Kitchen Gluta. A fairly famous restaurant in Ende. While Gluta's renown certainly stemmed from fine ingredients and outstanding culinary skill, what truly propelled it to fame was the introduction of a delivery system. By adopting alchemy vessels for dishware—the greatest concern in delivery—they expanded their reach and secured their position before latecomers could catch up.
I too had been satisfied with Gluta's service and ordered from them several times, but after nearly getting stabbed, I couldn't just sit still. Dare sell pork pretending it's beef and put me in danger? You knew and still deceived me, right? You're going to compensate me for this?
"Owner, come out!"
"Woof! Come out!"
I kicked open the door of the restaurant, from which hot smoke was billowing, and shouted.
"Selling pork pretending it's beef? What a despicable act against your customers! Return my money immediately, and compensate me for medical expenses too!"
"Woof! Compensate!"
I made a spirited entrance shouting loudly, but surprisingly for a famous restaurant, Kitchen Gluta didn't show a single shadow of a customer. I thought if I went into the restaurant directly and caused a scene, they'd hand over money out of embarrassment at least.
"What? Did this place go out of business?"
"We are open for regular business."
A heavy voice came from inside the kitchen.
"I wondered who was causing trouble in my establishment."
A massive man walked out from the kitchen. He was so tall that even with the fairly high ceiling, he had to slightly bend his waist when coming through the door. His white clothes and apron couldn't hide the imposing appearance of a beast-kin over two meters tall.
Above all, the curved horns on his head. A nose piercing like a piercing—these revealed his true nature.
The owner and head chef of Kitchen Gluta. And a bull beast-kin. Gluta snorted and looked down at me.
"It's one of two things. Either a pig beast-kin, or a customer who was attacked by them. Seeing you have no ears, you must be a customer."
He likely meant I lacked beast-kin ears, but somehow it sounded to my ears like he'd remove my ears for me. Having instantly regained my manners, I put my hands together and spoke politely.
"…Yes. That's right. I was harassed recently and got carried away in the heat of the moment."
"Customers are treated like kings. Rest assured. I won't grill your face on an iron plate."
Meaning if I weren't a customer, he would grill my face on an iron plate? Haha. Why does that not sound like a joke.
Thank goodness I'm a customer.
"First, before I apologize… Customer, did you truly not know it was pork?"
"Of course. How would I know that?"
"The taste difference between pork and beef is unmistakable, isn't it?"
What? It was? There's a meaningful taste difference between pork and beef? Meat is all the same meat, isn't it? Why didn't I know?
Come to think of it, there's only one reason. Because of that damn military state. Feeding me nothing but processed compressed meat, and even that barely once a month—of course I wouldn't know whether it was pork or beef!
"…There are bound to be people like that in the world."
"Are you an outsider who earned money and settled in Ende? If so, I'm even more sorry. I never thought such a person would exist."
Damn it. I'm the one who was deceived, so why am I becoming more embarrassed? If I had come to the restaurant myself and read thoughts, I wouldn't have been fooled. Even the delivery person delivered it believing it was beef soup without a second thought—how was I supposed to know!
Anyway, though I received a refreshing apology, an apology made only with words is half-baked. Sitting in the chair, I held my chin high yet spoke with some courtesy.
"So. What are you going to do about it?"
"I have pride as a restaurant owner too. Show me the receipt and I'll compensate you accordingly… but."
Gluta continued with a reluctant face.
"Realistically, it's difficult to return all the money to you."
"You said you have pride?"
"There's no money."
What? Why does that sound sincere? No, more than that.
"A restaurant this big and famous has no cash? You want me to believe that?"
"There's a reason for it."
"What is it?"
"You must have experienced it too. Isn't that why you came to me?"
Suddenly it makes a lot of sense. Those things made even someone as magnanimous as me come all the way to a restaurant and cause a scene.
"The pig beast-kin?"
"Correct. Specifically, an organization formed with Piggies at its core. Orcma."
Piggie is a derogatory term looking down on pig beast-kin. Orc is the name used when pig beast-kin were once a symbol of fear. Both were mentioned simultaneously from Gluta's mouth.
To understand why those two titles came about, one must first know about beast-kin. Beast-kin are a race that partially inherits the characteristics of beasts. Since they haven't lost the advantages of humans, beast-kin fundamentally possess superior physical abilities compared to humans.
Dog beast-kin have keen senses and agility.
Sheep beast-kin have lush wool and a sense of balance that lets them easily climb and descend steep slopes.
Bull beast-kin have powerful strength and patience.
Horse beast-kin have overwhelming speed and endurance.
Those who possessed the advantages of beasts showed outstanding performance in their respective fields.
In contrast, the advantage pig beast-kin possessed was… survivability.
They rarely fell ill. They ate anything well. They bore many children, and being beast-kin they had good instincts, so they avoided wild dangers skillfully.
Naturally, the population of pig beast-kin gradually increased, and they formed clans among themselves and dominated territories. Back then, they were called not pig beast-kin but Orcs.
But that too is an old story.
As the touch of civilization reached everywhere across the continent and the lands ruled by nations expanded, the makeshift clans gradually declined. Pig beast-kin, whose very strength lay in numbers, either died refusing subjugation or surrendered in humiliation.
A common tale. The fall was as great as their once-brilliant history. Pig beast-kin were pushed to the very bottom of society. Bearing the derogatory name Piggie on their heads and backs.
Gluta snorted with his arms crossed.
"Those bastards who slowly expanded their influence began full-scale activity from a few years ago. When they clamored for better treatment of Piggies, everyone in Ende understood… but gradually they made unreasonable demands, like putting Piggies in high positions of Ende, or telling people not to eat pork. Now they harass not just the sellers, but the eaters as well."
"All kinds of crazy people exist, huh. But it seems you weren't harassed here?"
"I wasn't. The ones who tried all had their faces turned into pressed meat."
…Looking at those muscles about to burst and that solid calloused flesh, I believe it. Yeah.
"Unable to deal with me, the Piggies turned to terrorizing the customers who ate here. They followed and attacked customers who visited the restaurant. I couldn't stop attacks that happened outside my establishment either."
"It's because of you, isn't it."
"Customers dwindled, and business partners suffered damage. As losses mounted, I swallowed the humiliation and tried to use beef, but… it's impossible to overhaul everything from suppliers to unit prices and recipes. I pretended to lose to the Piggies, claimed I switched to beef, and changed the menu. It was fine for a few weeks."
"But Orcma found out, and I was made an example, right?"
"Seems so. The customer appears to have no injuries, but… that's not important. Orcma wanted to make known the fact that a customer was attacked."
True enough. The Piggie who stabbed me was sloppy, and the place he stabbed wasn't life-threatening to begin with. Rather than intending to kill, the act of stabbing itself seemed to be what mattered.
Orcma. Orcma. For a secret organization, their actions are somewhat petty. Though pettiness can be important… it seems insufficient to draw the regressor's attention. The regressor will be too engrossed with the Wolf King to care about something like Orcma.
Pig beast-kin who forbid eating pork. As I chewed over that sentence, Gluta's horns caught my eye.
"Wait. You're a bull beast-kin, aren't you?"
"As you can see."
"Then why did you say you sold beef soup?"
"There are several reasons. First, if substituting for pork, there's no meat better suited for soup than beef. Also, it doesn't seem wrong for a bull beast-kin like me to sell beef."
So it's fine as long as you're the one selling it. I understand the feeling. But that wasn't what I wanted to ask.
"Gluta. Do you have no aversion to using beef?"
If pig beast-kin avoid pork, does that same mindset not apply to bull beast-kin?
At my question, Gluta let out a deep sigh. So deep that his lips trembled slightly.
"It's not like I don't. It's definitely there."
"But you sold it anyway?"
"My restaurant, my customers, my pride come before some faint aversion. If the unit price had worked out, I would have switched to beef. That's not a lie."
He was sincere. However, unlike his earlier words, these lacked solid conviction.
"…But when the unit price for beef soup didn't work out. There was a part of me that felt relieved. That too is certain."
'When cutting off horns like mine and putting them in a pot. When slicing the thoroughly boiled and tendered head meat. A repulsive sensation lingers around my hands. Above all, when trying to taste it…'
Gluta, who trembled slightly, confessed with a troubled expression.
"So while I hate the Piggies, as a fellow beast-kin, I understand their anger. To some extent."
Through conversation, and through reading his mind as I came to understand Gluta, the emotion I felt was neither sympathy nor awkwardness. It was anger. Just in a slightly different direction.
That damn military state that couldn't even let me taste meat properly and only fed me beans is really starting to piss me off.