Eddie was in a good mood.
Sure, Ketron still looked like he had zero energy, but at the very least, it felt like he’d managed to stave off the protagonist’s descent into darkness—if only temporarily. On top of that, the festival had brought in a flood of customers to the inn, even if it was just for the season.
The tourists who’d come to the Empire for the festivities probably wouldn’t leave right away. They’d stick around a while longer, tour the capital, and then eventually head home.
Which meant now was the perfect time to introduce a new menu item. There were plenty of ideas already—it was just a matter of choosing one. A good kind of problem. Eddie was caught up in this happy dilemma.
On the morning of the third day since he’d picked up Ketron, everything still seemed to be going smoothly—at least, until he found that note.
“Huh?”
It was early in the morning, just after Eddie had woken up out of habit and stretched with a big yawn. That was when he spotted a folded slip of paper tucked into the window frame beside his bed.
It was wedged in too perfectly for it to be an accident. Anyone could see that this was meant for Eddie.
But the Empire had a working postal service, and the postman made his rounds every morning. If someone had wanted to send a regular letter, they would’ve used the normal channels.
Meaning: this wasn’t a normal letter.
Eddie carefully pulled the paper from the window frame.
There was no envelope. Just a piece of paper, neatly folded twice. He unfolded it to find a short, simple message.
[Eight, complete.]
“……?”
Eddie flipped the paper over with a puzzled look. There was nothing else—no recipient, no sender, no markings of any kind. It even made him wonder if this was really meant for him at all.
[Eight, complete.]
Even reading it again didn’t help. What was complete?
What did “eight” mean? It sounded like something had been finished—something labeled or counted as number eight.
But why go through the trouble of delivering this so secretly?
Who was it for?
After staring at the message for a long while, Eddie folded the paper again.
Should he ask Gerold?
He considered it—but then quickly changed his mind. If it was something Gerold knew about, it would look suspicious that Eddie didn’t. That was one of the annoying things about possessing a body with missing memories.
Sometimes he wondered: what kind of person had the original Eddie been? How did someone like Gerold—a high-level asset by all appearances—end up working at a shabby little inn like this? Why didn’t Gerold ever say anything about Eddie’s obviously changed behavior or personality?
Why was he so loyal… Did the original Eddie have family? Siblings?
There was no way to know right now, and Eddie didn’t feel like actively digging. These things had a way of blowing up if you rushed them. Like they say—haste makes indigestion.
Eddie’s expression turned slightly serious.
But only for a moment. Soon enough, he casually slid the note into the drawer of his room.
He could’ve gone all movie-style and burned it right away, but Eddie was just a regular guy with no magic. He couldn’t cast a spell, and using matches might start a fire. Plus, it wasn’t winter, so the fireplace wasn’t lit. And just in case he’d need to look at the note again, keeping it seemed the smarter option.
Besides—who would even know what it meant? He sure didn’t.
No need to waste brainpower over it. Eddie only knew this inn and its immediate surroundings—no matter how hard he thought, it wasn’t like he’d figure anything out.
And Eddie was the kind of guy who didn’t waste energy on things he couldn’t change.
Before long, he completely forgot about it and did what he always did—headed downstairs to the first floor of the inn, grabbed a piece of parchment, and started brainstorming.
Gerold handled most of the day-to-day operations with magic, so Eddie had the luxury of thinking ahead about the inn’s future.
Specifically—new menu items.
“Hmmm…”
It was probably about time he added some proper meals.
Convenience stores surprisingly stocked a lot of fresh ingredients—eggs, leafy greens, fresh produce. The Fire Chicken Noodles had already generated a buzz, so now was the time to add a dependable, always-available staple menu item.
If anything, the problem was too many options. Eddie stared at the slightly yellowed parchment for a long while, deep in thought.
And then, around lunchtime, the voices of chatting customers began to reach his ears.
“You heard the news?”
“Yeah, about Marquis Meggin, right?”
“Shhh! Don’t talk so loud. We’re talking about a high noble!”
“Aw, come on. Everyone in the capital’s talking about it anyway.”
Marquis Meggin?
The name tugged at Eddie’s memory. He frowned, trying to place it. Then it hit him—he was one of the central noble faction characters from the Empire. A recurring figure in the original novel, The Hero Doesn’t Even Try to Hide His Power.
A textbook noble elitist—arrogant, power-hungry, and a general pain. He’d been obnoxious from a reader’s perspective, but in this world, even calling him trash wouldn’t have been an exaggeration.
“Can’t believe someone like that got assassinated! What the hell’s going on?”
“They say a manifesto was posted?”
“Yeah, the marquis’s people tore it down quickly, but the rumors spread like wildfire. ‘Behold the crimes of Marquis Meggin’—that’s what it said. Listed every single one of his misdeeds.”
The men continued on with a stream of trivial gossip. Aside from the marquis, it was the usual stuff.
Apparently there was a bakery on the west side of the plaza that was so popular people lined up every day. Someone said they’d smelled the bread. Someone else said the owner had trained in a neighboring kingdom famous for its pastries.
As Eddie listened, something clicked in his mind.
Come to think of it, inns were actually perfect places for information-gathering, weren’t they? In fantasy novels, that was practically a genre trope.
If martial arts stories had beggar clans, fantasy stories had inns.
“Hm.”
Well, maybe not this sad little inn in particular—but still.
Staring at the blank parchment and scratching his chin, Eddie called out to Gerold, who was nearby working.
“Feels like the city’s getting a little tense, huh, Gerold?”
Gerold paused, then looked up. Sharp as ever, he probably caught on right away that Eddie was referring to the rumors about Marquis Meggin.
Eddie wasn’t really trying to gauge Gerold’s reaction—just trying to make casual conversation with his normally stoic employee.
“Seems that way.”
Gerold’s eyes briefly lingered on Eddie. The gaze was slightly longer, slightly heavier than usual—but Eddie didn’t notice.
* * *
Eddie was now downstairs in the convenience store. The brightly lit space, with its fully functional refrigerators, freezers, and lights—all without electricity—felt completely out of place in the Empire. But to Eddie, it was the most familiar place in the world.
“Mmm.”
He’d decided on a general direction for the menu. He’d add a couple proper meal items.
Meals were built on carbs—so that meant either rice or noodles. All he had to do was decide what to pair with the base.
Should he include side dishes, like a full Korean-style set meal? How much should he charge? What kind of tray layout? None of it was clear, so he figured he’d just browse the inventory and see what sparked inspiration.
His Korean roots meant the first thing that came to mind was kimchi—but he figured fermented foods might turn people off, so that was tabled.
Ramen was also set aside for now—Fire Chicken Noodles had that territory covered.
He’d briefly considered doing a full-course hanjeongsik with assorted side dishes, but that didn’t really fit the inn’s identity. That idea was benched too.
What he needed was a dish that was mild, not too polarizing, easy on the stomach, and ideal for breakfast—something simple, something comforting.
“…Yeah. That one.”
Eyes closed in thought, Eddie came to a decision.
“The most important thing—soy sauce. Ah, there it is.”
He picked a soy sauce bottle with an egg on the label. Then he grabbed instant rice, a large pack of seasoned seaweed flakes, a six-pack of raw eggs, and instant udon bowls with hot soup illustrations.
“Oh, right!”
Almost forgot the most important part. He picked up a bottle of fragrant sesame oil last. His arms were getting full.
With all the ingredients gathered, Eddie grinned.
Just as he was about to load everything into a basket near the store entrance, something else caught his eye—retort pouches of porridge. Abalone, abalone-liver, beef, veggie, pumpkin… all kinds.
His eyes landed on the bright yellow pumpkin porridge.
Porridge was usually considered sick food, but in his past life, Eddie had liked eating it just as a meal.
So he wasn’t exactly the sweet pumpkin type.
But suddenly, a certain face came to mind—one that had happily slurped down banana milk.
「It’s sweet.」
That voice, answering so honestly.
Thinking about how Ketron probably hadn’t eaten anything today either, Eddie figured he should bring him something.
The kid seemed to like sweet stuff.
If Ketron heard that, he’d probably scoff that he’d never eaten sweet things his entire life—but Eddie smirked and crossed his arms.
And technically speaking, Ketron was a patient. The kid hadn’t eaten properly in days, and his stomach would be sensitive. Porridge really was the right choice.
Eddie tossed the pumpkin porridge into the basket. Since it wasn’t a big portion, he also added abalone-liver porridge and beef porridge.
To maintain that body, Ketron would need to eat plenty. And nobody knew better than Eddie just how poorly he’d been eating lately, so he kept tossing in more packs.
The small basket was now packed.
Strangely, it looked like the food for Ketron outweighed the actual recipe ingredients.
But hey, no big deal. Some guys keep growing even after twenty—he’s still in his growth spurt, after all.
…That the “kid” was bigger than Eddie didn’t even cross his mind, as he strolled out of the convenience store with a light step.
Behind him, the emptied shelves silently restocked themselves.