Chapter 4.2

The smell, taste, and texture—enhanced by Arad’s max-level cooking skill—created a perfect harmony in their mouths.

Without this stew, they might never have experienced such a taste in their lifetime.

“…”

“…”

Sometimes, the most profound emotions leave you speechless.

Rather than waste time talking, the diners focused solely on savoring every bite, their spoons moving tirelessly.

Sniffle, sniffle.

Tears of joy glistened in the eyes of a few.

Some diners at Jack’s Inn couldn’t hold back their tears as they ate the stew, overwhelmed by the taste. Among them was Ronny, tears streaming down his face as he savored each bite.

—

The news of Jack’s Inn and its Arad Stew spread through Haven like wildfire.

“Praise the ancestors! For just 2 coppers, we can taste something that feels like a noble’s feast with fancy spices!”

“When I worked as a mercenary for the Empire, I had the chance to taste spiced food, but this Arad Stew is leagues better!”

“They say if you don’t line up before dawn, you can’t get any.”

“Once you’ve tasted Arad Stew, everything else tastes bland and revolting!”

Rumors swirled, drawing all adventurers, mercenaries, merchants, and citizens of Haven to Jack’s Inn.

And where crowds gather, so too does trouble.

—

“I was here first!”

“Get in line! Cutting in front of me? May our ancestors curse you!”

“You expect me, an Imperial adventurer, to line up with E- and F-rank riffraff? And share a table with them?!”

The first problem arose with the line and seating arrangements.

“Premium seating and a royal queue. Charge five times the price for it,” I suggested, solving the issue effortlessly.

But that wasn’t the only challenge.

“Arad! There are too many customers! Our inn can’t handle them all! If this keeps up, even the guards will start complaining,” Jack exclaimed, overwhelmed.

The demand for Arad Salt, the secret to the stew, was far beyond what Jack’s modest inn could manage.

“Arad, no offense, but why not sell the recipe to nearby establishments for a fee? That way, we can distribute the load,” Jack cautiously proposed.

“Someday, maybe. But not now,” I replied, shaking my head.

“When, exactly, would that be?” Jack pressed.

“Originally, I planned to start selling Arad Salt by spring,” I explained.

The plan had been to maximize profits from Arad Stew first and then sell the salt separately.

However, selling the recipe would inevitably reveal its ingredients and production methods.

With no patents or copyrights in this world, keeping it secret for as long as possible was my best strategy.

“Spring?! By the ancestors, that’s too far away! I’m already at my limit here,” Jack groaned.

Despite hiring three additional workers, the relentless pace left him sore and exhausted, even with my healing assistance.

His son, Tom, though earning more than most kids his age, seemed oblivious to the strain.

“I understand your situation, Jack.”

“Then help me find a solution!”

“Here’s what we’ll do,” I said with a sly grin.

—

The next day, a new sign appeared outside Jack’s Inn:

-Takeout Service!-

-Bring your own bowl and get stew for just 1 copper!-

The sign featured a drawing of a person holding a bowl and the 1-copper price, making it clear even to the illiterate.

“What?! The same delicious stew at half the price? Praise the ancestors!”

“Get a bowl! We need a bowl!”

Soon, every copper in Haven was flowing into Jack’s Inn.

The takeout option alleviated the crowding issue. But as they say, success brings its own problems.

Human nature being what it is, jealousy and malice soon followed, especially when a once-obscure inn was now thriving.

—

“Jack’s Inn is doing well, huh?”

“Means they’re swimming in money.”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

With money and people come leeches.

Every scumbag in Haven began swarming Jack’s Inn.

“We’ll protect you—for half your profits!”

“We’re the better choice. We’ll only take 1 silver a day for protection. You sell over a hundred bowls of that 2-copper stew daily, right?”

“If you don’t pay, your business will suffer. We’ll crash your inn every day.”

“Hey! I found a rock in my stew! I broke a tooth! How are you going to compensate me?!”

From extortion to fake complaints, troublemakers harassed Jack’s Inn.

Though Jack had once been a formidable mercenary, age and injury left him struggling to fend off these pests.

“Hand over all your money!” shouted a robber one night after closing.

“You think you can mess with me? I’ll kill you, you bastard!”

“Have you scum grown bold? Let’s teach them a lesson!”

“Beat them up! I want my Arad Stew tomorrow!”

Luckily, the North-born adventurers and mercenaries staying at the inn dealt with the troublemakers.

But relying on them every time wasn’t sustainable.

“Do we need to hire guards?” Jack sighed.

“Why waste money on guards?” I countered, shaking my head.

“But Arad, if this keeps up, something serious could happen.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan,” I assured him with confidence.

—

The next day, another new sign appeared outside Jack’s Inn.

This time, it featured an image of stew being served to guards and officials, accompanied by the text:

-Free Arad Stew for guards and officials working tirelessly for Haven!-

-No need to queue. Priority service during shifts or duty hours.-

Despite the high illiteracy rate, news of free food spread quickly and accurately throughout Haven.