The tavern doubled as an inn, so it was always crowded.
Travelers and adventurers of all kinds stopped by, and every sort of gossip found its way onto people's tongues.
For them, this was the sort of place where, so long as there was drink and food, they were always ready to spin tales of valor. Naturally, their lips grew endlessly loose.
"Here's the food you ordered."
One group of adventurers grinned as they watched Blund serve them.
"Blund's cute today too."
"Well, she is this inn's poster girl. But say... you're not into that sort of thing, are you?"
Blund, who was just beginning to grow into adulthood, was quite the pleasant sight for middle-aged men worn down by adventure.
The way she worked so hard despite not being able to see made them smile like proud fathers.
But among men like that, there were always a few with uglier thoughts.
His companion was looking at him with obvious suspicion, as if wondering whether he was one of those types, so he hurriedly defended himself.
"Idiot. She may still be small now, but when she grows up she'll be an incredible woman. I'm just making sure she remembers me early."
"Give it a rest. You think you're the only one with that idea?"
"What's wrong with dreaming? We're adventurers. Chasing dreams is what we do."
"Chase all you want, but a poster girl always has fans. If you don't want dozens of adventurers pelting you with abuse, you'd better be careful."
When he jerked a thumb behind him, several other adventurers were glaring over with murderous eyes.
"Eek. That's terrifying."
"Besides, you know, right? Blund likes Mr. Momon."
"That jet-black adventurer?"
"You didn't know? It's painfully obvious, too."
"I had no idea."
Jet-Black Momon.
He was a fairly famous adventurer around these parts.
Rumors said he had split a gigantic monster in two with a single slash, knocked a monstrous bird from the sky with the force of his sword swing, and even severed the head of a troublesome dragon that had plagued the region.
He was said to be a man of fine character as well, and one of the stories that best represented him was how he had gone alone into places overrun with monsters and brought back survivors.
The tales were hard to believe, but every one of them was true, or so others who had been there testified.
They called him a hero.
"To adventurers, Momon is a living legend more than dead figures like Lady Flamme or Ainz. I don't know why he isn't called a Hero."
"Those are legends I heard back in my father's day. Hard to believe he's still active. He should be past retirement already."
"Considering adventuring is usually a profession for people chasing one big score, it really doesn't make sense."
It wasn't as though no one went adventuring in old age, but by then they were merely veterans. Once their muscles had withered, their prime as warriors was effectively behind them.
"Who knows? Maybe he's handsome under that helmet. Or maybe the name Momon is actually inherited. I mean, nobody even knows what his face looks like, right?"
"If not that, maybe he's an elf."
As the adventurers indulged in their wild fantasies, a man sat down at the table beside them.
"I'd like to hear that story in a little more detail."
His voice was stern and disciplined, unlike their rough speech.
Men who had made their living in this line of work could tell from the accent alone. That man was not one of them.
The adventurers glanced sidelong at the guest beside them.
They were flushed with drink, but they were still capable adventurers, and they could sense the aura a person gave off.
After all, adventurers were not here because they were strong, but because they had survived.
To them, that man felt like a towering wall.
At a glance he looked like a warrior, yet by his clothing he was dressed like a cleric.
Still, if one had to name his most striking feature...
Yes. His ears were very long.
*
After deciding to carry on Flamme's will and live as an adventurer, Ainz had been wandering the world under the name Momon.
The name Ainz had grown too famous. Using it drew too many eyes.
And so the days passed in repeated journeys, his identity concealed.
In that flow of time, where brief encounters came and went, this one moved more slowly.
By the time the sun had set and the city's lights had begun to dim, three people sat gathered in the tavern kitchen, talking beneath a sign that said the establishment was closed.
Momon said, "A cooked patty placed between slices of bread, with lettuce, cheese, and pickles, then covered with bread again—that is called a hamburger. If the ingredients suit each other, a cook can swap things in and out however he likes. Well? Can you make it?"
Hearing that, Reka began writing down the new form and ingredients in the notebook he carried, already filled with various recipes.
"So there was a method like that. Why had I never thought of it? Just wait a moment. I'll make it at once."
In an instant he turned back into the kitchen, prepared the ingredients, and lit the fire.
Watching him, Ainz found himself thinking that perhaps this was what people meant by a modern cheat. It was a strange feeling. Still, everything he knew came only from things he had encountered through the internet. He did not actually know what it tasted like.
"There, finished."
"Wow! It smells amazing."
The hamburger he had whipped up in no time was offered not to Ainz, but to Blund seated beside him.
"How do I eat it?"
"Hold it with both hands and bite into it."
"So you eat it with your hands. Utensils are really hard for me to handle, so I'm glad it's something I can touch like this."
When she pressed the bread with her fingers, it sank softly.
Gulp.
Saliva gathered in Blund's mouth. Since her senses other than sight were so keen, the hamburger must have seemed like an irresistible delicacy.
After familiarizing herself with the shape of the bread in her hands, she easily brought it to her mouth.
At the first bite, the rich sweetness of the special sauce and meat juices mixed together and spilled across her tongue.
It made clear just how little Reka had held back in his ingredients, all in the effort to test how high he could push the limits of flavor.
And on top of that, Blund's reaction whetted the appetite all the more.
"Mmm~"
Her body trembled as though she could hardly bear it.
*She really eats with gusto.*
This relationship, made up of Momon the idea man, Reka the maker, and Blund the consumer—
At a glance it looked as though only Blund was benefiting, but Ainz gained something from it too.
Watching Blund gather the sauce running down her chin and slurp it into her mouth made him feel full even without eating.
But after finishing the cooking and wiping his hands on his apron, Reka chided her.
"I'm glad you enjoy my food, but swallow more slowly. You'll make yourself sick at this rate. I don't want people saying I killed someone with my cooking."
"If I don't eat a lot now, it'll feel like a loss. I don't want to regret it later and think I should've eaten more."
Ainz could understand that to some extent. He had found Blund during the time when monsters were overflowing and an entire village had been forced to flee.
In a place like that, it could not have been easy for a blind girl to survive.
The first time he had seen her, she had been starving in a cave with a dog in her arms. That alone was enough to make her understand how precious food was.
"You're hopeless," Reka said.
Since he knew her circumstances as well, he could not bring himself to scold her any further.
"Still, I'm always grateful. You make such delicious meals for me."
"Well, of course. A genius chef made them. Though I did get a little... no, a lot of help from Momon."
"I only told you stories I'd heard. You're the one who turned them into something real, Reka."
When he rescued Blund and returned to the group of survivors, that was when he met the wandering cook Reka.
Even though his arm had been bitten by a monster and was still being treated, the moment he saw the gaunt girl, he paid no mind to his own condition, pulled out the pot strapped to his back, and immediately started preparing food. Ainz had thought him a fine man.
After finishing the hamburger with cheerful little bites, Blund said, "Oh, right. I should tell Mr. Momon about how I went to magic school today."
"Ah, Blund, you said you've been going to school lately, didn't you?"
"Mr. Reka! Not school. Magic school."
That was right. Lately, she had been attending a magic school.
After the Empire permitted magic to be used for military purposes, magic had begun to spread among the public, and it seemed schools specializing in it had started to appear.
It had not been established long, so rather than a proper academy it still felt more like a small hall, but even that was remarkable progress.
In time, later generations would grow and it would become larger still.
Ainz could have taught her magic himself, but he sent her to school anyway because it was far better for her emotional development.
"The only reason I can learn magic like this is because of you, Mr. Momon, so I have to show you results."
"You're working hard."
Having learned all too well, back on Earth, how important education was, he dearly wanted her to stay in school. So he spared no expense in supporting her financially.
*I really do feel like some benevolent old patron.*
Blund opened her hand.
"This is what I learned today."
Then a staff appeared in midair.
Not in her hand, but above her head.
"Ow!"
The staff dropped straight down and struck her on the head, but she still managed to grope for it and pick it up from the floor.
"So what you learned was how to summon a staff? Certainly, what you have now is enough, but with a staff, even if you can't see, you'd be able to move with greater precision. The more means you have, the better. A wise choice."
Blund did not possess the natural genius of the mages Ainz had met, like Frieren or Flamme, but if she continued to grow, she had the makings of an excellent mage.
A staff was both a tool for those who could not see and a support for finding one's way. If she could build that image strongly enough, she might even be able to create magic that could replace sight.
As he was thinking that, Blund waved her hand.
"N-no, that's not it. This is what I learned!"
A flower bud began to form in the air, and petals unfurled.
"This is..."
"It's magic that makes a flower field. Though I can only make one flower, so calling it a flower field is a bit much. Hm? Mr. Momon?"
Sensing that Momon had gone completely still, Blund tilted her head.
"Mr. Momon? Hello?"
She called to him several times, but no answer came.
*To think the words magic that makes a flower field would come from Blund's mouth.*
*How nostalgic.*
It was a long bond, stretching all the way from the distant past.
"My apologies. I was lost in old memories for a moment. It was a kind of magic a friend of mine liked."
"That's okay. Hehe, more importantly, what a coincidence! I liked this magic too. The moment I saw it, it just grabbed me."
"Why do you like it?"
At those words, the image of young Flamme overlapped with her.
"Well... because you can use it for food."
Smiling, she plucked a petal from the flower in her hand and sucked at the inside.
"There's honey in it. It's delicious!"
*For eating?*
The mouth inside his helmet fell open.
He had never imagined anyone would think of flowers as emergency rations.
Just then, a man's voice came from behind them.
"What splendid magic."
A man walked over, pulled out the chair beside them, and sat down.
"You said your name was Momon, yes? Aren't you going to eat?"
The man in clerical robes pressed the question in an easygoing voice.
Reka, who had been handing Fuehrer a dish made from leftovers, shouted, "Momon doesn't eat with us for religious reasons. More importantly, priest, the kitchen's already closed for today! I'd like you to head back outside."
"Religious reasons, hm? There's nothing in the holy scripture of the goddess that says one must eat alone."
"Did you just ignore the part where I said we're done for the day?"
"Ha ha ha."
Laughing, the man held out his hand.
"My introduction is overdue. I am Kraft. A monk."
The hand he extended bore obvious traces of long years of training.
Most striking of all were the ears he seemed to have no intention of hiding.
*An elf. It's been a long time since I've seen one besides Serie and Frieren.*
Elves were synonymous with magic.
The longer they lived, the more likely it was for a monster like Serie to be born among them.
Given his experiences so far, Ainz had not had especially good first meetings with elves, so he decided to be cautious beyond caution.
In his perfect warrior state he could not use magic, so he used a hidden item on his body to judge whether there was magic on that hand, mixed in several layers of false information, stacked protective spells on himself, and only then slowly took it.
"Momon."
"A pleasure to meet you."
The moment their hands met, he felt it.
Heavy.
And there was no magical measure on the hand at all.
This man was simply, purely, physically exceptional.
*This elf is strong.*
Perhaps it was a different kind of strength altogether, one that could even be compared to Serie.
It was the beginning of a new story, and another meeting with an elf.
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