Klaus had left for Waterhorn three days ago.
Aris was now inside the counter,
that is, crouched in the narrow space between the kitchen and the hall.
Knock, knock, knock.
Another one.
Aris lowered herself even further.
She heard footsteps.
The sound stopped briefly in front of the door.
They must be checking the sign.
Closed
Please, please, please.
Silence flowed for a moment.
Then the footsteps grew distant again.
Aris let out a long breath.
That was already the third time today.
Three came yesterday too.
And two the day before.
Just as Klaus had said,
customers were coming every day.
How long had it even been since the article ran in the paper?
Aris returned to the inside of the counter and waited.
Had about an hour passed?
Knock, knock, knock.
Again.
This time there were two sets of footsteps.
They stopped in front of the door.
A silence, as though they were checking the sign.
But this time, the footsteps did not move away.
“It says they’re closed? What the hell. Do you know how hard it was to get all the way here?”
“Hey! Is anyone inside? What kind of place does this?”
Bang, bang, bang.
The sound of rough pounding on the door.
Aris held her breath.
“Guess no one’s there.”
“Ugh, what the hell? Should we file a complaint with the Early Bird newspaper? Why would they sit there and introduce a place like this?”
Aris made no sound at all.
A short while later, the two sets of footsteps slowly receded.
Aris sank down where she was.
“……Manager, please come back sooooon…….”
* * *
At the same time, Waterhorn Harbor.
Boris’s ship was far larger than I had expected.
A three-masted wooden fishing vessel.
To head out into the open sea, a ship of this size was essential.
On the deck were piles of enormous nets, harpoons,
and ropes, all neatly stacked.
There were twelve crewmen, including Boris.
“You’re really coming with us?”
“Yeah.”
Boris asked with a puzzled look, and I answered without hesitation.
On the day I had shared a hearty drink with Boris at the tavern,
I ate the mixed-fish stew said to be the food of sailors, and it made me want to board a ship.
So I asked Boris when he was heading out to sea again,
and that was today.
“Without using magic?”
“That’s right.”
Boris raised an eyebrow.
“Klaus, aren’t you taking the sea too lightly?”
“I think you can only truly taste a sailor’s food by becoming a sailor yourself.”
“Well, I don’t mind, but don’t overdo it and get hurt.”
“I said I understand.”
Boris looked down at me for a moment,
then finally lifted one corner of his mouth.
“……Fine. Go ahead and suffer your ass off.”
The ship left the harbor at early dawn.
As the land grew distant, the waves changed.
They were no longer the gentle waves near the harbor.
They were large waves that seemed to push up from beneath the ship,
waves with real weight to them.
I stood on the deck and looked out at the horizon.
The reason I had imposed the penalty on myself of not using magic
was not because I looked down on the sea, but rather because I respected it.
The height of the waves.
The scent of the salty wind.
The sensation of the deck swaying beneath my feet.
I was resolved to receive all of it fully,
with this body alone, without the shortcut called magic.
I thought even this was necessary to experience the true taste of a sailor.
“Klaus! You can’t stand there, come grab the net!”
By the time we had come so far out that land was almost no longer visible,
Boris shouted at me as I stood on the deck.
The work was simple.
But it was not easy.
Cast the net.
Wait.
Haul it up.
We repeated those three steps.
The weight when the net rose above the water was tremendous.
I pulled on the rope together with the sailors,
and my palms quickly grew hot, as if they had been pressed against fire.
I would not use magic.
I gritted my teeth and pulled.
Beside me, the arm muscles of the sailors hauling up the net together writhed.
Boris was pulling alone on a net that took two or three sailors clinging to it to haul up.
Even though every sailor aboard this ship had a sturdy build,
Boris’s monstrous strength stood out clearly even among them.
I also helped the sailors haul up the net with all my strength,
but I could not tell whether my strength was actually helping or simply getting in the way.
What was certain
was that my resolve not to use magic myself wavered every single moment.
That was how dizzyingly difficult ship work was.
Inside the net we had pulled up, silver fish flapped wildly.
Even in the midst of that, Boris stood at the edge of the deck holding a huge harpoon.
His eyes, looking down beneath the surface, were searching for something.
“Look there.”
Boris spoke briefly.
Beneath the surface, a black, enormous shadow moved.
It looked to be half the size of the ship.
Was it a kind of monster that appeared in the distant sea?
If a ship were attacked by something like that, everyone would become fish food.
But Boris did not panic.
A huge harpoon, almost like an iron stake, flew.
Boom—!!!
The surface of the water burst upward.
The rope connected to the harpoon was pulled taut.
Boris gripped that rope with both hands and held firm.
The muscles of his arms split sharply, as if sculpted.
His feet slid across the deck.
The sailors rushed in and clung to the rope.
I grabbed it as well.
Slowly, an enormous body rose above the surface.
A deep bluish gray.
Its body was flat,
and things like thorns protruded from both sides.
As expected, it was a fish I had never seen at the fish market.
“This one is…….”
“It’s one of the monster fish species that live in the deep sea.”
Boris wiped away his sweat as he spoke.
“Can it be eaten?”
“This one can’t. Its flesh is tougher than most meat.”
“Then why bother catching it?”
“Look at the size of this thing. If you leave a monster like this alone, it’ll put other ships in danger too, and one of these bastards will devour all the perfectly good fish. That’s why, whenever you see one, you have to catch it and kill it.”
I nodded at Boris’s explanation.
The waves were growing rougher little by little.
* * *
Once the work had been wrapped up to a certain extent,
the sailors gathered on one side of the deck and began to rest.
The ship was still far out at sea.
Apparently, we would eat first, then return to land.
I sank down with them.
Blisters had formed on my palms.
My back ached.
For some reason, my stomach was churning too.
Boris plopped down beside me and lightly thumped my back.
“Hey, Klaus. You’re a man after all.”
“Of course I’m a man. What, did you think I was a woman?”
“I thought all those mage types had no guts.”
I did not answer.
The truth was, I felt like I was dying.
Boris burst out laughing.
One of the sailors took out a small brazier.
Then he set a large, badly dented pot on top of it.
It was the lunchtime I had been waiting for.
All sorts of miscellaneous fish that had come up in today’s net,
ones too badly damaged to be in good condition,
small ones that were awkward to sell…….
The sailors began putting them into the pot with practiced hands.
I watched the process closely from the beginning.
The innards went in as well.
They did not remove the bones either.
They threw in a large handful of salt,
then recklessly stuffed in a herb similar to crown daisy until it looked like it would overflow the pot.
As the pot began to boil, the smell rose.
It was similar to the mixed-fish stew I had smelled at the tavern, but somehow different.
Had it been boiled over a strong fire for about thirty minutes?
One sailor brought over as many dented bowls as there were people and ladled out the mixed-fish stew.
Unlike when I ate it on land,
the fish had not fully dissolved into the broth.
On a ship, people were hungry, so the boiling time must be that much shorter.
The longer something like this was boiled, the deeper the stock drawn from the bones became,
but the hunger that came after hard labor did not allow time to wait for that.
I took the dented bowl,
and scooped up a spoonful of the mixed-fish stew.
It was similar to what I had eaten at the tavern, but different.
Perhaps because the boiling time was shorter, the broth was a little thinner.
The fish flesh was also less broken down.
I took a sip.
It was salty, and fishy.
The scent of the herb similar to crown daisy suppressed the fishiness a little.
Objectively speaking,
it was an unrefined flavor.
It still lacked the depth drawn from the bones,
and the unpleasant odors had not been completely eliminated.
And yet—
I took another sip.
The moment the saltiness spread over my tongue,
I felt as though strength was strangely returning to my entire body.
The sensation of the rope being pulled taut still lingered in my palms.
My back ached,
and my stomach was still slightly unsettled.
In that state, the salty, hot broth I drank
filled my body from the stomach outward, one place at a time.
I could not call it a good flavor.
But it was a special flavor.
I ate a piece of fish.
It was dry, and the seasoning had only seeped into the outside.
Even so, the more I chewed, the more a savory taste rose up.
I looked down at the bowl for a moment.
A body that had endured half a day on the deck.
The blisters on my palms.
My aching back.
And the swaying ship upon the distant sea.
All of it had come together
to create the flavor now inside this bowl.
I savored it slowly.
The taste of food did not come only from ingredients and recipes.
When, where, and in what condition you ate it.
That could sometimes change the taste as much as ingredients and an elaborate recipe,
or even more.
I knew that in my head.
But it had been a long time since I felt it with my body like this.
The sailors ate quietly.
They did not even chatter.
Because they were hungry.
In the blink of an eye, they had emptied their bowls.
Beside me, Boris was also going to ladle himself a second bowl.
I stared at my empty bowl for a while.
Then I said to Boris,
“Boris.”
“Hm? Want me to get you more too?”
“No, rather than that, would it be all right if I made something too?”
Boris looked me up and down once.
“……What are you trying to make?”
“A dish. If I’ve been treated to a meal, I should repay it. As a chef.”
Boris looked into my eyes for a moment.
Then he grinned and said,
“Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
I immediately began preparing to cook.
* * *