Chapter 35 (1/2)

Eula sucked on the tips of her chopsticks while staring at the entrance to the store. She was savoring the remnants of the pickled radish she had just eaten, trying to make the flavor drag out as long as possible. The door to the restaurant opened, and a familiar figure appeared. Eula’s eyes lit up. Wasn’t that Paul, the bodyguard for hire? She had been looking all over for him, but who knew she’d find him when she least expected it. Eula raised her hand and waved, catching the ex-interdimensional mercenary’s attention.

The first thing Paul noticed when he walked into the store was the overenthusiastic girl who he had promised would be his first client. What kind of business would he be running if his customers weren’t satisfied? Halfway to the girl’s table, he realized the weakling chef ran a business that left his customers unsatisfied. Who would be satisfied with eating only one serving of a delicious dish? It was like him going to a brothel but being forced to leave after taking his clothes off—not that he knew what that experience was like. With that thought in mind, Paul finished his trek and sat in front of the overenthusiastic girl. Since he was now an entrepreneur, he would run an honest business that left customers pleased with his service. He wouldn’t be like the weakling chef.

Speaking of the weakling chef, Smith Jr. came out of the kitchen with a knife in his hand. He had seen Paul enter through the one-way walls, and when the mercenary went straight for Eula, Smith Jr. knew he had to take the reins, so he decisively abandoned the radish he was slicing, knowing the system would hold it against him and add a spirit stone to his debt. “Are you loitering?” Smith Jr. asked, gesturing at Paul with his knife. Without waiting for the mercenary to respond, the chef shouted, “Tutor Golem! There’s a loiterer!”

The faceless golem appeared without a sound, standing next to the table with the three users. “Young martial chef, the next round of training you partake in shall train your eyes. The woman is an eating customer, and the man already has spirit stones out ready to make an order. If there’s anyone loitering, it’s you.”

Smith Jr. slumped down as his shoulders were latched onto by the golem. He didn’t resist as he was dragged back into the kitchen. On his way, he heard Paul calling out, “I’d like an egg fried rice and pickled radish.”

While the unhappy chef was forced to cook at the cost of being stabbed by Tutor Golem 3000, Paul pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table to Eula. “This is my business card.”

Eula picked up the card and gave Paul a shy smile. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to use your services.”

Paul nodded. At that moment, the door to the restaurant opened once more. A guard shambled into the restaurant. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his skin looked unusually saggy around his cheeks. The two customers stared at him, but the guard didn’t seem to notice them. It was as if he were reading an invisible block of text in front of his face.

Max looked around, and his gaze landed on the blackboard by the door. This was clearly the place. No other restaurant charged spirit stones for egg fried rice and pickled radishes. In fact, no other restaurant charged spirit stones at all. Upon confirming he was in the right place, a block of text appeared in his vision.

[Great detective work, Max! I knew you could do it. All you had to do was believe in yourself, see? Now you just have to meet the owner.]

Max sighed through his nose and walked over to a table far away from the only two customers in the restaurant. He took a seat and waited. The shop had a grand interior, but there weren’t any waiters. Max found it a little odd, but he didn’t question it. The last time he questioned something, he was given a mission, and as the saying went, once burned, twice shy. As long as the words continued to parasitize his vision, he vowed to never question anything again. Soon, his patience paid off. A chef came out of the back corridor with a tray of food and walked over to Max. The chef placed the tray down on the table beside Max and said to the other customers, “If you want your food, you’ll have to sit over here.”

Clearly, the customers did not come to this restaurant for the service. Max assumed the chef was the owner judging by the man’s attitude. “Are you the boss?”

Smith Jr. glanced at the weary guard. “Yes. Read the blackboard. What do you want?”

[Owner confirmed! Excellent job, Max!]