…?” she read, squinting.

“Yup. Toad.”

“Hal… are you serious?”

“Trust me. And my Appraisal.”

Ize hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. I trust you.”

“No need to look like you’re facing a firing squad. Hey, ma’am! Two of your finest skewers!”

“Every skewer here’s the finest,” the vendor shot back with a wink. “Hang tight, dears.”

 

The woman worked quickly, folding two gelatinous, semi-transparent slabs — roughly the size of a compress — over and over until they clung tightly to the skewers. The finished product resembled giant strands of beef tendon.

Ize watched closely, heart caught between fascination and dread, as the vendor placed the skewers on the grill.

The moment the meat hit the grate, it sizzled violently, releasing a plume of thick, savory smoke. The slimy, plaster-like surface began to shrink, curling as the heat worked its magic. The once-flat slabs puffed up into a round, plump shape, their translucent sheen giving way to a soft, milky white exterior.

 

“Wait… the plaster turned into beef tendon and then… kiritampo?”

Hal chuckled. “What kind of description is that?”

“But did you see THAT?” Ize asked, her voice rising.

“Of course I did. It was incredible how much it shrank so fast.”

“Huh!? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well… your surprised face was entertaining enough for me.”

“Ugh, come on!”

“All right, kids,” the vendor called, her tone amused. “They’re ready. Careful — they’re hot.”

“Thank you very much,” Hal said, dropping a few coins into her palm as Ize carefully took the skewers, one in each hand.

 

The meat still sizzled faintly, releasing a rich, savory aroma that made her stomach growl.

 

“Let’s sit over there and try these,” Hal suggested, nodding toward a nearby bench.

“Got it.”

 

Ize followed, her focus fixed on the skewers as if they held some hidden secret.

 

“Here you go,” she said, handing one to Hal as they sat down.

“Thanks.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“”Here goes nothing!””

 

In unison, they took a bite.

The moment the meat hit her tongue, Ize’s eyes widened. A rich, creamy flavor exploded in her mouth, the texture both chewy and meltingly tender. It was unlike anything she’d tasted — somewhere between intensely flavorful cheese and slow-cooked meat.

The spiral-folded meat offered a delightful contrast: the creamy exterior occasionally gave way to a subtle crunch, like the texture of cartilage in a well-made kinpira. It wasn’t chicken, nor offal, nor a block of cheese — yet somehow it captured the best elements of all three.

Propelled by the heat and addictiveness of the flavor, Ize devoured her skewer in no time.

 

“Phew… That was amazing.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

 

They exhaled in unison, their breaths mingling as faint white clouds in the cooling afternoon air.

 

“This is definitely A-rank quality,” Ize declared.

“Without a doubt,” Hal agreed.

“But it’s something you shouldn’t eat every day.”

“True. Even the finest beef gets old if you have it daily.”

“Actually… I don’t think I’d ever get tired of it, but eating it all the time would ruin my appreciation for everything else.”

“Fair point.”

“Toads…” she concluded, glancing back toward the stall with a mix of admiration and exasperation, “…are not to be underestimated.”

 

Hal chuckled at her unexpectedly intense declaration.

It had been a good way to lift Ize’s spirits, Hal thought, especially after the encounter with the boy earlier. Yet the memory nagged at him, souring his mood.

Even he could admit his reaction had been too harsh. The boy, likely forced to apologize by his sister, had done nothing wrong. Anyone would have seen that.

Still, Hal couldn’t bring himself to forgive the situation — or the sister. She’d sought to harm Ize. That was the core of it. Hal’s duty wasn’t to extend goodwill or indulge half-hearted gestures of atonement; it was to protect Ize.

An apology offered by proxy only deepened his frustration, and as the memory burned anew, his grip on the skewer tightened, the wood creaking under the pressure.

Sensing something, or perhaps oblivious to it entirely, Ize spoke up.

 

“Hal.”

“Hm?”

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

 

Her voice pulled him back to the present.

 

“Well,” he began, “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“We’ve been pretty active lately, so we could spend the day doing absolutely nothing.”

“Hmm…”

“Or,” he continued, grinning, “we could visit the Guild Archive.”

“Ooh!”

“Take in some sightseeing before the snow sets in.”

“Nice!”

“Or go café-hopping for cheap, delicious desserts Miss Etta recommended.”

“Ohh!”

“Or… do everything except the first one.”

“Ugh, that’s way too greedy.”

 

Hal laughed and ruffled Ize’s hair as she deliberated, then suggested they head back to the inn and decide after a bath.

 

“A nice soak will clear our heads,” he added.

“Just hearing that makes me feel like I’m about to fall asleep right here.”

“And that’s perfectly fine.”

“Skipping one of Miss Etta’s meals is a crime I won’t commit! Wait — are you tempting me so that you get to eat MY share!? Hal, have you struck a deal with a Devil?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on, drama queen.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

 

Their bodies, worn from six hours of constant activity, were beginning to feel the strain.

Before the bench became too comfortable to leave, they set off toward the inn.

 

“Oh, right,” Ize said as they walked. “What should we do with today’s loot?”

“Ah, I almost forgot. It probably won’t fetch much, but we can trade it in at the Guild tomorrow.”

“Sounds good — if it’s on the way.”

“Definitely. We’ll figure out the most efficient route. Oh, and Fieda might’ve sent word, too.”

“The last message we got from him was from… six days ago, right? He’s probably crossed the border by now.”

“Guild visit it is, then.”

“Roger that.”

 

As they strolled through the lively streets, Hal chatted about the cafés Etta had recommended.

Ize couldn’t help but shiver at the ominous names: Arachne’s Blanket, Mandragora’s Nap, and others like them. Were these idioms in this world? She couldn’t be sure, but the thought of falling asleep in one of those places conjured vivid — and unsettling — images.

Hal, oblivious to her growing discomfort, continued his enthusiastic descriptions. Ize, meanwhile, shuddered inwardly, her imagination running wild with each passing name.

 

◆

 

Later that evening at the inn, when Ize and Hal casually mentioned they’d eaten Milk Toad skewers, the dining hall erupted in uproarious cries of “Heroes!”

The unexpected outburst made Ize jump in her seat, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

It seemed the dish’s ominous name and unappealing appearance kept most people far away from it.

 

[So that’s why the stall was so far out of the way,] Hal realized.

 

Though undeniably addictive — provided one worked up the courage to try it in the first place — it wasn’t exactly the sort of delicacy to recommend lightly. The thought of pushing it on anyone who feared its reputation felt almost cruel.

When someone dared to ask what it tasted like, Hal and Ize exchanged a knowing glance and replied, “You’ll know when you try it.”

 

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