Starting with Frieren

"Woohoo~ Keep the music going, and keep dancing!"

The Village of the Sword was ablaze with bonfires that night. To celebrate the heart-stopping and highly successful hunt, adventurers and hunters, who had narrowly escaped death, sang, danced, drank, and feasted around the fires to release their pent-up emotions.

To everyone's surprise, the blonde captain turned out to be a street-dancing expert. Placing a small round shield on the ground and spinning atop it like a top with just a slight push of his head, he drew thunderous cheers from the crowd.

Ivan, of course, wouldn't miss out on an event with free food and drink. Holding a plate of food, he found a random spot to squat down, enjoying the rugged cuisine and observing the somewhat off-key singing and awkward dancing. A contented smile spread across his face.

As he was soaking in the vibrant human atmosphere, a young, delicate girl approached him, holding a bowl of soup. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Ivan?"

"Yes, I am. But you don't need to call me 'Mr.'—just Ivan is fine."

"Oh, but…that's not proper! You're the one who saved my father's life… My father was the hunter you met while dismantling the trap. After hearing about what happened, I came to personally thank you. Oh no, I haven't introduced myself yet! I'm Martina, and I came here specifically to…"

The girl stumbled over her words, trying to express everything she wanted to say all at once. Her flustered manner, combined with the sheer volume of information she was trying to convey, seemed to overload her brain, leaving her momentarily speechless.

"I'm so sorry—I'm so clumsy that I can't even speak properly…"

Seeing her dejected expression, Ivan shifted slightly to create some space beside him. "It's okay. Sit down and take your time. There's no rush—it's not like it's urgent military intel. No one will blame you."

"Ugh…" Martina's freckled cheeks, already glowing red in the firelight, turned an even deeper shade, as though painted crimson with embarrassment.

Fortunately, after taking several deep breaths—her chest heaving visibly—she calmed herself down.

"Thank you so much for saving my reckless father. He also told me that without your participation in the hunt, the casualties would have been devastating. We wouldn't be able to celebrate so cheerfully right now. I'm deeply, deeply grateful."

Martina bowed sincerely, then handed over the bowl of soup she'd brought. "I made this soup myself. It's full of ingredients to replenish the body, and it's infused with my heartfelt gratitude. Please, accept it!"

"Thank you." Ivan took the bowl with both hands. Glancing at it using his system, he verified it was non-toxic and highly nutritious, so he safely brought it to his lips.

Martina added excitedly, "I even tested it on my father first. After drinking just one sip, he was so overwhelmed with happiness that he fainted on the spot! I'm sure you'll love it."

Ivan froze mid-sip, his expression subtly shifting. A man who could keep his composure even while losing an arm found his face twitching involuntarily. If the system hadn't verified the soup's safety, he might have suspected Martina was trying to assassinate him.

"How does it taste?"

Martina looked at him expectantly, her bright eyes shining with a kind of pure, hopeful light that made it impossible to disappoint her.

"The taste…is quite extraordinary."

Indeed, it was extraordinary. Ivan had never before encountered a soup capable of achieving such a perfect balance of sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and salty, all in a single mouthful. It was… unforgettable, to say the least. He felt a wave of dizziness, as though his brain was being numbed into a state of low-blood-pressure-induced euphoria.

Martina clapped her hands in delight. "If you like it, you can finish it here! There's more at home—I can bring you another bowl once you're done!"

"…Uh, I think one bowl is enough. With food this delicious, having too much at once would make it lose its unique flavor. Let's save the rest for another time, okay?"

"Really? That makes sense!" Martina didn't seem to question the truth of Ivan's words. Perhaps it was because she'd been so well-protected by her father that she appeared a little naïve in certain ways.

Even so, Ivan's situation remained dire. His brain was working faster than it had when fighting the Dark Dragon and the two demons. In his daze, the bowl of soup in his hands began to feel like a lethal potion, and Martina transformed in his mind into a grim reaper's envoy urging him toward his demise.

Sweat poured down his back.

Fortunately, Ivan managed to devise an escape plan. Feigning a decisive gulp, he secretly used his spatial ring to store the soup away.

"Hmm, not bad at all."

Ivan returned the empty bowl.

"By the way, Martina, have you ever properly tasted your own cooking? There's definitely room for improvement."

Martina's previously high spirits deflated. "I'm sorry... I lost my sense of taste due to a high fever when I was young, so I can't actually taste the food I cook."

"I see, that's unfortunate. But you could observe how other chefs cook, especially how they use seasonings. If you commit those details to memory, your dishes will definitely become more delicious."

"That's true! I never thought about that before! Thank you so much for the advice, Mr. Ivan." Martina immediately perked up like a single-threaded creature, brushing off her earlier disappointment and dreaming about her journey to becoming a culinary master.

"I told you, no need to call me 'Mr.'—just Ivan is fine."

As Martina was about to change the subject, a female mage from the adventurer team squeezed herself onto Ivan's other side.

Seemingly weakened by alcohol, she leaned against him, pressing against his arm unintentionally—or perhaps not. Her soft curves brushed against him, and her bright, playful eyes gleamed with sly intent, like those of a cunning fox.

"Ivan, you charming little hero~ I was wondering why our star of the night wasn't joining the festivities around the campfire. Turns out, you're here whispering sweet nothings to a little lady."

"N-no! I'm not whispering sweet nothings! Ivan and I aren't like that at all!"

Martina, who had only just managed to speak normally, reverted to stammering again. Her face flushed red with embarrassment.

"Oh, I just remembered my father is still lying on the ground. I need to check on him!"