A Chicken in Hand (before battle)
I stared at Gregor's dish for a good while.
<What uh, is this, Gregor?>
A military survivalist meal… or something like that?
<Do they… really eat this in the military?>
Look, Manager Bud, didn't you say you're an amnesiac? Since when were you such a delicate food critic, huh?
Gregor lost his usual calm demeanor and suddenly snapped at me.
I looked at Ryōshū's serving next.
I felt like I was looking at a brand-new work of art.
As in, I had no idea what it was supposed to be.
<……>
<Ryōshū, just to make sure, you didn't mistake our objective with assassinating the Distorted restaurant owner, did you?>
S.T.C.U.
She wants to shut the clock up…
Heathcliff and Meursault had caught the owner of Eunbong's and put him in a seat in the meantime…
We started by feeding him Ryōshū's cooking.
Grr… Urgh… Hrrgh…
The Distortion's language is difficult to parse. It will take me at least 70 hours to decipher it based on the speech pattern and cadence.
That long? We can't be frying chickens for all that time!
<Wait…!>
<I think I can hear his voice in my head.>
Hmm, how curious. This could be due to the influence of the Golden Boughs we've collected resonating with Manager Dante's head.
Ugh… I think I just heard a staggering statement, but the owner's cries are too distracting…
Gruh…Urg…Arrh…
What is he trying to say?
<"A funeral procession in my mouth…">
Grh… Urhh…erh…
<"Is your cooking theme 'poultry apocalypse'", he asks…>
Right… Today will be the day I rip that clock from its stem.
<I was just relaying his review!>
Then the two of you can go to hell together.
Got too cocky, eh, Ryōshū? Confidence is good and all, but it's no match for hard-boiled experience.
Alright, guess it's my turn. Open wide now, pal.
Ghh… Urhh… Urrg…
<……>
Aha, is he starting to open up his heart?
<He's wondering if it was sludged up from the food waste dumpster outside…>
……
<Looks like both your dishes failed…>
The owner and his chickens came at us with growls.
As if to express their master's anger in full…