The forest was red with the light of the setting sun. Far from civilization, in a clearing just off the wooded path, Monstro watched as open flames licked the bottom of his cooking pan. He stirred its contents with a well-worn wooden ladle as rising steam warmed his face.
On today’s menu: tomato stew with beans and potatoes. He let the pot simmer until the tomatoes grew tender and everything blended into a soup. A taste confirmed that the acidity was just right. The secret ingredient—red wine—gave the dish both a refreshing lightness and a rich depth of flavor.
Not bad, if I do say so myself. I’m sure I won’t be hearing any complaints about this one.
Monstro put the finishing touches on dinner, pouring the tomato stew into bowls and withdrawing some bread wrapped in cloth from his rucksack. The meal was ready.
Monstro called out in a small, timid voice to the three men who had been making vulgar conversation as they waited in the shade of a nearby tree.
“Dinner is, uh... Dinner is ready...” he said.
“Eh? I can’t hear you!” one of the men shot back. The anger in his voice made Monstro shrink and cower.
“M-My apologies! Dinner is ready!”
“Finally! You work slow as hell. Are you trying to starve us to death or something?!” he said.
What did he think this was, a restaurant? Monstro thought. It shouldn’t have been difficult to see that cooking at a campsite would take more time than doing so in a fully equipped kitchen. Anyone could understand that.
Although maybe not these three.
“I... I’m sorry. I’ll be faster next time,” he said. Of course, he already had been rushing, but if he didn’t want to rouse their anger further, there was nothing for it but to apologize anyways.
Monstro was traveling with the party of C rank adventurers as their cook. He left the monster fighting to them and, in return, received just over ten percent of the rewards: one gold coin per contract. Though it was his first time in their company, he had heard rumors about the band for quite some time. They were said to be hotheaded, impulsive, and violent, but also undeniably competent, completing contracts at a rate of one per week. After today’s job, they would advance to rank B.
At that level, one job could bring in around thirty gold coins per contract, meaning that, for the same work under the same conditions, Monstro could earn three gold coins instead of one. Even while covering the cost of ingredients himself, he made more money in the party’s employ than he would have at a regular job. He had to stay on their good side. Couldn’t risk spoiling his bosses’ good mood.
It was a stressful gig, no doubt, but he could endure some hardship if it meant earning good coin. If he played his cards right, he could save up enough cash to quit in a year or so and realize his dream: opening his own restaurant.
It had been four days since Monstro started traveling with the men. He was confident in his abilities, so it was no surprise that even though they had shouted all kinds of trifling complaints at him, they hadn’t once said his cooking was bad. Monstro was particularly proud of today’s tomato stew. Perhaps, he thought, they’d try a mouthful and be so happy with the result that they’d apologize for their rudeness.
“Eh? Ay, Monstro! What the hell is this crap?!” yelled one of the men, holding out his bowl.
“It’s a tomato stew with beans and potatoes...”
“I have eyes. I can see that much! What about meat, though, huh? Where’s the meat?”
“We used the last of the meat yesterday...” he said. He was too afraid to say it, but it was their own fault there was no meat left in their provisions. He had heard about the group’s penchant for flesh in advance and had, accordingly, packed plenty. There had been enough smoked meat and sausage to last. While Monstro had been cooking on the very first day, one of them had approached him and said, “That’s not enough meat! Here, this is better,” and, without asking, reached into Monstro’s rucksack to pull more out and throw it in the pot.
To make sure nobody else came and spoiled his cooking again with arbitrary corrections, from the next day onward Monstro had started using more meat. The result, of course, was that their stash of supplies had been whittled down to just bread and vegetables.
Still, he had been able to make something truly delicious out of what was left on hand. If they would just shut up and try it...
“There’s no meat?! Quit bullshitting me! How am I supposed to fight monsters if I can’t eat meat?!”
“I’m sorry, I... B-But I think it turned out quite tasty. If you tried it—”
“I’m telling you to serve us some damn meat!” he shouted before smashing his bowl on the ground and pointing into the dense woods. “If there isn’t any meat, then go hunting!”
“M-Me?”
“Cooking is your job, ain’t it?”
“Th-Then at least give me a magic item to use,” Monstro said. The only magic item he had was for starting fires. Since it was just for cooking, the item didn’t make a large enough flame to be of any use while hunting.
At Monstro’s request, the man’s face grew more and more agitated.
“You think I’d just hand over the tools of my trade to a hireling? Use your damn knife!”
“Got it? Then get the hell out of here,” said another. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you myself!”
“You’ll be damn sorry if you come back empty-handed, you hear?”
Monstro didn’t know whether it was empty stomachs or general disdain for him that caused the men to express their anger so vehemently, but he did worry that he risked getting beaten if he hung around any longer.
In fact, he had just heard them getting riled up under the tree while they exchanged crude, meaningless remarks. Remarks like “The face that hybrid made when you punched their lights out was a masterpiece!” and “I just want money, I don’t care! I wouldn’t even say shit if you rubbed my ass or fondled my chest.” Monstro wondered whether he’d been hired not so they could eat well while adventuring but just so they could use him to blow off steam.
He wasn’t a hybrid, but they treated him just as bad. These past four days, he had been completely disrespected and made a fool of. At this point, he probably wouldn’t even hit back if they struck him. If Monstro spent any longer with these men, he might have to waste his earnings on medical expenses.
“I... I understand.”