Episode 3 - Bloody dinner show 3

By the time the waiter and chef hurriedly arrived carrying plates of food, the bodies and equipment piled in the corner had already vanished.


All that remained were two large, blood-soaked leather pouches placed near the entrance.
It was clear the bodies and equipment had been roughly stuffed into the sacks separately.


“Here... is your order.”


The chef's trembling voice strained to steady his hands as he set down the dishes.
His precious restaurant reduced to this.
The five gold coins he'd just received seemed like a price worth paying.


In the space filled with a horrific, blood-curdling stench that threatened to destroy one's sense of smell, the murderer calmly picked up his fork and knife and began his meal.


The chef and waiter carefully placed the requested kitchen knife on the corner of the table and hurried back to the kitchen.
They couldn't be certain how the knife might be used if his mood were to sour.


Left alone, the murderer greedily stuffed large chunks of steak, cut from several pieces served on a single platter, into his mouth.


A short while later.


Reluctantly drawn by the sound of coins dropping, the waiter crept out to find the sack and the murderer already gone.


All that remained was a pile of silver coins left on the blood-soaked table.
It seemed the meal had been paid for precisely, down to the last coin.


Normally, seeing the gleaming silver coins would make his eyes light up. He would sweep them up with his hand and pour them into the sack tied to his waist. But this time, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it.


If he retrieved those sticky, half-adhered silver coins glistening on the table coated in blood and flesh, his precious tip sack would surely end up drenched in blood too.


Thinking he needed to wash up in the kitchen, he desperately picked up the coins one by one with his fingertips, gathering them in his palm. Suddenly, the entrance door burst open.


“My apologies. I forgot the gratuity.”
“Huh?!”


The murderous butcher waved his kitchen knife and entered again!
The waiter, so startled he nearly wet his pants, stumbled backward.


“Here you go. Sorry I can't give you much.”
“Eh, yes?!”


Finishing his words, the murderer first flicked the kitchen knife upward as if brushing it off, then with his other hand flicked two silver coins into the air with a flick, swept them back down, and simultaneously threw them with force.


Two silver coins, tracing a flash of silver, flew in an instant and embedded themselves with a thud into the wall behind where the waiter had been standing.
그 직후, 먼저 던진 부엌칼이 포물선을 그리며 그가 동전을 꺼내고 있던 테이블 한가운데에 꽂혔다. 


입에 거품을 물고 쓰러지는 웨이터를 아랑곳하지 않고, 살인자는 곧바로 등을 돌리고 사라졌다. 


웨이터의 뺨을 스친 은화는 날카로운 두 개의 상처를 남겼고, 그곳에서 약간의 피가 흘러나왔다. 


그는 


근처 골목길에서 굴러다니는 허름한 수레를 아무렇지 않게 끌어와 자루 두 개를 싣고는 길을 따라 끌고 가기 시작했다. 


평소 싸움이나 범죄로 가득 차 있던 거리는 그가 지나갈 때마다 조용해졌다. 


아마도 그의 끔찍한 모습 때문이었을 것이다. 온몸이 피투성이였고, 머리카락에는 살점이 붙어 있었다. 
아니면 어깨에 얹힌 식어가는 눈알 때문이었을지도 모른다. 


식사를 마친 후, 그가 가장 먼저 향한 곳은 정육점이었다. 


그는 갑자기 피로 붉게 물든 자루를 움켜쥐고 문을 열고 들어갔다. 마치 하루를 막 시작한 듯 흐트러진 모습의 건장한 주인이 그를 맞이했다. 


"어서 오십시오. 무엇을 도와드릴까요?" 
"사러 온 게 아닙니다. 팔러 왔습니다." 
"네?" 


정육점 주인은 약간 당황한 표정을 지었다. 
그는 이미 옆 마을 목장과 계약을 맺어 꾸준히 고기를 공급받고 있었기에 개인에게는 고기를 팔지 않았다. 


"제가 가져온 소고기를 사주셨으면 해서..." 
"그건 어렵습니다. 이미 목장과 계약을 맺었거든요..." 
"그건 문제가 되네요... 제가 이 고기를 얻기 위해 얼마나 고생했는데..." 


서서히 정신을 차리던 정육점 주인의 표정은 그에게서 풍겨 나오는 익숙하면서도 어딘가 불안한 피 냄새에 굳어버렸다. 도대체 


어떤 소를 도축했길래 온몸이 피로 범벅이 되어 있고, 양념이 온통 묻어 있는 걸까? 
게다가 그의 예민한 후각은 경고음을 울리고 있었다. 
평소에 맡던 동물의 피 냄새와는 확연히 다르다는 것을 감지한 것이다. 


"도대체 그 소는 어디서 구하셨습니까? 설마… 훔친 건 아니겠죠?" 


남자는 질문을 던지며 분위기를 살폈고, 고개를 저으며 특유의 부자연스러운 미소를 지었다. 


"절대 아닙니다. 그런 번거로운 일은 신경 쓰지 않습니다. 방금 도축한 신선한 소고기입니다. 믿으셔도 됩니다." 
"아니, 그래도… 이 근처에는 목장이 없는데요…" 
"믿지 않으시겠다면 어쩔 수 없죠. 다른 곳을 찾아보셔야 할 겁니다." 


뜻밖에도 그는 망설임 없이 돌아서서 자루를 끌고 나가려 했다. 
하지만 식은땀이 그의 등줄기를 타고 흘러내렸다. 


출구를 향해 발걸음을 옮길 때마다 온몸의 털이 쭈뼛 설 정도로 불안한 기운이 느껴졌다.그의 뇌를 찔렀다.


He realized it was similar to a killing intent, but something even more unsettling and unnerving.


As a native of the Mercenary Kingdom, his instincts were always right.
And those instincts were screaming at him now.
If he refused this man now, something bad would surely happen later.


“...Wait, just a moment. I need to confirm one thing.”
“...?”


The man slowly turned around as the shopkeeper reached out to stop him.


“Is... that really freshly slaughtered beef...?”
“Yes. Freshly slaughtered. Less than an hour ago.”


The shopkeeper swallowed hard.
He vaguely sensed the situation based on his suspicions alone, but his gut feeling forcefully overrode it.
If his suspicions were correct, the man before him was...


“Ahem, may I... take a look?”
“Go ahead.”


The man readily approached again, opening the sack's mouth to reveal its contents.
The moment the shopkeeper cautiously leaned in to peer inside, a thick, pungent smell of blood hit him.


No matter how many times he smelled it, it was definitely not the scent of ox blood.
Cold sweat trickled down his back, intensifying as tension stretched taut.


The shopkeeper secretly slid his right hand under the counter, gently gripping the hilt of the short sword always hidden on the lower shelf.


From here on, even the slightest misstep could cost him his life.
Judging by the size of this sack, it was definitely not just one or two people.
At least fifteen. Maybe even more...


Strangely, it didn't turn his stomach.
Perhaps because his profession had made him accustomed to the smell of blood and the cut of meat.


After pretending to assess the meat's quality, he straightened his posture.
Once he covered the sack again, the shopkeeper had to make a decision.


Based on his own convictions and conscience, would he confront him about the meat, or pretend not to notice and proceed with the transaction?


Choosing the former would surely make the man before him... the murderer reveal his true nature, and he wasn't confident he could win.


This was a man who had casually killed a dozen people, skinned them, and then calmly brought the meat to the butcher shop to sell as beef.
This alone made the thought of fighting this man retreat deep into his heart.


But turning away and buying this meant not only paying him a considerable sum upfront, but also risking the worst-case scenario: this murderer returning for another identical transaction.


“To procure this much meat... your skills are quite impressive. If it's alright, I'd like to at least know your name. Would that be acceptable?”


He asked the question to buy time to think and to prepare more testimony about this murderer for the constabulary later.


He tilted his head slightly, seeming to ponder for a moment,


“...Kaftin. You can call me Kaftin. So...are you satisfied with the quality of the meat?”
"Ah. Truly freshly caught...color. And... the cutting technique looked excellent too."


The shopkeeper's eyebrows twitched as he found himself unexpectedly critiquing the meat in the sack.
Just having this conversation felt like his heart was burning.


Even though he was running a business in this filthy alley, he had once lived as a mercenary with considerable skill.


Though he made his living as a mercenary, a life lived by the sword, he prided himself on never having done anything shameful enough to make him hang his head before the heavens.


“......”
“Why the hesitation? If the quality suits you, it's worth buying, isn't it? Meat like this isn't common, you know?”


Just as the shopkeeper, having finally decided to let conscience prevail, quietly reached to draw the hidden short sword from its sheath beneath the shelf,


Clang!


Kaftin suddenly slammed his hand down on the counter where the sword was concealed, closing in swiftly.


“...Hey. Why are you trying to take out that metal rod underneath? You don't think the meat I'm giving you is enough, do you?”
“......!”
“This is troublesome... Very troublesome....”


Twenty years as a mercenary. Eight years as a butcher shop owner.
The shopkeeper froze, realizing he'd never felt this way before in his life.


He prided himself on having seen a great deal, but absolutely... absolutely, he had never encountered anyone like this man, Kaftin, standing before him.


His voice seemed intended to be a whisper, yet it carried with the volume of an ordinary person speaking normally, booming and resonant with a peculiar resonance that clung to the mind, refusing to fade.


The pitch was smooth and slippery, enveloping the ears in a pleasantly soothing sensation. Yet beneath it lay a palpable aura of emptiness and something unsettling—a presence akin to a killing intent, but far more vile and repulsive.


If demons existed, wouldn't they be like this?
No, perhaps this man himself was that demon. He genuinely believed it.


“I'm sorry, but even though I run a business in a place like this... I...”
“Right, you said the meat was insufficient?”
“...What?”
“Don't worry. I should be able to add at least one more portion.”
“......!”


The shopkeeper, feeling this as a declaration to kill him, immediately drew his short sword with a clang and raised it, aiming to stab at the back of his neck. But as if waiting for this moment, his large hand grabbed the sword-wielding hand and slammed it down onto the counter with a thud.


“Gah... Ugh?!”
“Now, now, calm down. You have to hear the whole story.”
“You... you murderous bastard...! Let go of this thing!”


Suddenly, his eyebrows twisted, and for the first time, his previously expressionless face contorted slightly.


“Hey.”
“Let go! I won't talk to a vile creature like you...!”
“Hey...!”


As the pressure on his hand grew stronger, the shopkeeper finally quieted down, groaning in pain.
Only then did the grip loosen slightly.


“...When someone tells a story, you should listen to the end. It's not right for a merchant to act like that.”
“I... ugh!”
“It's not like I'm saying I'm going to slaughter you, is it?”
“...Then you're going to drag someone else here and kill them!”


Gritting his teeth, he tried to break free again, but despite his own well-trained strength, Kaftin's grip didn't budge an inch.


“Hahaha... ‘Kill’? You should choose your words carefully. The word you're looking for is ‘slaughter’.”
“...! You vile bastard...!”
“Besides, it won't even take much effort to find them.”
“Shut up!”
“Seeing you deliberately running a shop and holing up in a place like this... you must have a ‘spouse,’ right...?”


The moment he saw that unnatural smile spread across his face, the shopkeeper froze solid in place.


“You... you bastard...! Who do you think you are, taking my wife...!”
“Let's see...”


Ignoring the shopkeeper's flailing, he began scanning the area.
Soon, he spotted a staircase tucked into the corner of the space where the shopkeeper stood and pointed towards it.


“This building... from the outside, it clearly looks like three stories. What's upstairs?”
“......!”
“I think it'd be fine to go up and check... what do you say?”


Finally unable to hold back, the shopkeeper swung his free fist with all his might, slamming it hard into his face.


But….


A dull, thudding pain spread through his fist and arm, as if he had struck a steel beam wrapped in cured leather. He staggered immediately.


“Gah?! You, you bastard! Are you an Aura Skin?!”


This demonic bastard is an Aura Skin?
How absurd reality can be.
To think such a high-level Aura Skin user's talent is possessed by this insane murderer.


-To be continued-