"...The more rustic something is, the more endearing it tends to be."
...What a lousy excuse for a personal attack.
Even Ms. Otis, with that shameless silver tongue, must not have been able to salvage what she'd already said, because out came a reply straight from the standard playbook.
Of course, she still couldn't help adding one more line with that same silver tongue.
"The problem is your own petty attitude!"
"...Why... why are you picking a fight on your own..."
Dante's clock hands trembled in tiny spasms, as if instinct alone had already foreseen battle.
And yet, until that moment, there must still have been some hope that the fight might be avoided.
"Now! Let me correct that rotten attitude of yours!"
That is, if Ms. Otis hadn't said that and then drawn her weapon.
Another fight, huh. Figures.
There was no way they'd use peaceful methods like conversation or persuasion.
She said she'd open her heart, so I thought maybe. I got my hopes up for nothing.
"Everyone, battle stations! Form up!"
My life is always like this...
Clang—
Before I could even take a stance, something shattered and an Identity was overlaid onto me.
*
"Ghk!"
Whoosh!
Damn! That wrench is vicious as hell!
Why is there even a possibility that one bad hit can completely wreck your stance in a single blow?
I let my guard down because he'd supposedly been a normal cook just a few months ago, but are Distortions always this strong?
Ah, wait, that one—
"Gk."
Ding, dong, dang, dang, clang!
Wow, Mr. Heathcliff got reduced to a heap of meat in one hit.
That thing is disgustingly strong. Why is that even a cook?
"Kyaaaek...!"
Was the only silver lining in this battle that we were at least slowly thinning out the chickens that had come out with him?
"Ghk!"
Whoosh!
Dammit, now that Mr. Heathcliff is dead, the boss's attacks are focusing on me alone.
I didn't want to do a pincer attack with a person like this for exactly this reason...!
"Ghk!"
This one's winnable, right now—!
"Hup!"
Bang!
The clash between a gloved hand and the wrench produced a piercing shockwave no human body should ever make.
At the same time, brilliant golden light poured out from the altar as it accepted the burned knowledge.
Instinctively, I knew the clash was won.
Clang! Whooosh— Thud! Thud!! Thud!!
"Grrr..."
Three effective hits. Still not enough.
I immediately reset my stance to intercept the enemy's follow-up.
What a disgusting pain in the ass. If we can at least finish off the remaining chickens, maybe this'll become manageable?
"Gkgrrk!"
Clang!
"Agh!"
...Some weird attack hit Sinclair.
"Kreee!"
And a chicken burst out of the basket-like thing strapped to his back.
I jinxed it. Was that a flag?
"Haa..."
Looks like we'll have to drag this out a little longer. Should I try smashing that basket thing?
For all I know, if I break it, the chicken production might stop.
Then let's put that into action.
"Ghk!"
The same attack as before, the one I'd just blocked. Should I dodge and counter this time?
Whoosh!
"Hup!"
Bang—! Crack! Whoosh, thud!!
Oh, nice. That did serious damage. One or two more and it should break.
"The pub owner's the only one left now, attack!"
Perfect timing, they're done over there too. Then I just need to smash the basket quickly and finish off the owner. That should do it.
Good. This'll be easy now. Let's wrap it up fast and get some rest.
*
"...While frying the chicken, I'd somehow forgotten important things..."
After we beat down the owner of Eunbong's Pub, his memory unfolded before my eyes.
So now I could see the broken fragments of memory from before. Oddly enough, it felt relaxing.
"It was chicken even his mother could eat deliciously. Chicken that could satisfy even that endlessly picky palate..."
Oh... I'd guessed from the shop name being taken from his mother's name, but he was a real mama's boy.
A man who opened a chicken shop himself just to make food that could satisfy his picky mother.
He was the sort of good soul you don't often see in a Nest of the City.
But...
"......"
But the pub owner swallowed a low groan, as if he'd guessed something.
Usually, in a situation like this, there's one obvious cliché.
"No... I knew it all along. The reason Mom never ate the chicken was... because our family couldn't afford it..."
...No matter how well Nest-dwellers live, there's still a life of their own here too.
Like most people in the back alleys, there are stories here too, and reasons of their own.
Looks like the pub owner's story was poverty.
"So... our house always had coupons piled up... if you collected ten, you could get one free..."
......
"Mother kept collecting them and collecting them... just to feed you a single chicken you wouldn't even touch..."
A story that would move anyone to tears... huh?
"......Huh?"
Wait, hold on.
"Ah, they were pizza coupons."
No way... no, right? Please tell me what I'm thinking is a lie.
Then, as if to drive the nail in, the owner's mother's voice rang out.
"Mom... likes... pizza... more than... chicken..."
Ah, what the hell, seriously. Give me back my emotion!!!
I even got a little teary thinking there was some heartbreaking backstory!
"Ah, no, this..."
Before I could even finish voicing my complaint, my consciousness was abruptly dragged back outside.
Seriously, what the—
"Ugh... my mind..."
"The appearance has returned to normal."
"That was a good operation. Carrot and stick. An effective tactical method often used in military operations."
"Was that... an operation? What's the difference between that and just hurling insults like usual and launching a preemptive strike..."
"Only I and that brat... boy noticed the atmosphere. You kept up well."
"Th-thank you! Ms. Otis!"
Ms. Otis hurriedly cut off Ishmael's pointed remark and fumbled her way through an explanation.
As expected, she was someone whose shamelessness deserved respect. If you touched her face, you'd probably feel steel plate instead of skin.
"Didn't you almost call him a brat just now?"
Dante's words were buried as smoothly as water flowing downstream.
Not because of any special reason, just because the pub owner opened his mouth and buried them.
"Thank you. Thanks to you, I think I can make a fresh start."
A fresh start, huh. Was he planning to make pizza or something?
"The important thing wasn't the recipe... it was the heart for someone else... even if that shape is pizza... if you put sincerity into it, the customers will like it."
So it was true.
"Hey, they said that chicken shop was giving out an unlimited-use pass. What are we supposed to do about that?"
Ah, right. That was a thing too.
"I... thought I'd be tearing into chicken legs of every variety by now..."
"It was definitely a bit long for a simple mission. The reward we should receive is also... hmm..."
"......"
The owner looked at us for a moment, then took something out and handed it over.
"It's not much, but please take this..."
A wrapped box. What's inside, I wonder?
"It's a precious treasure, the only one of its kind in the shop..."
Oh... that sounds like something.
"Is it all right for us to take the only one?"
"If it weren't for all of you, I might not have been able to reopen the restaurant... please think of it as my thanks."
Is that so? That was actually a pretty heartwarming story. Should we open the box on the bus?
I'm looking forward to seeing what's inside—
*
"...And that's how we solved the Distortion and obtained this treasure!"
—and with that, Don Quixote's long-winded story came to an end.
"......"
Well, I don't know whether Vergilius actually understood it through Don Quixote's bizarre way of explaining things...
"How was it, how was it? Are you so deeply moved you can't speak?!"
Maybe it was enough that she herself was satisfied. It didn't look like he'd been listening properly anyway.
"I didn't even hear the part from 'We headed to Eunbong's' onward."
Oh... he listened even less than I thought.
I figured he'd at least humor her for a few minutes.
"You didn't listen from the very beginning!"
"Faust will be submitting the report anyway, so why should I bother listening to your chatter?"
Ah, I can't argue with that. No matter how hard you worked your tongue on the spot, you'd never come close to Faust's report.
Especially not if the speaker was Don Quixote.
"Ignore that and come on, Donqui~ We need to open this box fast~ Hehehe."
Ah, right. That was still there too.
"I wonder what's inside~"
Everyone opened the box with anticipation, and...
[This is Bongi, the one-and-only mascot doll. I made it thinking it might come in handy, and I'm glad to be able to give it to you like this. ^0^/]
...Inside, we found a letter and a cute chicken doll enclosed with it.
No, sir, if you say it's not much, then it's only polite to give something impressive... no, wait. A person who hasn't run a business for months probably wouldn't have anything to give.
Just let it go... a lifetime free chicken coupon... just...
It doesn't look like we can just let this go, huh.
"No... this can't be. If we cut open the doll's stomach, wouldn't something be inside?"
"Ms. Rodion. Even so, I don't think that's likely."
"Right, he didn't really seem like the type to prepare an event like that..."
"Maybe he just dumped it on us because it was a pain to deal with?"
"...Ah, somehow that actually sounds likely, Gregor."
As we stared at the doll with dumbfounded expressions, a rough brown hand picked it up.
"Let's throw it into that incinerator or whatever."
Just as the doll seemed about to meet its end in the Concept Incinerator, someone quietly caught the doll Heathcliff was gripping like he might tear it apart.
"Charon likes this passenger."
"What on earth do you like about it—"
So Charon liked cute things after all. Sure enough, that was something Mr. Heathcliff would never understand...
"It doesn't have anything except eyes."
...Nope, Mr. Heathcliff still didn't understand it. Huh.
"That's what I like."
What is this place...
"...Fine. Then that's that. Don't throw the doll away."
Soon after, Vergilius, Charon's guardian, stepped in and mediated the situation.
Ah, well. Sure. People can like that sort of thing. Fine.
"It has arms, legs, and a torso too, not just eyes."
...Is Mr. Meursault oblivious, or has he simply not learned that sort of slightly off-dictionary meaning?
No, wait. Was it actually a robot? Some incredible robot born while dodging the eyes in its head... there's no way something like that exists in the City.
And so, in one way or another, the chicken doll we'd obtained in place of a lifetime chicken pass was also hung on the bus...
*
Crackle, crackle.
"Yes, Director Dongrang. The Distortion has been safely resolved. I confirmed it myself."
Crackle... crackle...
"At first they seemed a little untrustworthy... but I think it would be fine to speak with them. Yes, I'll bring them over now."
Click.
"W-what do we do now?"
As soon as the call ended, the owner of the Boddhisattva Chicken, looking uneasy, spoke to Samjo.
"I dislike sentences with the subject omitted."
"If that restaurant reopens, our customers will leave... then we won't be able to meet our quota..."
"You should have started thinking about survival the moment you put the stolen recipe into the Concept Incinerator."
As if the Boddhisattva Chicken's business wasn't his problem, Samjo brushed it off with a light laugh and then added one more thing.
"If you're going to steal, make sure even the owner can't notice. Don't you know that proverb?"
"I... I don't know anything like that... I don't..."
"Yes, I just made it up. Remember it next time."
After toying with the owner, he turned on his heel without hesitation, as if his work were done.
"Then I'll be off. We need to prepare to receive our guests."
After one short, fairly entertaining mission came to an end.
We would soon be swept up in an unprecedentedly massive incident.
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