He smiled, tapping the table again.
“…You’re hopeless, Mardol.”
For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to be upset.
Events like this were common in .
Moments where a companion would invite the protagonist to a meal, showing a glimpse of their true feelings.
Mardol’s calm and considerate tone, as if he understood people’s emotions, was a classic event trigger.
“…Alright.”
I couldn’t say no.
There was something nostalgic about the moment, as if I was seeing someone I missed dearly.
So that’s why he asked me if I liked meat yesterday.
***
“Three servings of Minotaur Tomahawk Steak.”
“How would you like it cooked, sir?”
“…Make it Masterpiece-grade.”
“Understood! Three servings of Minotaur Tomahawk, Masterpiece-grade!”
The dwarf server responded with an energetic shout, his beard bobbing up and down.
‘Masterpiece? Not medium, not rare, but… Masterpiece? Is he ordering by game item ranks now?’
A Masterpiece-grade dish, huh?
That thought gave me pause, but Mardol calmly nodded to himself as if confident in his decision.
“It’ll be delicious. Definitely.”
His eyes were calm yet filled with certainty, like a man who had already tasted victory.
Moments later, a loud clanging of pans and cooking sounds came from the large kitchen in the center of the restaurant.
It was an open kitchen concept, letting the customers see the clean, orderly kitchen where dwarves worked their culinary magic.
“Alright, lads! We’ve got a Masterpiece-grade order!”
“Yes, Chef!”
Suddenly, three dwarves—one red, one orange, and one yellow—emerged from the back, moving with the precision of a military squad.
“Our pride as dwarves is in every Masterpiece we make!”
Sizzle—!
The sound of oil hitting the iron griddle echoed as they tossed a massive chunk of meat—still attached to a large bone—onto the grill.
At the same time, another dwarf chopped vegetables for garnishes with inhuman speed and precision.
“Forging iron and handling fire isn’t just for anvils and hammers, boys!”
The dwarves’ eyes burned like embers as they moved with perfect synchronization. Their bearded faces were all smiles, and their pride as craftsmen radiated from them.
“Let us honor the eternal mountain of the land of fire!”
Ah, that had to be a reference to one of the Ten Greats, the legendary leaders of the world.
If I remembered correctly, one of the Ten Greats was a dwarf chieftain known for his mastery of flames and for forging legendary weapons.
“…It’s pretty amazing, huh?”
“Ah, yeah. I’ve never been to a dwarf restaurant before.”
Since I spent most of my time on the Saintess route, I hadn’t raised my fame high enough to visit places like this.
To me, dwarves had always been weirdos who just crafted weapons or repaired equipment.
But to think they also cooked…
“I’m glad I brought you here, then.”
Mardol smiled at me, clearly pleased.
“Your order is ready! Enjoy your meal!”
The chef returned, carrying an enormous plate of food.
It was so large that it completely covered the dwarf’s upper body as he walked.
How did they cook it so fast? Magic, probably.
“Please enjoy it while it’s hot!”
“Minotaur Tomahawk Steak,” Mardol had called it.
It was a massive slab of meat, still attached to the bone, with a rich, golden-brown sear on its surface.
‘This… this looks like the perfect RPG meal.’
The shine of the meat, the crisp sear, and the light glaze of sauce made me swallow my saliva.
“…What’s wrong, Licht?”
“Isn’t this… really expensive?”
This had to cost a fortune. It even had “Masterpiece” in its name.
“I’ll pay.”
He said it so casually, like it was nothing.
‘A prince buying me food? This feels familiar.’
In , there was a scene where the Crown Prince flaunted his wealth and bought everything in sight.
Now, memories of his overflowing wealth and resources from that game came flooding back.
“Then, I’ll eat without holding back, Mardol.”
I grabbed one of the massive tomahawks with both hands, ready to tear into it.
“Ah, you both have helmets! Let me cut it up for you!”
The dwarf chef noticed us struggling with our faceplates and swiftly pulled out a knife.
“Oh, thank you.”
I sighed, lifting my helmet’s faceplate just enough to reveal my mouth.
The dwarf chef expertly cut the steak into manageable pieces, pushing them toward me and Mardol.
“…Now I can really eat.”
“Eat as much as you want.”
I stabbed one of the cuts with my fork and tossed it into my mouth.
“…Oh.”
The moment I bit into it, the juices burst like a flood.
The savory richness of beef filled my mouth.
The light sear and buttery finish made the flavor even more satisfying, with no unpleasant aftertaste.
‘This isn’t just “good.” It’s better than most premium steaks I’ve had… It’s next-level.’
The meat was tender and flavorful, with just the right amount of fat for that melt-in-your-mouth texture.
“Is it good?”
“Yeah, it’s delicious.”
I’d worried about the “Minotaur” part, but it was easily one of the best steaks I’d ever eaten.
Especially the part near the bone—it was so flavorful that I felt like my whole life had been a mistake until now.
“It’s a wonderful lunch. Thank you, Mardol.”
“Heh. You really do love meat.”
I was so focused on eating that I forgot to say anything.
When I finally glanced up, I saw Mardol’s plate was already empty.
His appetite was as ridiculous as ever.
“…You ordered three servings. Can you really finish it all, Mardol?”
“Yes, Licht.”
Two of the three servings had been placed on his side of the table.
“You’re a big eater.”
“…That’s rude, Licht.”
He continued eating while his face remained hidden behind his glass helmet, just like me.
‘I feel like we’re oddly similar.’
His first plate was empty, and he was already working on his second.
“I’m done.”
I had eaten every last bit of meat around the bone, but I couldn’t handle the remaining lean meat cuts.
“You done with that?”
“Yeah, I’m too full. Sorry.”
“That’s the tastiest part… such a waste.”
“If you want it, you can have it.”
I gestured to my untouched portion.
“…Really?”
“Of course.”
I figured he’d go for the lean meat.
But—
Crunch. Crunch.
“Huh? Mardol?! What are you eating?!”
I froze as I watched Mardol biting directly into the bone I had left behind.
He wasn’t eating the meat.
He was eating the bone itself.
The crunching sounds echoed in my ears.
‘He’s a wolf beastman… I forgot.’
I watched in horror as he chewed through the bone like a candy stick.
His sharp teeth pulverized it with ease.
I thought about saying something, but I knew better.
The Imperial Guard would probably show up with swords pointed at my throat if I criticized their prince for this.
“Nothing… enjoy your meal.”
“Thanks.”
He kept gnawing on the bone, completely at ease.
At that moment, I vowed to never say a word about it.
This wasn’t some indirect kiss scenario.
It was just a species difference.
That’s right.
Just a species difference.
If the Saintess ever found out, she’d definitely say I was “cheating” on her.