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Gobanyo was disappointed.

Skewers are quite a common food even in Iceland.

The method of making them is incredibly simple, so it’s no wonder.

All you do is thread the meat onto the skewer, adding vegetables or mushrooms as per your taste, and roast it over the fire. It’s a simple dish that requires no complicated techniques.

During festivals like Wintersend, a myriad of items grilled on skewers were sold at street stalls, and even when it wasn’t a festival, skewers were made everywhere in and around Coldon—on the streets, in inns, pubs, restaurants, and homes.

Thus, it’s a dish that holds no special significance for ordinary folks.

Naturally, Gobanyo felt disappointment when he heard that Karem was preparing skewers using a wyvern’s tail.

Winterhome, where he served as the exclusive chef to a powerful figure, creating numerous exquisite dishes—yet here he was, making mere skewers? Why?

Gobanyo’s feelings of mixed disappointment and curiosity remained until Karem arrived carrying a wooden box filled with a large pot and several cooking tools.

This feeling remained unchanged until the bite-sized pieces of wyvern tail, skewer-threaded, were coated with red seasoning and stacked neatly on a plate.

When expectations are low, so too are the expectations.

….szzzzz—

“…Huh?”

On the flip side, this also means it’s easy to satisfy expectations.

“What’s that smell…?”

“It’s the smell of the seasoning grilling,” said Karem.

Who doesn’t know that?

Gobanyo knew where the sound was coming from.

What he was curious about was the smell.

The copper-colored hand grill (Grill Press) packed with skewer after skewer of wyvern tails showed the seasoning bubbling as it received the heat from the charcoal stove.

With the passage of time, the spicy-sweet aroma grew stronger.

Even though he hadn’t gone close, the tantalizing scent started to push away the metallic smell that filled the forge.

Gulp.

Eating is essential in a demanding profession.

Especially for the blacksmiths competing for the hardest job.

Hot campfires.

Heavy hammers and iron.

Repetitive, simple labor.

Thanks to the ideal conditions that gnaw at both stamina and mental strength, Gobanyo had been drilled into him by his father, Gopain, that he must always eat during meals and snacks.

Of course, that didn’t mean he set a feast for every meal.

Dinner was sufficient for that.

There were also plenty of days when he couldn’t manage a meal.

It’s unavoidable when work gets busy.

During those times, he ate simply.

Bread, meat, fruit, and salted water.

That was what constituted meals outside of dinner, and what dinner sometimes turned into during busy times.

Of course, the meat and fruits were of the finest sourced from the Inner Castle, and the bread was big, soft wheat bread bought from the bakery, but due to the lack of time, the fruit would be eaten raw, the meat salted and grilled over the campfire, and the bread torn off and eaten as is.

Thus, the spicy-sweet, mouth-watering smell wafting from the skewers simmering away under the bright daylight, instead of dinner, looked incredibly appetizing.

“Karem, can I eat one of the skewers?”

“Is it okay? They’re still undercooked.”

“It’s similar to chicken, so it’s fine to eat it a bit undercooked.”

“Just be quiet and wait.”

As Karem flipped the hand grill, the oil from the wyvern meat mixed with the seasoning dripped down.

Sizzles!

The seasoning Gobanyo knew for skewered grilling was simple.

Salt, pepper, and sometimes even nothing at all.

If the meat showed signs of spoilage, it might get a splash of vinegar, but this situation was far too stimulating.

Sizzles sizzles—

The meat and seasoning slowly charred amidst the heat of the campfire.

The smell of the spicy-sweet seasoning bubbling in faint oil.

Nothing could be missed by a laborer covered in blood and sweat from hard work. It was a smell so enticing, it could drive one mad—spicy, salty, and stimulating.

The forge was filled with aromas calling for drink.

“…Should I break out the hidden beer barrels?”

“Excuse me? Daytime drinking? Aren’t you in the middle of work?”

“Right now, I don’t have much work to care about.”

But it didn’t mean he had no work at all.

Drinking during the day felt a bit burdensome for Gobanyo.

Let alone not just beer, but the strong Eisenbart beer too.

“Well, I guess it’s fine to take a little longer, right?”

“Can’t I just grill and eat it now?”

Smack. Karem lightly swatted Gobanyo’s hand away.

“Not allowed.”

“Then should I turn up the heat on the charcoal stove?”

“If you do that, they’ll be burnt before they’re cooked through! Then I’d have to thread them anew and coat them in seasoning to grill again—”

“Got it. I yield. I yield.”

“Please get me an empty plate.”

Gobanyo stepped back, holding up both palms and gazing at the skewers slowly drying out, charring and bubbling over the campfire with a hunger-filled stare, before turning away.

“I can’t say I don’t understand that feeling.”

The smell of chicken skewers wafting from the streets.

The rich aroma of chicken fat mixing with the spicy-sweet seasoning was not something any man could easily ignore. Above all, it was a smell that surely lured a man in—no, it was begging for temptation.

“Alright, it’s finally done grilling.”

And then the time Gobanyo and Karem had been waiting for came.

As the hand grill soaked in seasoning and charred with deliciousness opened, the shiny red surface of the wyvern skewers marked with an appetizing grid pattern caught the eyes of the two men.

“Okay, you can eat now.”

“Whoa, whoa! Spicy! Hah!”

Gobanyo grabbed a couple of skewers all at once, took a big bite of the steaming meat, and gasped.

However, due to Karem’s experiences fine-tuning the spiciness Iceland-style, Gobanyo continued to chatter away while munching happily.

Karem poured the skewers into the plate Gobanyo brought and continued to grill fresh skewers in the hand grill while picking one up with his free hand.

The smell of the spicy-sweet seasoning, grilled and charred.

The glistening red hue and tempting grid were too enticing.

“Wow, I made it, but it smells incredible!”

Karem followed the instincts of his current life and the memories of his past. He sank his teeth into the appropriately cooled meat from the skewer he held.

The first sensation hitting his tongue was the flavor of the spicy-sweet seasoning.

It was just like the seasoned chicken skewers he used to eat at the food stalls in his previous life.

About 95% the same.

No, maybe around 90%.

Or perhaps even 80%…?

It couldn’t be helped.

Given that the only thing resembling the seasoning recipe from his previous life was salt, and that the ketchup, gochujang, and red pepper powder used were derived from Fire Witch Finger.

Not to mention that due to thinking of Gobanyo, the spiciness had been adjusted, and the sweetness was notably stronger.

Considering that, it was about 90% similar.

Aside from a few minor differences, Karem was thoroughly satisfied with the sticky seasoning on the skewer he felt in his mouth.

As he continued to chew, tender wyvern meat flaked apart along the grain.

For a moment, he thought it was surprisingly tender, though he felt a slight resistance.

Even better. The texture was tender, shredding along the grain, and the more he chewed on the flesh, the more it released its savory goodness.

The chewiness well-matched with the spicy-sweet seasoning breathed flavor and life into the meat, which might have been seen as too dry.

For Karem, who especially preferred chicken that had a firmer texture, it was a delightful occurrence.

With every bite, the tender chunks of meat that shredded smoothly filled his mouth to the point of being dry, providing a refreshing sensation that cleared his desiccated mouth and clogged throat.

Karem’s mouth was becoming drier.

And his throat felt as if it was slowly being blocked.

“…Hmm.”

Karem glanced over at the plate piled with grilled skewers as he quickly turned his gaze.

“Wow, indeed renowned chefs are different. But…”

Already holding four empty wooden skewers, Gobanyo kept munching while tasting something with a look of longing.

Perhaps it was a bit spicy for him.

Upon looking closer, he seemed to be reflecting and contemplating his desire.

As their eyes filled with desire crossed in the air.

“…”

“…”

“You said you weren’t that busy, right?”

“For a little while?”

“Wouldn’t one drink be fine?”

“One drink. Just one drink…”

Gobanyo set his skewer down for a moment and tapped his lips.

Then, without a word, he stepped inside the forge.

Two beer mugs dangled from his fingers as he returned, and his arms bore a barrel thicker than an adult’s torso.

Glug glug glug—

Gobanyo silently handed Karem a beer mug filled with frothy white foam he’d skillfully poured.

He wanted to take that sip right away.

But before that, he had something to prepare.

“First…”

He took another three bites of the freshly retrieved wyvern skewers.

Of course, the sticky seasoning and the tender meat were savored.

His already dry and blocked throat screamed for relief.

But Karem overlooked all that and packed in the spicy-sweet flavor and the savory taste of the chicken-like wyvern meat, chewing insistently until the very last bite.

He swiftly brought the beer mug to his mouth and tilted it back.

Gulp—

One gulp. The thick, rich, and refreshing liquid quenched his dry mouth with a delightful taste more robust than dark beer.

Gulp—

Two gulps. The oncoming rush of refreshing and heavy liquid burst through the remnants lodged in his throat like a dam breaking.

Gulp—

Three gulps. The relief felt in his throat flowed into his mouth with the aromatic scent of nuts and bread rising up.

The Eisenbart beer Karem was having for the second time was as sweet and heavy as the first, yet refreshing.

“If I had my way, I’d like to down it all in one shot…”

Yet even so, he couldn’t return smelling of alcohol.

Karem dropped the beer glass with superhuman restraint.

“Grrr—!”

Gulp—gulp—gulp—

Watching Gobanyo down the beer in one go made him think about joining in…

But Karem rejected the temptation and instead picked up another seasoned wyvern skewer to grill as he finished the one he’d been working on.

“Hmm, this tastes unique.”

Alcohol isn’t merely for getting drunk; it stimulates the drinker’s appetite, awakening their palate while enhancing the depth of the dish’s flavors.

As he chewed the spicy-sweet wyvern skewers with the rich aroma of roasted nuts and freshly baked bread filling his mouth, a distinct synergy with the first skewer began to swirl around.

The texture was clearer than before.

The savory richness was enhanced.

The aroma was fuller than the first.

Bang bang bang!

“Damn you, Gobanyo! To be emitting such stimulating fragrances in broad daylight! Are you out of your mind?!”

The frantic shout that sounded like it would break down the door interrupted their mealtime.

Gobanyo, who seemed to be lost in thought with a deep sigh, frowned and slammed the plate onto the anvil.

“Damn it! We’re trying to eat peacefully right now!”

“I guess it’s someone you know?”

“Yeah. A persistent regular.”

He ran off to the door, shouting as he opened it, replying in at least an equally raised voice to match the ruckus, but that didn’t matter much.

Sizzle sizzle sizzle—

“I should’ve threaded some leeks among them too, for grilling.”

Soft flesh and a texture that was almost dry.

With the stickiness of the simmering spicy-sweet sauce enhancing its savoriness.

The fragrant scent of the embers and a glass of beer.

Nothing was lacking or insufficient, yet as he ate, he found himself suddenly craving leeks.

Since that moment in a past life, the appearance of the memory-laden street chicken skewers had changed.

Like what sold at izakayas, they had shrunk in length and size, and cooked pieces of leeks had begun appearing threaded in the grilled skewers.

For a fleeting moment, he felt displeased that the meat had shrunk.

Yet, those grilled leeks had their own peculiar flavor.

The leeks grilling up to a golden brown, absorbing the hot chicken fat and seasoning had a soft yet crisp texture, with a mild sweetness that paired well with the sticky chicken skewer sauce.

Gulp.

Feeling regret over his hasty choice, Karem put the skewers down and flipped the hand grill while moistening his mouth with beer.

“Whoa, is this incredible smell really just coming from skewers?”

“Yeah. Dammit. The sausages should be authentic, right?”

“Hah, who do you think is doing the slaughtering for the meat you keep devouring?”

Meanwhile, Gobanyo led a well-groomed, burly man with a clean-shaven face into the forge. The man carried a hefty bundle of sausages in his arms.

“Oh, so you’re the protagonist behind this smell?”

“I’m Karem.”

“Got it. They call me Buchi.”

As they were about to shake hands, Buchi paused on seeing Karem’s state and lowered the bundle of sausages next to the embers.

“By the way, Karem? Your name is the same as the famous chef?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“…Huh?”

Buchi’s eyes widened in surprise as they met Gobanyo’s, scanning him as if he were a ghost while his head tilted back in disbelief.

“Really? You were cursed and grew up?”

“Yes, that’s me. But what are those sausages?”

“Oh, um, well. He asked to bring something if he wanted to eat skewers, so I hurried over with this. They’re called Bangers.”

Bang bang bang!

“Hey! Gobanyo! What on earth is this smell?! Don’t eat alone! Share with me, too!”

“Knock it off! You’ll break the door!”

“Ugh, seriously, what’s grilling that smells this good?”

What the hell? Karem was puzzled as he looked at Gobanyo.

Gobanyo had laid down the skewer he was about to eat and rushed to the ruckus, waving his hand furiously while shouting, “If you want to eat, go back and bring something to share! If you bring something odd, you’ll find out without me saying it!?!?!”

 

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