With only the stars and the moon to light his way, Heinrich had already reached the limits of his own stamina. At this rate, he would run out of strength and collapse, dying alone in these wildlands without ever having accomplished the mission given to him. He tried to shake off the visions of the future that his experience in the military had given him, pushing himself to keep running across the field.
The only thing keeping Heinrich’s legs moving was the thought that he couldn’t afford to fall here. Indeed, his mission was of the utmost importance, even if it meant pushing his body well past its own limits. He had to let the others know of the huge swarm of mothmen that had appeared in the forest. Until he warned those at the castle, he couldn’t afford to die.
Just yesterday, mothmen—humanoid, moth-like monsters with four arms that lived in the Duchy’s forest—had taken to the skies in droves. Of course, Heinrich and the other soldiers had been stationed at the fortress nearby specifically to watch for dangerous monsters leaving the forest. They fought resolutely to stop the mothmen from spilling out but eventually found themselves retreating from the creatures’ poisonous pollen, sharp claws bearing down on them from the skies, and above all, their overwhelming numbers. The soldiers of the Duchy holed up in the fortress in an attempt to fight back, but the writing was on the wall.
They would soon lose.
They had to inform the castle of the dire situation and request reinforcements as soon as possible. Heinrich was chosen for this important mission because of his excellent riding skills. With a secret message to the state sealed by his commander in his pocket, he flew from the fortress during a moment’s opening that his comrades in arms risked their lives to make for him.
Heinrich was supposed to have already arrived at the castle. Instead, he was on foot, running across the wildlands connected to the Duchy. He had made one critical mistake: his horse. He had picked the strongest, healthiest horse of them all back at the fortress, but just as he was leaving, one of the mothmen managed to hit his steed with its poisonous pollen. On the way to the castle, his horse collapsed, foaming at the mouth. With no other options available to him, Heinrich abandoned his transportation, carried what he could, and ran toward his objective on foot.
However, there were limits to a single man’s stamina.
He had lost almost all feeling in his legs, having pushed himself to the very limit, and his body was now dehydrated from sweating too much. Even worse, he was hungry. When Heinrich left the fortress, he had made sure to eat his fill. One entire day had passed since then, however, and his body was running on empty. He made a grave error in choosing not to bring food in order to get his horse to run faster.
I refuse to die here!
Falling here would mean not only the deaths of all the soldiers who believed in Heinrich and were waiting for reinforcements, but also the deaths of every villager in the towns behind the fortress’s defense line. It was that incredibly heavy responsibility that kept Heinrich, the young and proud knight of the Seeleman family, running. If he kept up this pace, he could reach the castle by dawn.
The problem was that his body would likely give out on him before then.
Great God of the sea and water, give me strength!
Wanting to preserve as much energy as possible, Heinrich internally prayed to the god most worshipped in the port town he called home.
God had not abandoned him.
“Wha…!”
There was a small cabin in front of Heinrich. In fact, it was so small and dilapidated that it likely belonged to some sort of pioneer.
“I’m saved!”
If he could just get his hands on some water and food… Heinrich made his decision. The very future of the Duchy was on the line. He would acquire what he needed no matter what the cost.
Without thinking, he reached for his waist and drew the Seeleman family’s treasure: a sacred sword forged by a dwarf. It was the one thing he’d known he had to take with him when he left. Heinrich opened the fancy black door, steeling himself for the desperate acts he might have to do in order to complete his mission.
The sound of a bell rang out the moment he opened the door. Heinrich was momentarily blinded by the light from inside, especially after getting so used to the moonlight. This little cabin was much better lit than he expected.
“Welcome!”
Heinrich was greeted by a middle-aged man who was likely the owner of the building.
…He’s by himself.
There didn’t seem to be anyone else nearby. Grateful for this turn of events, Heinrich gripped the hilt of his sword and barked out his orders.
“I am Heinrich Seeleman, knight of the Duchy! As a citizen of the Duchy living in this cabin, I demand water and food! If you refuse…”
“Comin’ right up!”
Heinrich blinked rapidly. He had prepared himself to continue issuing orders but instead found that the man was more than happy to oblige.
“Feel free to sit wherever you’d like. I’ll be right back with a warm towel and some water.”
Upon looking at the man more carefully, Heinrich thought it strange that he was so well-dressed for someone living in the wildlands.
“V-very well.” All the anger was sucked out of him by the man’s casual response. Heinrich took a seat at the nearest table.
“Ah, that’s right. Sir, can you read the Eastern Continent’s language?”
“I-Indeed, I can,” Heinrich replied and nodded his head, puzzled by the question.
“Good, good. Wait just a second.”
The man then headed to the back, where Heinrich assumed the kitchen with the water jug was located.
What is this place? While waiting for the strange man, Heinrich took a look at his surroundings. This only left him further confused. Inside the room were a host of chairs with soft cushions, as well as a bunch of shimmering, beautiful tables. The whole place was oddly bright despite it being the middle of the night. On top of each table were a number of tiny glass and porcelain containers. It was hard to imagine that this was the lodgings of a pioneer: they often lived day-to-day with no guarantee of seeing a crumb of food.
“Hey! Who are you? You don’t seem like a pioneer.” Heinrich turned his attention back to the man as he walked over with a tray, a folded white cloth of some kind, a gold water pitcher, and a glass cup filled with ice and water atop it. Something was all wrong about this place. Without thinking, his tone of voice had become that of an interrogator.
“Pioneer? What are you talking about? This is the restaurant, ‘Western Cuisine Nekoya.’” The man looked at Heinrich, unsure of what he was getting at.
“A restaurant, you say? Out here?!” Heinrich raised his voice without meaning to. This had to be some kind of joke. That he even found this place was pure chance, miraculously encountered during his dash across the wildlands. Why would anybody open a restaurant in a place where they’d ordinarily get no customers?
“I’m not sure what ‘door’ you used to get here, sir, but this one right here is real special.” The master gestured to the door Heinrich had come through. “The doorbell’s got some kinda magic on it that apparently connects it to a host of different doors in your world.”
The man explained to Heinrich the concept of his “Restaurant to Another World” as if he’d done it multiple times before. It was almost as if he didn’t expect him to believe it from the get-go.
“That’s impossible!”
Heinrich’s confusion only grew deeper after hearing the explanation. Seeing this, the mysterious man let out a sigh.
“Yeah, I get it. I wouldn’t believe me either if someone told me something like that. But I can guarantee you that this is a restaurant. I can whip up anything on this menu here, so feel free to make an order.”
With that, the so-called master of the restaurant placed the menu book on the table.
“A menu? What are you talking about?”
Despite his complaints, Heinrich reached over and opened the menu the master left behind. The object’s texture was unlike standard paper or parchment: it was strangely smooth. Listed in the book were an assortment of dishes that he’d never seen or heard of.
“The penmanship is pretty good.”
Heinrich came to the conclusion that whoever authored the menu must have received a fairly good education. Each character was easy to read, and the vocabulary being used was advanced. Perhaps most importantly, each mysterious dish had an easy to understand explanation accompanying it.
“Well, anything will do as long as I can fill my stomach… Wait, what?!” Henrich’s eyes zoomed in on the description of a particular dish on the menu. Though the item was named “fried shrimp,” the description said this: “breaded and fried shripe caught in the southern regions.”
Upon reading the one sentence explanation, Heinrich forgot his surroundings. Just seeing the word “shripe” for the first time in years was enough to make his mouth water. For you see, shripe was a type of sea creature native to Heinrich’s home by the ocean. The creature was known for the hard shell that hid the soft meat of its long, thin body, as well as its large claws. Shripe were blue upon capture but would turn red after being put to flames. One could drop a dash of salt on a cooked shripe and enjoy it, or they could chop it up and indulge in some soup. The major problem with shripe was that they easily went bad. Even just transporting them to the town next door was difficult, which meant that coastal towns like Heinrich’s were the only places you could eat the delicacy. Heinrich hadn’t tasted shripe once in the years since leaving home to become a knight.
I must get a handle on myself.
The moment he thought about the sea creature, he could feel his tongue begin to recall its great flavor. The thick meat’s texture completely different from that of any beast, the salty juices that spread throughout one’s mouth upon a single bite: it was joyous. Heinrich thought back to his childhood days when he would run down the street like a commoner to buy grilled shripe with the handful of copper coins his nanny had given him.
“Are you ready to order, sir?”
“O-oh, yes. Give me this fried shrimp thing.” Heinrich’s response to the master was almost automatic. For but a moment, he remembered that this place was in the middle of the wildlands and that there was no guarantee that the food the man cooked would be any good. Still, the master said he could make anything on the menu. If that was a lie, he’d be a fraud.