The one who appeared to have sent him crashing outside was another man, also wearing an apron. This guy appeared to be in his forties. They were probably coworkers, one being the senior cook and the other a junior—or perhaps an employer and his employee.
Now, though, relations between the two of them weren’t exactly looking very good.
“Don’t ever show your face around me again!”
“Master, just…just hold on, please! I swear it wasn’t me!”
“Enough lies! I have proof!”
“I was framed! I’ve worked hard for this shop—”
“Now you’re going to lay the blame on someone else?!”
“Please wait! If you fire me, I… I’ll have nowhere to go! I won’t be able to provide for my parents, so please! Please, I’m begging you! I’ll be living on the streets!”
“And you can die there for all I care!”
With a loud bang, the door to the shop slammed shut.
The man stared balefully at it. His hairstyle—long and bright red, with one side combed back—combined with his deeply inset features gave him a noticeably stern look. He kept his words mostly polite, but the sharpness of his eyes gave him the air of a low-grade punk. Definitely more the air of a carpenter than a cook.
Also. Had I just witnessed a firing?
I suddenly had an idea and called out to the man on the ground.
Something along the lines of “Would you like to have a talk in that café?”
Which was, now that I thought about it, an incredibly suspicious-sounding invitation. But having just been fired, he was still in a daze and accepted with less fuss than I would have anticipated. You could even say he was like a zombie as he tottered after us.
We walked together to an eatery a little farther up the same road and settled into seats near the rear of the shop, with him, still in his apron, opposite me. Only drinks—hastily ordered—sat on the table.
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Sasaki.”
“Oh yes. Hello. My name is French.”
“All right, Mr. French.”
“I, umm. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Well, I happened to overhear your troubling exchange.”
“…I’m ashamed to admit it, but yes.”
After getting a look at this world, I had realized something. Just a few hours ago, I’d been overjoyed that one hour in Japan equated to one day here, but that wasn’t necessarily advantageous. During weekdays, when I was at work, more than ten days would pass in this world.
That wasn’t a time gap I could laugh away, especially if I really wanted to get something started here. Even if I came to do business during lunch breaks, several days of empty time would still pass. That would make my future dealings difficult.
What was I to do to make up for the time difference between our worlds? Obviously, I had to make some local friends.
“Excuse me, Lord Sasaki, but are you a noble?”
“A noble?”
“It’s just that you’re wearing such fine clothing…”
Oh my goodness. I just got complimented on my suit. Even this drab, bargain-rack outfit seemed fine enough that others mistook it for noble dress. Clothes really weren’t cheap here. This sort of free status boost certainly wasn’t unwelcome… I’d have to make sure I always wore a suit during my visits in the future.
“No, not a noble. I’m a merchant.”
“Oh, I see. A trader,” said Mr. French, his expression looking somewhat relieved.
Judging by his attitude, a big barrier must have separated nobility from the common folk. I’d have to ask Peeps about this when I got a free minute. I was the one being mistaken for a noble, so things had worked out—but doing it the other way around would be a terrible mistake.
“If it’s all the same to you, would you mind telling me your story?”
“Huh? Um, I…”
“I may be able to provide some assistance.”
“……”
Anyone would be suspicious of a first-time acquaintance saying something like that. I’d have left the shop already, personally.
But what he’d shouted in front of the restaurant certainly hadn’t sounded like lies—that bit about supporting his parents and having nowhere to go. He seemed to be in a very tight spot; it only took a few moments before he started spilling everything.
To sum it all up, it appeared he’d been framed by a coworker.
Having worked as an apprentice at the restaurant since he was young, his culinary skills had—by his account—been growing rapidly in recent years. A coworker of his was jealous and falsely claimed French had stolen the shop’s money—or something like that.
Then, today, his attempts to convince the shopkeeper of his innocence had fallen on deaf ears, and he’d been driven out. That was the final, decisive scene I’d happened upon.
“That is an awful story.”
“I’ve been working there ever since I was little. Everything I did was cooking, so I don’t know much about how the world works. I can’t really write, either. Now that I’ve been fired, I have no idea what to do.”
“……”
“At this rate, I won’t be able to provide for my family anymore. One of my parents lost a leg and an eye as a soldier and can’t do very much work anymore. I have a younger sister as well, but on top of being a woman, she also takes care of our parents, so she can’t save up that much money.”
“That sounds terrible.”
I could sense the hopelessness oozing from Mr. French’s tale. I even thought for a moment that if I left him alone, he might have been dead by his own hand the next day. It seemed this world had less of a social safety net than I thought.
“…I apologize. I don’t even know you, yet I’ve gone on and on…”
“No, don’t apologize. I was the one who asked.”
We had talked for close to an hour, and he didn’t seem like a bad person.
So I decided to make an investment—using the day’s profits. It may have been a lot of money in this world, but with Peeps’s support, I hadn’t had to work that hard to make it. I’d only brought one backpack of goods, too, but I planned to bring some bigger gear starting next time. To me, it was like shoving a wad of bills into a street-side donation box.
“If you’re interested, would you like to open a place with me?”
“…Huh?”
Mr. French’s pupils shrunk in surprise.
If he really was an excellent cook, this proposition would benefit Peeps and me as well. Peeps loved meat, and pursuing flavors that could satisfy his taste buds went along with his ideal of living the way he wanted to. And of course, when a pet is happy, the owner is happy, too.
With Mr. French in tow, I went back to the trading company Peeps had pointed me to. After a brief conversation with the security at the entrance, I had them announce me to the vice manager. In blank amazement, I was shown once again to the reception room from before—with Mr. Marc already present and everything.
“Is something the matter? Did you have reservations about our business agreement?” he asked cautiously. My sudden return must have made him anxious.
“No, it’s nothing like that. There was something else I was wondering if you could prepare for me, separate from that matter.”
“I see. In that case, I’m all ears.”
“Thank you.”
The vice manager smiled back at me. I used that as a chance to launch into my proposal. “This may seem abrupt, but I’d like to open an eatery in this area. Can I ask you to procure a shop, equipment, and foodstuffs for it? I regrettably have no expertise in this field myself, so I wanted to know if the Hermann Trading Company would be willing to assist in this matter.”
“We wouldn’t mind, but what of your companion?”
“I plan to make this man the shop’s manager.”
“…What?”
Mr. French stared at me agape, clearly wondering if this was a joke.
I’d already explained that much to him—had he not understood? Well, it didn’t matter. I’d already talked to the vice manager about everything, so I was set on this course. Better than him wandering the streets.
“If you could stock the equipment and foodstuffs in accordance with his wishes, it would be much appreciated. I believe three hundred gold coins would be enough to cover initial expenses. If that is insufficient for anything, I’d like to pay the difference during our next deal. Would that be possible?”
I remembered seeing on the internet that you needed at least ten million yen to start up a restaurant in the city. Because of how expensive furniture and utensils were in this world, I felt like three hundred gold coins was just barely up to the task. If things seemed tight, I could supplement the payment in our next business deal.
“…Did you want to get into the food business here?”
“No, I wasn’t planning on anything that big. And I have no intention of stirring up trouble with competitors. Some of the products I deal in are food, so I thought it would be nice to prepare a simple location to test the market.”