PDCOO Chapter 4

War. The moment that word came out, Karlah grabbed a wooden bowl and hurled it. Anna flinched, and Karlah screamed shrilly.

"War, war! When exactly did the war end that we still have to talk about it?"

"M-Mom..."

"The war only took everything from me. Even my husband! Who can repay that? Huh? After the armistice, receiving this cavernous restaurant, my insides rotted from pretending to be grateful! War is, f*ck, like a rabid dog. We need to forget. Even if the war had ended in victory, we wouldn't have gotten a single sack of flour."

Anna couldn't answer anymore. Tears welled in her eyes, hearing profanity from her mother for the first time. Seeing that, Karlah forcibly suppressed the veins rising in her throat.

"...Anna. I'm sorry for yelling. Just don't bring up the war again."

"I-I'm sorry... I won't talk about it again..."

"Good. Feeding emaciated people is your freedom so I won't say anything, but don't try to keep them at the restaurant. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"Mm, and..."

Karlah hesitated before speaking.

"Don't have a romance with someone like that."

Anna was at a loss for words.

Romance—that tingly pink word—and the man perfectly described as "emaciated bear."

The two words meeting exploded into laughter.

"Ahahaha! Romance! Ro-mance! Ahaha, oh, that's funny. Mom. What do you take me for?"

"A woman who picks up dangerous men and takes care of them."

"Don't interpret it impurely! First of all, that man's not my type. Too big. And looking at him only made me feel pity."

"Starting with pity is the scariest thing. 'I'll just feed him once, oh my, he really likes my cooking, he can't do without me' and then you're sharing the same table every morning in no time."

"Don't worry. He didn't seem to like my cooking."

"You're not listening! Ugh, do as you please. Just don't come crying with nonsense later."

Karlah picked up the wooden bowl and headed to the kitchen. From inside came "Oh my? Who chopped this mountain of onions?" Anna pretended not to hear and looked in the direction Bertram had left.

How far those long legs had carried him in great strides. Already not even his hair was visible.

That black hair hanging down to his nape, disheveled like a real wolf. And those fierce blue eyes.

...At first she'd been too focused on how his cheeks were sunken to notice, but he'd been quite handsome.

Having thought just that far, Anna quickly shook her head.

'What am I going to do now, remembering his face? Have a romance like Mom said? Besides, how could I do that with a man who can't even say food he's getting for free is delicious?'

And what about that height so tall she couldn't see his face at her eye level? Unless he was sitting, conversation was difficult. When he stood, his voice tickled the crown of her head every time. Anna was on the short side, but any woman would find it equally inconvenient.

But thinking that far made her imagination leap somewhere else entirely.

'...Wait. I'm just curious. How do people with a huge height difference kiss? There's a limit to how much a woman can rise on her tiptoes. Does the man crouch down? That would be so tacky!'

Meanwhile, Karlah poked her head out of the kitchen to ask about the pile of onions in the corner. But her daughter's expression was too serious, so Karlah couldn't bring herself to speak.

'Did I say too much? Should I have said to at least let him eat dinner before sending him off?'

Because of this, Karlah decided to deal with the onions silently herself. Never knowing what her daughter was worrying about to the end.

Bertram left the restaurant and walked and walked.

Wet earth crushed under his leather boots, crumbling white beneath the moonlight. Bertram looked down at it and thought of bones.

Bones he'd shattered endlessly on battlefields.

Because of rumors that enemy mages could control corpses, he couldn't show respect even to bodies, whether enemy or ally. When there was no time to transport corpses to the rear, they had to be crushed and burned first.

Naturally, the soldiers' morale was abysmal. If they died here, they couldn't even leave proof they'd fought on the battlefield. They couldn't even gain the paltry honor of having died for their country. Because of this, countless soldiers fled under cover of darkness, and died taking spears in the back in the process. Bertram remembered those terrified targets.

...Just walking a quiet night road.

A dim pool formed in the center of Bertram's heart.

But Bertram had even forgotten what to call that emotion.

Just then, a gurgle sounded from his stomach.

'Ah, it was hunger.'

No one was there to tell him that was the wrong answer.

Bertram opened the coin purse Karlah had given him. It contained a not insignificant sum.

'Should I buy something to eat? No. I should save this and return it to Anna.'

Even if Karlah said it wasn't needed, he fully intended to repay the debt owed to Hans.

Sixteen-year-old Bertram had thought if he won the war, everything would return to its proper course. So he offered up his emotions. Killed countless enemy soldiers. Sometimes killed allies too. Requisitioned even the seeds farmers had saved for next year from wailing peasants. The accumulating requisition certificates transformed into whispers of "we'll repay someday" and fanned his self-justification.

But the war was lost, his family was lost, and even the throne was stolen by his uncle.

Bertram suffered nightmares even while awake.

The emotion whose name he'd forgotten remained as symptoms, strangling his throat.

The mage who watched that state told Bertram:

He couldn't break the curse, but he knew a way to lessen his suffering.

"Repay all debts, Your Highness."

That very day, Bertram left the castle.

Digging through what were once battlefields with his bare hands to gather remains and dog tags to return to bereaved families, repaying individually issued requisition certificates...

Now if he just repaid the debt to Hans Burthe, even that adventure would end.

He absolutely couldn't back down.

As soon as morning came, he would return to Anna's restaurant and repay the debt.

What he needed for that: proper food and sleep. As Bertram looked for provisions, someone approached and spoke.

"Excuse me, would you be Bertram?"

Lifting his head, he saw three village youths forcing smiles.

"Do you remember us?"

"Yes. Two of you were threatening me in front of the restaurant. I don't recognize the other one."

"...Ahaha, you remember? Sorry. We're just really wary of outsiders."

An absurd excuse, but Bertram noticed the clubs hidden at the men's waists and nodded.

"It seems so. I'll understand."

Veins stood out on the men's necks.

But they had nothing to say. When the threatened party says they'll understand, what more could be said?

Finally the oldest man stepped forward.

"We heard about this debt business. But if Karlah says it's not needed, that's that—why are you still in the village?"

"As soon as day breaks, I plan to discuss the debt with the two of them again."

"Meaning, you won't leave this village?"

"Correct."

The three men exchanged glances.

This one wouldn't budge with words.

But the men weren't villains who'd brandish weapons without warning, so they brought out the most common and friendly platitude.

"Have you eaten? You must be starving after getting kicked out of the only restaurant."

"I was about to go hunting."

"Huh? There's nothing to hunt around here. At night it's hard to even catch rabbits."

"I confirmed on the way into the village that there's food, so it's fine."

Thanks to the mage's curse, Bertram could digest even tree roots. For him, it truly meant he was a being able to eat anything...

In the men's hearts, deeper unease grew.

'Don't tell me this guy's eyeing our livestock?'

The men nodded to each other with eye signals.

This bear was definitely going to be a bad influence on the village. Best to mess with him and chase him out.

The men surrounded Bertram one by one and poured out words like a waterfall.

"What kind of spirit-draining hunting is that? We'll tell you about easy food we can get."

"Where did you sleep yesterday? You didn't curl up outside, did you? I'll tell you a place to avoid the night dew, so sleep there tonight."

The men stood on either side of Bertram and tried to push his back... but showed bewilderment at that solid resistance. Bertram looked down at their faintly trembling hands and belatedly realized.

'These people said they were afraid of me earlier.'

A small, closed country village. If some hulk wandered around such a place, the villagers would be frightened. These men must be part of a vigilante group that came to deal with the uninvited guest.

Bertram scraped together what little awareness remained and pondered, then decided to accept the proposals of these pitiful vigilante members who'd bravely come forth to protect the village.

"Understood. I'll refrain from hunting. Please tell me what I can eat and where to stay."

Not knowing his thoughts, the men rejoiced.

"You're not someone words completely don't work on?"

"Yes. Your force wouldn't work on me anyway. I want to listen to what you say as much as possible."

"...You'd be better off not talking. Well, first take this and eat it."

One man handed over rock-hard ship's biscuit. Just biting it would break most people's teeth.

"On that ridge clearing, reddish-brown mushrooms the size of your palm grow, you know? Just flip them over and heat them a little and broth flows out—soak ship's biscuit in that and it's amazing. Do you have flint?"

"I have simple cooking tools."

"Then nothing to worry about! Get mushrooms there and keep climbing up to mid-mountain where you'll find an abandoned building. Rest there tonight."

"Thank you for your kindness. Then, I'll see you tomorrow."

Bertram bowed to the men, then began running in the direction they'd indicated.