IBWMD 50

~Chapter 50~

The shopkeeper, with eyes wet like a dewy calf, nodded.

‘Right. They said no, even when I offered money.’

According to him, he’d scraped together just enough to afford one purification for the meat after working like crazy.

So he rushed to the temple—

‘Why? When I’m right here?’

‘Because… I’ve already received so much help from you, miss.’

‘And that’s a problem?’

‘The blue titanium, for example. That blacksmith guy was over the moon…’

I only did what I thought was necessary. And it was he himself who scouted out the dangerous mine and discovered the titanium in the first place.

Oh, and the Partner’s Tower actually worked.

A few days after Karl stored the ore there, I checked—and one of the chunks had been fully purified.

Seeing that, I immediately tossed in the rest without hesitation.

Apparently, Karl had explained things well at the Duke’s estate, since no one complained about using the tower like that.

‘They should be slowly maturing in there now.’

Just thinking about the purified blue titanium filled me with a warm satisfaction, like eating kimchi with rice.

And once the titanium supply stabilized, it seemed the blacksmiths and the adult pickpockets had formed a kind of agreement.

Since the adults needed to stay hidden from the back-alley boss anyway, they decided to set up a forge near the mine and work there.

‘They handled everything themselves.’

What I did wasn’t even a big deal.

But the shopkeeper seemed deeply indebted in his heart.

‘So I wanted to stand on my own—without your help.’

‘But I never said I was cutting you off.’

‘Still, I need to grow independent someday, right?!’

It felt like watching a child I hadn’t raised trying to declare their independence. Endearing and admirable.

Too bad he got completely rejected.

‘They wouldn’t even let me near the temple gates once they heard it was monster meat. Said it was filthy and blasphemous.’

“Hmm…”

Well, judging from how the Pope treats monsters, that was sadly unsurprising.

But then…

‘They even knocked over the barrels of meat?’

‘Sniff…’

I saw tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Rage bubbled up inside me.

‘These people don’t know how precious food is!’

We’re in a place where people are so hungry they’re trying to eat purified monster meat.

And yet, not only did the temple call it blasphemous and refuse it—they knocked it over?

‘And then they burned it?’

‘Waaaah…’

I nearly stormed the temple.

Ruining food is one thing, but burning it beyond recovery? That’s unforgivable.

‘Like sprinkling cigarette ash on freshly steamed rice.’

In a town where people starve to death, they dismissed edible meat like trash.

Blasphemy or not, I’d have grabbed that priest by the collar if I could.

‘But causing a scene would just make it worse.’

The Pope already hated Saint Portou. There was only one temple here anyway—a lone building a few blocks from the Duke’s estate.

‘And I heard the priests here are especially strict.’

Apparently, they were assigned by the Pope to keep an eye on Saint Portou. More closed-off than priests anywhere else.

They’d been stationed here for hundreds of years, ever since the monster eradication threat—and not once had they cooperated.

‘They’ve never done proper charity here either.’

Usually, temples provide charity a few times a year—healing and feeding the poor.

‘Saint Portou is where it’s most needed.’

While I was thinking that, the shopkeeper murmured dejectedly.

‘The temple’s relationship with this region is… strained.’

‘……’

‘The priests don’t like Saint Portou, and the paladins guarding them rarely leave the grounds unless it’s an emergency.’

‘What kind of paladins are these?’

Unbelievable. I was starting to get really mad at the paladins, not just the priests.

They took oaths—oaths to serve wherever divine purification was needed.

As a former deputy commander of the paladin order, I was especially outraged.

But there was nothing I could do.

‘If I push too hard, the temple will cause trouble…’

‘So you couldn’t even protest what they did to the meat?’

‘Sniffle…’

‘Okay, okay. Don’t cry like that.’

Still—how could I stay still after hearing that?

At this point, it wasn’t about guilt—it was about pride and principle.

‘There’s no shortage of monster meat anyway.’

So I went wild purifying meat in every spare moment.

Sometimes I even brought it back to the inn to purify like it was homework.

Monster meat, being toxic, actually had great preservation qualities—it didn’t spoil quickly.

‘Though there was that one time I overdid it and got a nosebleed. Beth screamed like I was dying.’

She saw one drop of blood and acted like I’d coughed up a lung.

Beth was passed out today, having stayed up all night making chicken stew from ingredients Karl brought.

Out of respect for her effort, I forced down three spoonfuls.

‘Her cooking skills are on par with the skewer shop owner’s…’

Instead of chasing men, Beth should’ve honed her culinary talents.

Anyway, these barrels of meat were the result of all my efforts.

And now—

“Here, I just stack them onto the cart, right?”

I looked at the reinforced wagon and asked.

On top of it, the shopkeeper’s whole skewer stall had been neatly packed.

“Yes! That was the last one!”

“Are we heading out now?”

“Yep. We’ll be feeding everyone before the new year!”

We were headed to the outer slums of Saint Portou—one of the shopkeeper’s long-held goals.

“No matter how subdued the festival is, it’s still a celebration.”

“Exactly.”

“So those people deserve to be full too.”

“Well said. You should run for office.”

“Office?”

“It’s a thing.”

Despite the work, I felt good. Doing the right thing always leaves a warm glow.

“Alright! Hop on!”

The shopkeeper extended a hand to help me up. I grabbed it to climb aboard—

Rustle.

‘Hm?’

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…”

I had a weird feeling—like something snake-like brushed my ankle.

I’d felt this once before, after receiving the Duke’s letter… during the time Karl wasn’t around.

‘This is lasting too long to be a hallucination.’

It was almost vivid this time. I glanced down at my ankle but saw nothing snake-like.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

No point in mentioning it and having it dismissed as another prophetic dream.

Instead of taking the shopkeeper’s hand, I grabbed the cart door myself and climbed up.

For some reason, I thought I heard someone chuckle approvingly.

During the ride to the outskirts…

I felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

‘Just add Beth and Karl and it’s the same setup as when I first arrived in Saint Portou.’

The grumpy old man—Clark—sat glaring at me, and the shopkeeper was beside him, eager to feed me.

Across from them sat Jeremy and me. Though Jeremy had put a suspicious amount of distance between us.

“Seriously?”

“I’m more comfortable like this.”

Even though he was practically glued to the window?

Fine. I liked having more space anyway.

Meanwhile, I was testing more of the shopkeeper’s new recipes.

Calmly chewing, I evaluated the meat.

“This one’s garbage.”

“…Ugh.”

“This one tastes like unpurified meat again.”

“Sob…”

“…That’s what I didn’t have the heart to say.”

The shopkeeper kept whining like some strange animal, and Jeremy muttered like a backup singer.

Time passed quickly, and soon we reached our destination.

“Here we are.”

“……”

“There’s a huge slum area that stretches even farther back.”

‘Bleak…’

The slums at the edge of the outer wall looked like wastelands at first glance.

Not literally—but that’s how empty and desolate it felt.

Between collapsing buildings, tattered tents were strung up.

Odds and ends peeked out from the tents—but no people.

“They’re probably all hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“Even if it’s part of Saint Portou, the atmosphere’s different here.”

I thought of the pickpockets in the back alleys.

Their situations weren’t much different from these people.

“Once I set up the stall, they’ll come out. Who doesn’t want free meat?”

“Hm.”

“I even brought some finished skewers. Here!”

The shopkeeper cheerfully passed out skewers to everyone in the cart. These were his experimental recipes.

No one took a bite, of course.

Except for the blacksmith who’d come to help drive the cart.

Sitting at the front, he took a huge bite—and immediately turned pale.

“…Did I not purify this one enough?”