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The F-rank adventurer Ronny clutched his precious 2 copper coins tightly, a rare stroke of luck that had come his way.
Every few seconds, he would check his pocket to ensure the coins were still there.
"Finally, I can have a proper meal!"
Ronny’s eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion.
As an F-rank adventurer, he was practically treated like a vagrant. To survive, he had to endure a life lacking even the most basic necessities.
His clothes were so old and tattered they barely protected him from frostbite, and his living conditions were worse than livestock pens—eight people crammed into a five-pyeong room.
"If I take this money back to the inn, it’ll just get stolen. I might as well spend it all right now!"
Despite his miserable and impoverished life, Ronny lived each day with hope.
He believed that life’s hardships and blessings alternated, and today happened to be a rare day of good fortune.
The previous night, heavy snow had fallen in Haven.
Compared to risking one’s life as a porter or gatherer in the Abyss, shoveling snow wasn’t even a challenge.
Though the pay was low, it was work that had to be done.
Ronny had managed to secure a spot and shoveled snow with unmatched determination.
By noon, he received the promised 2 copper coins.
"What should I... what should I eat?"
Clutching the coins, Ronny looked around.
His mouth was already watering, and his stomach growled so fiercely that it hurt.
Sniff, sniff...
And then it happened. Ronny caught a scent he had never encountered before.
It smelled like stew, but such a divine aroma was something he had never experienced in his life.
“Jack’s Inn?”
Turning his head, Ronny saw the scent wafting from Jack’s Inn.
It wasn’t just him. Other passersby seemed to notice the smell too, quickening their pace toward the inn.
Ronny, as if entranced, followed the crowd into the inn.
Inside Jack’s Inn, the tantalizing aroma of stew was even stronger.
The first floor, which served as the inn’s dining area, was packed not only with customers coming in from outside but also with guests staying on the second floor who had all come down.
“Hey, Jack! What’s that smell? Did you add a new menu item?”
“I’ve never smelled anything this good before!”
Drooling, people bombarded Jack with questions.
“It’s called Arad’s Stew, made by our newly hired chef.”
“It's incredible. Absolutely incredible...”
Jack and his son, Tom, who had tasted the stew earlier, answered with dreamy, unfocused expressions, still dazed by the lingering taste.
“Arad’s Stew?”
“Oh, you mean the healer who treated Lennon and you yesterday?”
“Turns out the healer’s a great cook too?”
Customers chimed in one after another.
“How much is it? Wait, 2 copper?!”
“That’s outrageous! Who charges 2 copper for a bowl of stew?!”
The crowd frowned at the steep price of 2 copper per bowl.
"2 copper? That’s all I have..."
For Ronny, the heavenly aroma snapped him back to reality—the stew’s price was exorbitant.
In this world, a bowl of stew usually cost less than 1 copper. It was an unwritten rule, like the price of a bowl of rice in modern Korea.
“Did they mark it up because it’s made by a healer?”
“What a privilege to eat stew made by such a high-priced healer.”
All eyes turned to the kitchen, where Arad was busy preparing ingredients. Naturally, the gazes were far from friendly.
“Well, it can’t be helped. It’s because of the Arad Salt in the stew.”
“Arad Salt?”
Jack, who was nursing his injured arm and tasked with hosting duties, diverted the crowd’s attention.
“That’s right. Even at this price, we’re barely making a profit.”
His blunt response wasn’t exactly the best approach. Forcing customers to choose between buying or leaving wouldn’t work unless they were hooked after at least one taste.
“Fine. The smell alone is worth trying.”
“If it tastes bad, you’ll hear from me!”
Jack’s explanation seemed to sway a few, and several people finally ordered the 2-copper stew.
“...I’ll have a bowl too, please.”
Ronny, squeezing his eyes shut as if preparing for the worst, handed over his entire fortune—2 copper coins—to Jack.
“Great! None of you will regret this!”
Soon, bowls of Arad’s Stew were brought out and placed before the customers.
Fortunately, the portions were generous, about 1.5 times the size of stew served at other inns.
“Well, if it’s expensive, the least they can do is give us more.”
Seeing the hefty bowl seemed to ease the customers’ initial scowls.
One by one, they eagerly dug into their stew with their spoons.
Ronny, hands trembling, followed suit.
“!!!!!!”
Then, as if rehearsed, everyone froze in place, their bodies trembling.
Eyes widened, and their facial muscles twitched as if overwhelmed by an unfamiliar sensation.
It was a flavor unlike anything they had ever tasted. Gone was the unpleasant staleness they had long accepted as normal. The salty richness and umami were beyond what any salt could replicate.
The aroma, flavor, and texture—enhanced by Arad’s MAX-level cooking skill—combined into a symphony of taste that played in their mouths.
If not for this bowl of Arad’s Stew, would they ever have experienced such a taste in their lifetimes?
“...”
“...”
When emotions run too deep, words fail. Instead, people silently focused on savoring the stew, their spoons moving rapidly.
Sniff... hic.
Among them, some began to cry as they ate, moved to tears by the overwhelming flavor.
Ronny was among those silently weeping as he devoured his bowl.
++++
The rumors about Arad’s Stew from Jack’s Inn spread like wildfire throughout Haven.
“Praise be to the ancestors! For just 2 copper, we can eat something that tastes like the spices only nobles enjoy!”
“When I worked as a mercenary in the Empire, I once had food with spices by chance, but Arad’s Stew is far better!”
“They say you have to line up before dawn, or you won’t get any.”
“I heard that once you taste Arad’s Stew, you won’t be able to eat anything else because everything else will taste bland and foul.”
The rumors reached every corner of Haven.
Adventurers, mercenaries, merchants, and citizens alike flocked to Jack’s Inn.
And, as always, where there are people, trouble is sure to follow.
“I was here first!”
“Who do you think you are, cutting in line?! May our ancestors curse you!”
“You expect me, an adventurer from the Empire, to line up with these E-rank and F-rank vagrants? And now you’re telling me to share a table with them too?”
The first issues arose over lines and seating arrangements.
“We can solve this easily. Create premium seating and a royal queue. Charge five times the price,” I suggested.
The problem was resolved almost immediately.
But that wasn’t the end of the challenges.
“Arad! There are too many customers! Our inn can’t handle them all! If this continues, even the city guards will start complaining.”
Success had become its own problem.
Arad’s Salt was far too exceptional for a single inn like Jack’s to handle on its own.
“Arad, I know it’s not my place to say this to the creator of Arad’s Salt, but... maybe you should sell the recipe to nearby establishments for a price. That way, we could distribute the customers.”
“Hmmm... Someday, maybe. But not now.”
I shook my head at Jack’s cautious suggestion.
“And when exactly would that be?”
“My original plan was to sell Arad’s Salt separately by spring.”
The plan was to squeeze as much profit as possible from Arad’s Stew before selling the salt on its own. However, doing so would inevitably reveal the ingredients and preparation method.
In a world without copyrights or patents, protecting trade secrets was nearly impossible.
I intended to hold out for as long as I could.
“Spring?! Ancestors, have mercy... Arad, I don’t mean to pressure you, but we’re already struggling.”
Jack’s face showed clear frustration at my response.
He had already hired three additional employees. While I was regularly treating him with healing magic, his bandaged right arm still ached after each day.
Meanwhile, his son, Tom, was making more money than any of his peers and seemed oblivious to the strain.
“Of course, Jack, I understand your situation.”
“Don’t just understand—help me find a solution!”
“Alright. Let’s try this.”
“What are you suggesting?”
The next day, a new sign was added at Jack’s Inn:
The sign featured a large illustration of someone holding a bowl and the bold price of "1 copper."
“You mean I can get that delicious stew for half the price?! Praise be to the ancestors!”
“Grab a bowl! Quick!”
Copper coins from all over Haven started pouring into Jack’s Inn.
The takeout service resolved the overwhelming customer influx.
However, human nature being what it is, not everyone was happy to celebrate someone else’s success.
Especially when that success involved a small inn run by a retired mercenary.
“So, Jack’s Inn is doing well, huh?”
“That means they’ve got plenty of money.”
Where there’s money and people, troublemakers inevitably gather.
Soon, every scumbag and thug in Haven started swarming Jack’s Inn.
“We’ll protect you, but you owe us half your profits!”
“Those guys are worse. We’ll only charge 1 silver a day. We heard you’re selling over 100 bowls of stew a day at 2 copper each.”
“If you don’t pay protection fees, we’ll make your business a nightmare. We’ll come in every day to cause trouble.”
“Hey! There’s a rock in my stew! I broke a tooth! How are you going to compensate me?!”
From demands for protection fees to fraudulent complaints, trouble brewed constantly.
Though Jack had been a renowned mercenary in his prime, age and injuries had caught up with him. Facing these pests daily was exhausting.
“Hand over all your money!”
By the time the inn closed and the last guests had left, even robbers showed up.
“Who do you think you’re messing with? You want to die?!”
“These lowlifes must have lost their minds. Let’s deal with them!”
Fortunately, the adventurers and mercenaries from the North staying at Jack’s Inn dealt with the troublemakers and thieves.
But relying on them every time wasn’t a sustainable solution.
“Should we hire guards?” Jack eventually suggested.
“Why waste money hiring guards?” I objected.
“But, Arad, if this continues, something serious will happen.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”
“...?”
Having run a business on Earth, I always had a strategy. This time was no different.
The next day, another message was added to Jack’s Inn’s signboard, accompanied by an illustration of city guards and officials enjoying bowls of stew:
Despite the high illiteracy rate in this world, news of free food spread quickly and accurately across Haven.