The Chaotic Days of 'Ginkgo Tavern' in Another World: A Story of Bonds Through Stomachs
Three stars in Shibuya meant nothing to him now—not when his porridge recipe just started a riot.
Reincarnated chef Kuroki Satoru has traded Michelin ambitions for a frontier tavern at the edge of a world where sea monsters, magical boars, and mysterious glowing particles called "solvent" are just part of the daily grind. His restaurant, Ginkgo Tavern, sits eighty kilometers from the nearest tower of horrors and a hundred and twenty from civilization—exactly the kind of place where nobody shoul
The Chaotic Days of 'Ginkgo Tavern' in Another World: A Story of Bonds Through Stomachs - Branch Chief, I'm Starving — The One-Eyed Man and the Defector Under the Table
Before dawn, the Ginkgo Tavern was filled with the smell of simmering demon-boar bones.
Satoru Kuroki stood in the kitchen, trying to think about how to deal with the Steel Grid—the continent-spanning administrative body that oversaw adventurers, with a branch office here in Waterend. He was trying to think about it.
The bottom of the pot nearly scorched for about three seconds.
His thoughts got dragged over there instead. High heat to medium. One full sweep of the bottom with the wooden spatula. Yep, safe. The collagen from demon-boar bones only came out properly over low heat. Even in his past life's three-star kitchen, rushing the stock was a losing game.
(The Steel Grid thing—yeah, a sticky note'll do.)
He opened his research notebook and jotted down a few hypotheses about essence. Watching Irina's essence rampage the other day—that phenomenon where her control slipped in sync with her emotions—had raised some questions. Essence arts were supposed to be a technique for drawing in atmospheric particles, converting them through willpower. But with her, emotion moved before will. Something about that felt fundamentally different.
At the edge of the page, he wrote in small letters: "The Irina Problem," and stuck a note beside it.
Postponement complete.
That was when he sensed a presence deeper in the kitchen. Silver hair caught the edge of his vision. Irina had woken before Kuroki and was checking outside the window. She'd been doing it over and over since last night. Every time she heard hoofbeats—no, even without hoofbeats, just when the wind blew from an odd direction—she'd clasp her hands tighter on her lap.
"Good morning."
"...Good morning."
Her voice was low and small. She answered without pulling her gaze from the window. Her gold-and-blue heterochromatic eyes kept watch on the dim cobblestones before dawn.
Kuroki said nothing and continued preparing breakfast. Irina came to help. As she reached to set out plates—five plates all floated about two inches into the air. Then stopped. Essence leaking from tension was, by now, a firmly established morning routine.
"They're floating."
He said it without turning around.
"...I'm sorry."
The plates descended slowly and landed. The five plates lined up on the counter sat without a single one out of place. Kuroki pulled out his research notebook. He wrote: "Landing precision: good. Essence control trending toward stability."
"Today's goal is two broken plates or fewer."
Irina turned around. Her gold and blue eyes narrowed just slightly.
"...Two is a lot."
It was a protest. Small, but definitely a protest. Kuroki opened his notebook and added a line: "Speech volume: increasing. Notably proactive in rebuttals."
He tried not to think too hard about what exactly he was recording.
---
An hour after opening, the three regulars from the Sand-rank—the burly one, A; the smooth talker, B; and the easygoing one, C—came barreling in together.
"Here we go, today's set meal—"
Just as all three were about to sit down, B spoke in a low voice.
"Hey, did you see the branch office building on the north end earlier?"
A's face stiffened.
"...The Steel Grid crest flag, right? There were a bunch of horses."
"Not the usual branch guys. Too many of them."
The air in the tavern shifted slightly. At the other tables, the adventurers' voices dropped naturally. Kuroki watched from the kitchen while continuing to simmer the demon boar.
At the counter, Irina stood frozen with a cloth in her hands.
Kuroki quietly moved to the kitchen doorway and gently tugged Irina's shoulder.
"Come here a moment."
Deep in the kitchen, behind the shelves. Irina nodded. She couldn't speak. Her hands were trembling slightly. Kuroki said nothing, checked the flame under the soup, and went back to normal operations.
---
Before noon, the Ginkgo Tavern's door creaked.
It was a heavy sound. Not the sound of a normal customer opening a door. It was the sound of a door being pushed open slowly, deliberately, with pressure behind it.
One step. Inside.
Everyone in the tavern stopped talking. Reflexively, naturally, without anyone ordering them to. Three adventurers half-rose from their seats.
Salt-and-pepper gray short hair. A black eyepatch covering the left eye. On his chest, the Steel Grid crest—a shield entwined with chains, the badge worn only by branch heads. He stood about six foot two, with a build that was anything but ordinary. The remnants of his days as a Gold-rank adventurer still bled through in the way he walked.
Dolg Haven. Steel Grid Waterend Branch Head.
For a moment, it felt as though the stone-built Ginkgo Tavern had physically grown heavier.
In the filling silence—only the sound of a knife being sharpened continued. Kuroki was in the kitchen, running the whetstone as if nothing were happening. The monotonous shh, shh rang out absurdly out of place.
Sand-rank A jerked his elbow toward Kuroki's back and mouthed silently: "That's the branch head!!"
Kuroki set down the knife and looked up.
"Welcome. How many in your party?"
It was a business voice. A completely ordinary customer-service voice.
Dolg looked at Kuroki. A heavy pause.
"...One."
A low voice. But that was all he said before slowly lowering himself onto a counter seat.
Kuroki presented a menu. Dolg took it and began reading it carefully, from one end to the other.
One minute passed.
Two minutes passed.
Sand-rank B mouthed to A beside him: "Terrifying." A mouthed back: "Shut up." C just kept drinking his soup.
Dolg spoke without lifting his eyes from the menu.
"Kuroki-dono. What are the ingredients in the sauce for this demon-boar simmered hamburg steak?"
It was an interrogation. The voice of a full-on interrogation.
"It's based on a fond de veau–style broth from demon-boar bones simmered for seven hours, cut with a stock made from rehydrated dried mushrooms, reduced over low heat for ninety minutes, then finished on high heat for five. The root vegetables arrived this morning from the Galben farm."
He answered matter-of-factly. Dolg nodded.
"The origin of the dried mushrooms?"
"From the market in the lower Melun River basin—outer edge of Tower Shadow Wilds. The essence concentration there runs a bit high, so I rehydrate them longer than usual."
"The basis for ninety minutes on low heat?"
"To maintain the temperature range where collagen dissolves slowly. Rushing it brings out off-flavors."
Everyone in the tavern was looking back and forth between Kuroki and Dolg. Not a single fork was moving. Because this was, by any measure, a gourmet interrogation. A one-eyed former Gold-rank adventurer was grilling a cook on ingredient origins and cooking times. What kind of crime scene was this?
Sand-rank C whispered to A. "Why's he answering in that much detail?" "That's just how Kuroki-san is." "Huh?" "He really is like that."
Dolg set the menu on the counter.
"...Then I'll have the demon-boar simmered hamburg steak."
Kuroki retreated into the kitchen.
The food arrived. On an oval flat plate, a beautifully seared block of meat and a glossy sauce. Root vegetables on the side. That was all. A plate with no unnecessary garnish or explanation.
Dolg looked at the plate. He picked up his fork and knife. Cut a bite. Ate.
Another bite.
Another bite.
The tavern was completely still. No one was eating. No one was talking. The simple fact that the branch head was eating a Ginkgo Tavern set meal pinned everyone to their chairs like gravity.
Dolg finished. He set down his fork and knife. Took a sip of water. Facing straight ahead, not moving a muscle—ten seconds.
A single line traced down his cheek.
Expressionless. Silent. It was a tear.
Sand-rank A pointed. "The branch head is crying!!"
"It's dust."
"There's no wind today!!"
"It's smoke from the essence lamp."
"That's the kind of lamp that doesn't produce smoke!!"
"The onion fumes got in my eye."
"There are no onions in it."
A quiet finishing blow came from the kitchen.
Dolg froze for an instant. Then he wiped the eye that wasn't covered by the patch. His expression didn't change in the slightest. He cried with a completely blank face, and wiped with a completely blank face.
"...One more bowl of soup."
It was a quiet voice. The branch head had ordered an extra in a quiet voice.
Sand-rank A held back laughter so hard he banged his forehead on the table. B and C hunched over, shoulders shaking. At the other tables, every adventurer was somehow staring at the ceiling. Everyone was at their limit. No one could explode because the branch head was right there—that tension filled the tavern.
In the shadow of the kitchen doorway stood Irina.
Peeking out quietly, she watched Dolg wipe his tears. Her expression had softened—just barely, truly just barely.
Kuroki served the soup. Dolg drank it quietly. He set the empty bowl on the counter.
That sound, like a signal, changed the air in the tavern.
The laughter receded. The adventurers naturally put distance between themselves and the counter. No one made any unnecessary moves. The branch head's work face had returned.
Dolg fixed Kuroki with a direct stare.
"I've received a report that a girl who escaped from the Tower of Taboo is in this area."
It was a grave voice. Completely different from the gourmet interrogation.
"I'd like you to hand her over."
Kuroki wiped his knife with a cloth.
"I don't know anything about that."
He answered without pause.
"You mean my dishwasher?"
At those words, the color drained from Sand-rank A's face. In that instant, everyone understood: Kuroki intended to shield her. B tried to kick Kuroki's direction under the table and didn't reach. C quietly closed his eyes.
Dolg stood.
When his six-foot-two frame rose, the pressure in the tavern physically shifted. The intimidation seeping from every inch of a man who had once conquered the Tower as a Gold-rank. The glasses on the tables seemed to tremble faintly.
Kuroki didn't move from behind the counter.
"It's the lunch rush. Could you handle your business outside of operating hours?"
Sand-rank A pleaded in a whisper: "Stop!!" Kuroki replied in the same whisper.
"I can't have threats made in my establishment."
"Why are you so calm about this!!!"
A clutched his head. Then face-planted onto the table.
Dolg took a breath.
"...Have you ever heard the phrase, 'the fractured mana key'?"
There was a sound at the kitchen doorway. Small, sharp—the sound of Irina catching her breath.
Kuroki's hand stopped for just an instant. Then moved again. But Dolg had seen that instant.
"The girl is believed to be the key's compatible subject—the one the master of the Tower of Taboo seeks."
The Tower's master—a being said to dwell in the deepest level of the Tower of Taboo, whose appearance and abilities were entirely unknown—was seeking that girl.
"Handing her over is not a punishment. It's to protect and manage her as an organization."
Kuroki let a long silence hang.
"Please explain the difference between protection and management."
It was a quiet question. Not anger, not argument—a voice that genuinely seemed to be asking.
Dolg didn't answer.
Two seconds.
Two seconds of complete silence. According to what Sand-rank A would say later, in those two seconds, Dolg had lost to Kuroki.
"...I'll wait three days."
Dolg counted out copper coins precisely and placed them on the counter. Payment for the meal and the soup. Not a single coin over or under.
The door closed heavily.
The instant it shut, Sand-rank A collapsed off his chair. Thud!!!
"I thought my heart was going to stop!!"
"I might've been crying."
"Why was Kuroki-san the calmest one in the room!!!"
All three shouted almost simultaneously.
Kuroki turned back toward the kitchen.
Irina was gripping the wooden doorframe with both hands, bracing herself so her knees wouldn't buckle. The color had drained from her face.
"Sit down. I'll make soup."
That was all he said.
---
The evening customers thinned out,
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