CH 10. Origin Unknown (1)
Since I devoted myself to martial arts in this life, money naturally followed.
I spent that money without hesitation on quality ingredients. Looking back, aside from buying a house and a car, most of my expenses went toward food.
For a martial artist, the body is their greatest asset.
It’s not that I’m picky about taste, but since this food fuels my body, I scrutinized every detail.
Over time, I realized my sense of taste was unusually sharp.
Whether due to my dietary habits in this life or my heightened sensory stats, I could tell at a glance this beef wasn’t from Vertisan. The color was slightly off, and the marbling ratio was wrong.
The difference was obvious visually—and would be even clearer when eaten. Riu, oblivious to this, drooled as he moved to place the meat on the grill.
“Riu, wait.”
“Why?! What’s wrong now?”
“This is fake.”
“Fake?! Don’t disrespect good food like that!”
“It’s probably Weijisan.”
If Vertisan is the highest grade, Weijisan sits one tier below. Though just a single grade lower, the gap is massive. To be precise, it’s a cheap imitation of Vertisan.
“This is Weijisan? I can’t tell.”
The guards wouldn’t know either. To them, it’s all the same.
Beef is already a luxury—how could ordinary people discern the taste of premium cuts reserved for places like the presidential palace?
“My eyes don’t lie. They’re selling counterfeits.”
“Hmm… Does it matter? Once it’s in your stomach, isn’t it all the same? Let’s just eat. I’m starving…”
“It’s unfair to pay Vertisan prices for a fake. Correcting this is a consumer’s right.”
“Typical noble mindset. On the streets, unfairness hits you a dozen times a day. That’s why we hustle to be the con artists, not the suckers.”
“Stand straight. We’re legitimate customers.”
“Uh… Fine. I don’t get your plan, but I’ll play along.”
An employee who’d been eyeing us approached. We’d locked glances several times as he glared. He knocked on the table twice, his face twisted with disdain.
“Excuse me, could you finish up? Other customers are waiting. You’ve only ordered one portion and are hogging the table.”
Unbelievable. Selling fakes and rushing us?
I’d planned to resolve this calmly, but now? They’ve scammed customers for profit—time to pay up.
Starting with me.
“Hey! Are you ignoring me? Too cheap to eat properly?”
“This isn’t Vertisan.”
“…What?”
“I ordered Vertisan beef. Correct the order first.”
“Ha! Know where you are? This isn’t some street stall for your nonsense!”
“I’ll only speak to the owner.”
The employee smirked, scanning the room before leaning in to whisper menacingly:
“Disappear quietly if you want to live.”
“Oh no, I’m terrified,” I deadpanned.
“Keep yapping, and you’ll die ugly. Leave.”
“Call. The. Owner.”
“Hah! Beggars these days have no fear.”
“If we make a scene, your boss will love that, right?”
The employee’s face stiffened. He bit his lip and stalked off.
Minutes later, he led Riu and me to the restaurant’s back. I didn’t need to follow, but to catch a tiger, you enter its den.
“Brought them, boss.”
In a cramped backroom, burly staff clutched sharpened knives—standard for a butcher’s joint. A portly man at the center barked rudely:
“So you’re the brats causing trouble?”
“You’re the troublemaker. Selling fakes.”
“Hahaha! Gutsy kid, but learn your place.”
Behind him, employees brandished blades. I leaned in, unflinching.
“Pick a fight, and who dies? You or me?”
“Wow. Delusional and cocky.”
As tension spiked, a trembling Riu stepped forward, voice shaking but defiant:
“Y-You fools! Know who this is?! He took down Icas! Think you’re tougher than him? Huh?!”
“Icas?!”
Recognition flashed. One worker whispered urgently, and the owner’s eyebrow twitched.
“So… the rumors about Icas losing to a beggar are true.”
“Underestimating people invites disaster. How long will you keep this pathetic act?”
“Tch!”
At the owner’s signal, knives vanished. I hid my surprise—Icas’s name alone did that? His rep must be bigger here in this small city.
“Hah… What’s your move, kid?”
“Compensation. Fairly.”
“Or?”
“I report you for fraud. Or dismantle this place.”
“Fraud?!” He wheezed with laughter. “Who’ll believe you? The mayor?”
“Maybe.”
“As if Mayor Mota would listen to a brat!”
Of course not. The mayor was clearly in their pocket. How else had this scam thrived?
“I never claimed to sell Vertisan. Customers assumed. Where’s the fraud?”
…He had a point. Even Riu had ordered “one portion,” never specifying Vertisan. The menu didn’t list it either.
“Z-Zed… Let’s go,” Riu whispered, panic rising. “We’re outmatched.”
But retreating without proof? No. I mirrored the owner’s logic:
“So you never lied?”
“Obviously.”
“Then I’ll clarify things. Tell everyone this is Weijisan.”
“…What?”
“If it’s just a ‘misunderstanding,’ fixing it should be fine. Right, upstanding businessman?”
The owner’s smirk died.
“……”
This jerk’s shooting off his mouth. Back in my world, failing to label a product’s origin is illegal too.
"...What do you want from me? You’re making this fuss because you want something, aren’t you?"
"Start with the advance payment you took."
The owner flung five gold coins as if to say, Take this and get lost.
Liu scrambled to collect them and tried to leave, but I had other plans.
If I’d wanted to end things here, I wouldn’t have stirred the pot.
"One more thing."
"What now?! I refunded you fair and square! Take the money and go!"
"You owe compensation for trying to cheat me with wordplay."
"Bullshit! Since when does that law exist?!"
"It does. Emotional damages."
"You’re unbelievable…!"
The owner bit back his rage, too cowed to retaliate. My recent victory over that famous brawler must’ve bolstered my rep.
Sigh... "Fine. Name your terms. But if you backtrack later, I won’t hold back."
"Free beef for us indefinitely. Plus cash equivalent to what we eat—at Verti Mountain prices."
"What?! Free meals and payment?!"
"Glad we understand each other."
"You motherf—!"
His face flushed volcanic red. I hadn’t known human skin could reach that shade.
My demands were outrageous, but he had no options. Force wouldn’t work, and rumors could tank his business.
Negotiation’s hell when you’re out of moves.
He’d swallow worse terms to avoid ruin. Better to appease me than risk scandal.
As a reasonable man, I’d call this mercy.
A guy’s gotta eat.
"Weiji beef isn’t poison. Bring five portions first—I’m starving."
"......"
I rose, ignoring his sputters. When I reclaimed our table, Liu stared at me like I’d hung the moon.
That night, we demolished ten beef servings.
Absurd, right? Stuff your gut with steak, print money.
They call this the creative economy.
Next morning, and the next.
Liu’s first words each day: "Let’s get beef."
But we avoided the place for three days.
Simple logic:
Leave escape routes when cornering prey. Cause just enough chaos, not catastrophe.
Besides, we had funds. This city overflowed with nutrient-rich foods—Weiji beef wasn’t essential.
"You never stop working out, do you?"
"Force of habit."
"Why sweat like some brute? You’re a mage. Don’t you lot despise exertion?"
True enough.
Mages mock knights’ sweaty training as barbaric. We cultivate mana through meditation—refined souls cross-legged in climate-controlled chambers, not meatheads grunting in dirt.
Hence Liu’s confusion.
"Training your body because you can’t use mana? Like knights?"
"Something like that."
"Ah…"
Why that pitying look?
Even a magicless failure has S-tier traits…
Still no progress.
Abandoning mana wasn’t an option. That’d be a knight discarding his sword—career suicide here.
My status screen still read [Mana: 0], no matter how often I checked.
Maybe I’m cursed. Bridging 0 to 1 might be creation from void—slower than tectonic shifts.
But that first point’s everything. Growth accelerates after.
I racked the weights, clinging to hollow optimism. The muscle burn felt clean, at least.
"Zed! I’m starving!"
"Post-workout meal time."
"Where? Potato salad? Chicken stew?"
"Beef. It’s been a while."
"Finally!"
Three days was enough cooling-off period.
Our funds had taken hits from renting decent digs and gym gear.
Liu practically floated ahead of me outside, steps springy. Less excitement for steak than for profit, I’d bet.
What’s he hoarding cash for?
As our local expert, Liu handled all errands—evading guards to buy equipment and supplies.
He claimed fair prices, but the math didn’t add up. After ten gaming years, I know market rates.
If he’s not overcharging, he’s skimming.
"Liu, our gold?"
"Nearly gone. This city’s pricey."
I nodded.
Burning 50 coins in three days? You’d need to literally burn them. Thinks noble blood means fiscal naivety.
I play dumb about his embezzling—no betrayal signs yet.
Not that I care about money. Shared funds mean shared responsibility.
But I’ll need answers eventually.
I studied Liu’s back.
What’s he hiding? Simple greed? Surely not gambling…
"Th-they’re back! Alert the boss!"
My musings broke at the sight: the beef joint’s sign, panicked bouncers scrambling.
