Ron stood before a house enclosed by a fence.
As he opened the gate in the fence that stretched wide like a wall and stepped inside—
FWOOSH—!
His figure wavered and split into two.
Left or right, it was impossible to tell—a movement half a beat faster.
An afterimage formed, and the direction he had seemed set on suddenly shifted.
SWISH—!
Having divided his target's attention, Ron charged straight at his objective without hesitation. At the same time, he gripped the sword's hilt and used the friction of the scabbard to amplify the explosive force.
A quick-draw technique that unleashed concentrated sword force in an instant.
If the concentration of power was perfect, it could minimize aura consumption.
The very aesthetic of speed.
SLASH—!
CRASH—!
The sword strike carved sharply through space, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
“AAAAH!”
After the piercing scream, a shadow went tumbling wildly across the ground.
ROLL, ROLL, ROLL!
The figure that had rolled frantically through the manicured grass rose while clutching her waist.
“That almost killed me! Are you insane?”
“You didn't die.”
“Wasn't a double sword strike a bit much?”
“Quit whining.”
“If I hadn't cast Distortion Magic, I'd have been cut in half!”
The attacker who had ambushed him on his way home from work was Eshula. She had used concealment before launching her surprise attack.
‘Unbelievable.’
She had thought it would work this time, but he immediately sensed her presence, and her defensive spell was sliced apart like paper.
Up to that point, she had at least put the lessons from being beaten several times to use. This time, she had planned to use Distortion Magic to feign death the instant her defensive spell collapsed.
The first sword strike was not the real attack. The second strike from behind was.
She had poured no small amount of mana into the Shield. It was astonishing enough that he had cut through it in a single stroke, but she had not expected him to see through the Distortion Magic as well.
Ron still toyed with Eshula in the palm of his hand. There was no way he could be called merely a lower-level Expert. At the very least, she suspected he had reached the upper level.
“Dad would fall over backward if he found out.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“What if I am?”
“The city's public safety has improved. Unlike before, they don't demand unreasonable amounts of money anymore. Still, protection money is illegal. Probably.”
“……You knew?”
The brazenness vanished from Eshula's face after he struck the heart of the matter, leaving her plainly flustered. Her father was a knight. If she had committed illegal acts, even for a just cause, she would be sentenced to a hundred smacks on the backside.
After carefully tracing cause and effect, Eshula's complexion began to recover.
Maybe there was a way.
I can't be the only one who dies.
Being alone is lonely, but two people are a comfort.
Of course, it did not work on Ron in the slightest.
“I don't mind if you tell him.”
“Damn it, you were playing me!”
Eshula was, astonishingly, a 4th Circle mage.
At her age, reaching even the 1st Circle was enough to be called a genius. If the Magic Tower found out, it would be an earth-shattering incident. The moment her identity came to light, the competition to take her away would be fierce.
Eshula was the very monster Ron had told Adelia about—the one who grew stronger without even being taught.
As if to prove it, despite learning only the fundamentals of magic, she had raised her Circle on her own.
Even martial arts required a master's guidance to learn a cultivation method, and magic demanded at least as much—if not more. Even with heaven-sent talent, the limits were obvious without a master.
“Ahem. Is that any way to speak to your master?”
“What master? You caught a thief and forced him to teach me.”
“I caught him because you said you wanted to learn, and we couldn't exactly keep a thief as your master.”
“Damn it, why do you have to be right!!”
Five years ago, a wounded mage had slipped into the city. After taking control of the city's underworld, he had tried to recover his strength.
As everyone knew, magical materials were expensive.
To procure them, the mage raised the protection payments demanded by the organization, and that drew Ron's attention.
At the time, Eshula had begun showing talent for mana, so Ron abducted the mage, made him teach her, then disposed of him afterward to eliminate any future trouble.
In truth, it had been to complete the conditions for his independence. The Old Master was busy with his duties as a knight, so some minimum level of defense was necessary if Madam and Eshula were to be protected.
He had not expected much. He only hoped she would learn the basics properly.
But what do you know.
In less than a year, she formed a Circle, then applied the fundamentals to begin developing an arcane path of her own.
Unlike swordsmanship, the arcane path ran purely on talent. They said that at the extreme, all streams returned to a single source, but magic was a field where it was difficult even to begin without the necessary talent.
‘Unless your brain is built unusually—or you're insane—it's difficult to achieve greatness.’
Seen in that light, Eshula, with her overwhelming talent and lunatic streak, certainly had what it took to become a great mage.
Mages were classified as high-ranking from the 5th Circle onward, but even a 4th Circle mage was treated as an intermediate mage.
Moreover, Eshula had completed an arcane path of her own based on the fundamentals.
Put positively, it was an original secret art. Put negatively, it was rootless and unfettered.
Even among mages, Eshula had reached a level that made her extremely troublesome to face.
Ron had helped her gain practical experience in various ways until she reached her current realm, so it was not entirely wrong for him to call himself her master.
“By the way, what brings someone whose backside grows heavier by the day to grace my house with her presence?”
“What was the secret to making the Mata stew taste so good?”
“Is there really a secret to cooking? It's devotion.”
“Don't give me that! There's no way food made by my taste-blind mom could produce that flavor!”
Madam's one and only flaw was her cooking.
They said even a dog at a village school could recite poetry after three years, yet Madam Amelin had been cooking for over twenty years.
Beyond her lack of talent, if one traced how things had reached that point, it had all started with the Old Master.
Blinded by love, he praised everything she made regardless of whether it had any flavor. How could she ever improve?
Eshula suffered the consequences in full.
She might have been a gang boss outside, but at home, Eshula was a devoted daughter. She could never bring herself to judge the cooking her mother made with such sincerity.
It was the adverse effect of like father, like daughter.
Eshula wanted to improve her mother's cooking without trampling on her efforts.
“Whoa, whoa, calm down. Let's talk inside.”
Resting at home after work also occupied a large part of Ron's daily life. Home was the place that offered the greatest comfort.
Especially after finishing the day, lying on the sofa and eating snacks was nothing short of paradise.
Why hadn't he known this in his previous life?
Only after realizing how precious an ordinary daily life was had he finally found peace.
Eshula, who had done nothing but lose out after visiting Ron's house, grumbled. At home, using her mother as a shield brought victory in a hundred battles out of a hundred, but outside, it brought a hundred defeats out of a hundred.
“Can't you replace this door?”
“Will you take responsibility if a thief breaks in?”
“You're making too much of it.”
“Considering you're the most dangerous one, I wouldn't call it too much.”
Just look at it now. The traces of her desperate attempts to get inside while he was away were obvious. It was fortunate he had installed physical mechanisms rather than magical ones. Who could have known she was researching Unlocking Magic?
On the other hand, it was strange.
Why was she so determined to break into someone else's house?
What a strange personality.
That kind of enthusiasm for thievery was a disease in its own right. To cure it, she would need a delicate beating… counseling.
GRRRRK!
“Hah!”
Eshula let out a hollow laugh at the door's sheer weight. No matter how many times she saw it, she could not get used to its structure or weight.
Even Unlocking Magic and Weight-Reduction Magic could not open it. Moreover, the windows visible from outside were essentially nothing more than paintings. Not only did they not open, but solid stone walls stood behind them.
She had no idea where he had obtained the materials, but their durability was beyond words. To bring this house down, one would probably need to unleash multiple salvos of wide-area explosive spells of at least the 7th Circle.
“Just what are you planning to do inside that you built this place like a secret fortress?”
“A man's privacy is precious. A child doesn't need to know.”
“I'm grown too. And stop that. Your bones will rot!”
Ron gave a vague nod, then opened the door and stepped inside. In the passage, he grabbed Eshula and balanced the weight.
Eshula did not struggle.
She still got goosebumps when she remembered that one wrong step had nearly put a hole in her head.
“Even the Imperial Palace is probably less secure than this.”
“It's vulnerable to magic. If someone used Blink, I'd be helpless.”
“That still won't make me do it. Maybe if you told me the secret.”
“Protection money.”
“……That's low!!”
Ron and Eshula kept their accounts with each other perfectly clear.
The compensation Ron had paid Eshula when he left the house and concealed his strength had been considerable.
Ron had known Eshula would come.
Eshula was impatience incarnate, incapable of enduring curiosity. Judging by the fact that she had held out for half a month, she must have been trying, in her own way, to imitate a proper lady.
But what a pity.
It was too late to go back.
Ron stripped off his clothes without hesitation and took a shower.
SHHHHHH.
Such cleanliness did not suit this era.
People here rarely washed. Once the day was over, a person ought to wash whether they had sweated or not.
For Ron, who possessed a modern man's sense of smell, it was an ordeal.
‘The smell of people is far too strong.’
People should have found it strange when someone smelled, yet he was often treated as strange because he did not.
“That's an illness.”
“You're the one who doesn't wash.”
“I wash once every three days. You won't find a cleaner lady than me anywhere!”
“Haah, what's frustrating is that you're telling the truth.”
Even nobles did not wash often. Commoners needed no mention. That was why bathing as often as once every three days was something worth boasting about.
In any case, he needed to keep his daily routine whenever possible. Otherwise, even living alone, his life would fall apart.
‘No ramen.’
Only a few packets remained.
He had meant to save them, but he could not give up late-night snacks. It was instinctive human psychology. Unlike when supplies were plentiful, the hunger that came from scarcity provoked his appetite.
It was the difference between choosing not to eat despite having money and being unable to eat because one had none. It was something only those who had been poor and gone without could understand.
Ramen did not exist in this world.
Make it himself?
Even if he made noodles from wheat, he needed MSG to reproduce that flavor. How was he supposed to make artificial seasoning? He might be able to gather natural ingredients and make something similar, but he did not know exactly what went into it.
‘What the hell is nucleotide seasoning?’
Without studying food engineering or nutrition, it was unfamiliar information. In the end, even if something seemed understandable when explained, it amounted to shallow knowledge unless one researched it personally.
There was no artificial intelligence that could look up anything he asked, either.
So, on the faintest hope, he lured Eshula with ramen seasoning powder.
‘I might not be able to do it, but maybe she can?’
Although mages differed by specialty, they could basically be regarded as multidisciplinary scientists. If developing MSG was possible, it would be a true bonanza—perhaps enough to build a mountain of gold.
Of course, he did not expect much.
MSG was a culmination of modern civilization. The ingredients alone would be difficult to obtain, and there was no guarantee the flavor could be made consistent.
‘Maybe if it turns into an overnight fortune like an altcoin.’
Even building up House Leonard ultimately came down to money. Realistically, nothing could be achieved without it. If he could automatically mint money like a stablecoin, he could collect rewards day after day.
With enough luck, he might even be able to buy the entire convenience store.
However, Ron discarded excessive desire.
Tricks and greed always invited disaster and caused unintended situations. Moreover, if ramen suddenly entered the market, it was impossible to predict what sort of butterfly effect might follow. If he monopolized an item that could make money, the people around him would not remain still.
For now, he decided to proceed steadily with the work already before him.
The only problem was that he had twelve Coins left.
A few days ago, Imperial Zenith Ginseng, a miraculous herb capable of increasing stamina, had appeared in the Shop.
But on the opposite side was an all-purpose powder: four kilograms of beef Dashida seasoning. With his ramen running out, he needed beef Dashida if he wanted to reproduce that artificial flavor.
‘It doesn't have much shelf life left.’
New Shop products and Traits remained listed for only a fixed period. On top of that, the seasoning cost exactly four Coins. After agonizing over it for a long time, he bought the beef Dashida.
He could increase his stamina by raising the intensity of the Eight Extreme Hells, and relying on elixirs from the beginning could easily become a bad habit. If he turned into an elixir parrot, squawking for one at every turn, he risked suffering side effects from their misuse and overuse.
‘It's not good to depend on elixirs or Traits.’
Achievements had to be earned through one's own effort. If he simply grabbed whatever others handed him, he would not feel any sense of accomplishment.
More importantly, the Shop and Traits were privileges granted by a divine being. If the god took offense and reclaimed them, he could lose everything he possessed.
‘That was why the battle had ended with both sides ruined.’
During his decisive battle with the Demon King, the Status Window had been placed under control, preventing him from using it. Even so, the fact that he had managed to bring about mutual destruction was entirely thanks to Ron's own efforts.
That was how he secured both legitimacy and justification.
He made a clear soup.
There was no dish as simple and convenient as meat soup. It could be regarded as a commoner's hearty soup-and-rice meal.
The method was simple, but it was not easy.
If made poorly, the gamey smell remained, leaving it nauseating and fishy. Yet people of this era tended to regard even that fishiness as natural.
Perhaps that was why merely seasoning it with salt was enough for a dish to be considered a success. Moreover, their principle was that food only needed to fill the stomach, so arguing over flavor itself was treated as the whining of the well-fed.
When he thought of the people of the Joseon Dynasty who considered themselves fortunate simply to eat white rice, he could understand.
BUBBLE, BUBBLE!
After boiling the meat soup, he added the magic powder.
Dashida.
It was not easy to evade Eshula's hawk-like gaze as she watched his every move. She was determined to uncover the secret somehow. She was certainly different from those satisfied as long as their stomachs were full.
He placed the well-cooked meat and rich, steeped broth in a bowl and set it on the table. He finely sliced and added silif, an herb with a scallion-like flavor. Discovering silif had been a stroke of genius, the decisive finishing touch that completed the balance of flavor.
“Eat.”
“What trick did you pull?”
“I told you, devotion.”
“Devotion, my ass.”
Eshula lowered her expectations. It looked identical to the meat soup she ate at home. She had watched her mother make it, and even she could manage this much. She had not come all this way to visit a bastard who was practically her own brother just to taste this.
‘Like I'd give up just because of that…. Huh?’
The moment she took a spoonful of broth into her mouth, Eshula's eyes widened as though a volcano had erupted. This meat soup existed on an entirely different level from anything she had tasted before.
She had never experienced such richness or such outstanding flavor. The meat stew she had eaten before had been spicy and stimulating, but this one was clean and mild while drawing out the meat's rich, deep flavor.
Even boiling it all day would probably not produce such depth.
“How in the world did you do this?”
“Do you want to know?”
“If you say devotion, I won't let you off!”
“Devotion is the foundation. It also contains magic powder.”
He took a container smaller than his palm from inside his clothes. He had divided a small portion of the Dashida into it. Four kilograms was enough to last a year, but he had no intention of wasting any. Besides, humans were creatures capable of miracles when desperate.
“Are you giving it to me?”
“In return, I'd like you to place some security magic on the house and help the Young Lady with her training.”
“I'll do only one of those.”
“Take it or leave it.”
Even as they spoke, Eshula could not stop moving her spoon. The flavor was so addictive that she could not tear herself away through willpower alone. The remaining soup vanished in the blink of an eye, and it only ended after she had licked the plate clean.
‘Damn it, I shouldn't have done that!’
Eshula did not blush over something this minor. The two had already seen every presentable and unpresentable side of each other, and they had long since revealed too much to turn away now because one of them looked disgusting.
“This is a blended powder. You can't produce the flavor with just one ingredient.”
Ron explained what he could based on what he inferred from the label on the back of the Dashida. There was no point using words like monosodium glutamate, sodium chloride, citric acid, purified water, or yeast extract when she would not understand them.
He told her only what he knew: meat powder, vegetable powder, and salt.
The rest was up to Eshula.
“I think I might be able to make something close if things go well, but this is practically alchemy. Where in the world did you get it?”
“I don't know either.”
“You look like you do.”
“If I knew, it would already be on the market. That's why I'm saying this. If you can make even something similar, you know what that means, right?”
“Haah, damn it, ah, fuck! Are you telling me to work until my head explodes? Do you know how much money it'll cost to research this?”
“I believe in you, Eshula.”
Create something from nothing.
It was easy to say. If it were easy to do, someone would have made gold long ago. Even in the modern world, people did not manufacture gold. Why? It was possible, but the opportunity cost made no economic sense. Natural diamonds, on the other hand, had been utterly crushed by synthetic diamonds.
Research was the researcher's responsibility, and a change in perspective was important. Ron calculated the compensation fairly.
“The profits will be split seven to three. I get seven.”
“I'm doing all the research! Do you really think I'll sign that kind of unfair agreement?!”
“Can you conduct the research with only that?”
“……You devilish bastard!”
Even in the face of Ron's thieving intention to snatch the credit if she succeeded, Eshula could not bring herself to refuse.
The chance of failure was high, but success would place her among at least the ten richest magnates.
Moreover, her curiosity as a mage made refusal impossible.
With the feeling of investing in an altcoin, Ron threw the idea out there for now. If it succeeded, great. If it failed, nothing could be done. How wonderful would it feel to forget an investment made before enlisting, only to come out of the army and find it had become a fortune?
Get to work, Shula.
-Progress: -68%
Unfortunately, there was still no change in the progress.
Instead, by controlling the factors that could affect it, he could keep Eshula from slacking off or consuming the powder by herself.
Progress was remarkably effective for judging people.
If he gave someone a task and the number went negative—
‘Cut my losses.’
It was perfect as a people detector.