Chapter 102:
Canapés
JOHAN HAD DISCOVERED this small stone shack when he visited town a year ago. He passed through the doorframe, which came up only to his chest. It’d likely been designed for the dwarves living in town.
In front of him was an incredibly thick metal door that even an ogre’s punch wouldn’t budge. Something like that clearly didn’t belong inside the little shack, which contained only a table and a place to sleep, and it hadn’t been there when Johan last visited.
The wandering merchant grinned. I see. This is here to prevent rogue elements from using it.
Most of the people who entered this shack would’ve cocked their heads in confusion at the metal door. However, Johan just closed his eyes nostalgically, thinking back on the delicious booze he’d had a year ago.
At one point, I honestly didn’t think I’d live to see another day, he mused.
✦ ✦ ✦
It had all started with a single rumor that a new drink called whiskey had been developed in a far-off dwarven town; the town was several months’ journey on foot. The drink was supposedly quite strong, as dwarves preferred, and had a complex flavor different from their usual hard liquor that just burned the throat. Apparently, this whiskey was so good that it was sought out not only by dwarves but also by human nobility.
The problem was, the dwarves drank the hell out of the stuff, so it was extremely scarce. As such, leaving the dwarven town with even a single bottle cost a fortune; you couldn’t obtain enough whiskey to make a business out of it.
But Johan had smelled a chance to make money. Rich folks couldn’t resist the taste of something hard to come by. For example, the umeshu made by the Western Continent’s dwarves was the drink of choice for the royal family of the Kingdom, the largest nation on the Eastern Continent.
Furthermore, Johan loved a good drink. Every time he visited a town, he tried its local specialty. Since hearing about this new, rarely exported dwarf drink, he’d just had to taste it. At this point, he’d been on his journey for an entire month.
“I’ve finally come this far.”
Johan had at last arrived on the mountaintop; he could see the dwarven town at its base.
Since most dwarves were artisans of one kind or another, they often settled in and around mountains they could mine, so visiting their towns was a major pain for humans.
Gazing down at the town’s small stone buildings lined up with smoke coming from their chimneys, Johan realized that—at long last—his objective was at hand.
Close as he was, he was tired from his long journey, so clambering down the mountain right away seemed a bit much. “I’d love to catch my breath now, but…”
Glancing about, he noticed a small stone mountain shack. “Whoa!” The dwarves had likely built the shack as a rest spot for when they climbed the mountain.
“Hm…it doesn’t look like there’s anyone here,” Johan murmured. He tried the door’s low handle. Fortunately, it was unlocked, which made the shack the perfect place to rest. “I’ll gladly stop here awhile.”
He hitched his packhorse to a boulder, ducked into the shack, and peered around. Inside were a low dwarf-height table and, for some reason, two little beds. The shack was small, but the dwarves clearly put a lot of work into it.
After giving the place a look, Johan placed his hand on the handle of a large interior door that likely led to the rear of the shack. “Huh. What’s back there?” He opened the door to glance inside.
In the restaurant, a ringing bell heralded a guest’s arrival.
Poking his head through the door, Johan was flabbergasted. “How exactly is this in the back of a small dwarven shack?”
The “back room” was bigger than the entire cabin. Although it was evening, the space was so brightly lit that one might be forgiven for thinking it was midday.
Inside, several guests were eating. Johan saw monsters sitting among the more familiar humans and elves. Whoa… Just a sec. Sirens, ogres… Wait, is that a lamia?! Stunned, he froze for several moments in the doorway. Luckily, nobody even glanced at him, focused as they were on their unfamiliar meals.
“What the heck is this place?” Johan mumbled, at a loss.
A young woman—likely a demon—emerged from a door at the back of the dining area, handing customers the meals they’d ordered before turning to greet Johan. “Um, this is your first time here, right? Welcome to Western Cuisine Nekoya!”
“Western Cuisine Nekoya?!” Johan cried, turning toward her.
The demon girl proudly explained the restaurant to the new arrival. “Nekoya exists in a world different from the one you and I live in!”
A little while later, Johan stared at the dish names and descriptions in the menu, still unable to believe what the girl had told him. Another world…? The door that led to this restaurant apparently appeared in his world once every seven days. I see. Another world…
Aside from a few exceptions like croquettes and french fries, the menu was full of unfamiliar dishes. Under the name of each item was a careful explanation in the Eastern Continent’s language. However, that alone wasn’t enough for Johan to fully grasp the dishes.
As he flipped through the menu’s pages, the alcohol tab jumped out at him. Huh. They sell alcohol here, too. The menu contained ale, mead, and wine, which Johan was familiar with. Then he stumbled upon a familiar word. Whiskey, eh?
“Deep, rich taste,” the menu said. “Normally drunk ‘on the rocks’ with a large piece of ice in the glass.”
Considering the picture accompanying the explanation, Johan decided to order the drink. I should also get something to munch on, he thought, turning to the next page of dishes.
“Young lady,” he called. “Excuse me, but can I order?”
“Absolutely. Go right ahead,” the demon girl nodded.
“I’d like this whiskey on the rocks. And…” In addition to the otherworldly libation, Johan ordered a snack that supposedly paired well with the drink. “Could I get an order of this ‘canapé’ thing, too?”
While he waited, he quenched his thirst with the restaurant’s free water, dabbing his sweat from the climb up the mountain with the moist towel the waitress had brought out.
“Thanks for waiting!” The waitress placed Johan’s glass and plate gently on his table. “Here’s your whiskey on the rocks and canapés.”
“Wow! These are beautiful.” A flurry of colors—vibrant green, light yellow, pink meat, multicolored strips of fish, purple-black dried grapes, the sunshiny hue of butter—sat on toasted golden bread atop his pristine white plate.