Dark Fantasy Guide for the Summoner - Chapter 39

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 39.
The Chef Haithan II
We pressed deeper into forest where sunlight still reached, a wood so dense with leaves that daylight could not be wholly shut out.
“How many Spirits have you contracted?”
Allon answered, running his tongue across the roof of his mouth several times as though nursing a bitter taste.
“Five. Fire, water, wind, lightning, and forest.”
“Did you also contract with any intermediate-rank Spirits?”
“Two of them, yes.”
“Which attributes?”
“Wind and forest.”
Beyond the basic four elemental Spirits—which had the lowest contract difficulty—he’d also bound a peripheral attribute, and not just one but two intermediate-rank Spirits at that.
I couldn’t help but nod appreciatively.
“Impressive.”
It wasn’t idle flattery, either. He truly was the sort of operator you’d expect to stand alongside a Paladin.
……
In that moment, for reasons I couldn’t explain, the back of my head prickled, and I turned to look behind.
It was Cria—but that distinctive overgrown fringe of theirs made their gaze difficult to read.
……Was I imagining things?
In any case, thanks to Allon’s guidance, we made our way without losing the path, taking the shortest route toward where the chef waited.
Though it wasn’t without its complications.
“Can’t you guide us properly?”
“I’m doing it right now…….”
“Because you guided us like an idiot, we ran into a Monster!”
But Seigrena had begun finding fault with every aspect of Allon, and took to beating him about it at every turn.
“W-we ran into one……!”
And oddly enough, whenever she did, Cria would join right in.
At first they’d watched hesitantly, but soon they’d edged in behind Seigrena and began kicking away alongside her.
……
What was this supposed to accomplish?
Even Allon, receiving the blows, glared back at Cria in exasperation—but Seigrena was not one to tolerate that.
“How dare you glare like that!”
“Dare to glare……!”
He caught an even harder blow for it.
I watched this unfold until groans began escaping him, then I put a stop to it.
“That’s enough. We still need him to guide us.”
“As long as he can speak and his mind is clear, isn’t that all that matters?”
“What if something breaks and he can’t walk? You planning to carry him?”
Seigrena pulled a face of disgust and ceased her violence.
“Count yourself fortunate. By the time we return to the Royal Capital, you’ll think this forest was paradise.”
Allon rose unsteadily, saying nothing.
I felt no particular sympathy.
Among Delvers, betrayal is a capital crime. Honestly, this one should be grateful to Seigrena’s mercy for not losing his head outright.
“Now move!”
Snap!
Seigrena cracked her whip.
Naturally, it was my unique item that I’d lent her—the Tentacle Whip.
‘He asked to borrow it, so I let him. Now this.’
Well, at least it served a purpose. No matter how viciously she wielded it, no actual damage would carry through.
“Gah, ngh, ahhhhh……!”
The pain, though—that was another matter entirely.
Each time the whip connected, the Spirit-user cast pleading looks in my direction, but I ignored them.
My own mind was too occupied running through my plans.
“……About that chef fellow.”
Allon broached the subject breathlessly.
Ever since he’d realized that Seigrena refrained from violence when he was speaking with me, he’d grown far more blatant about it.
I didn’t answer, simply let him continue his one-sided talk.
“He absolutely refused to show us the kitchen behind the food stall.”
“You mentioned that already.”
“I know……. But it keeps bothering me—what he said. He told me that only he and ingredients could ever enter his cooking space…….”
Even Seigrena, who’d been grumbling until then, fell silent at that.
A chill wind swept in from somewhere, and Allon spoke.
“So Lorang and the others—they haven’t already fallen into that man’s hands, have they?”
“No.”
I shook my head as I answered.
“They’re still alive.”
……
Allon glanced at me for a moment, then abruptly broke into a hollow laugh like a madman.
“……So the rumors were true.”
What did he mean? Before I could ask, Allon suddenly stopped in his tracks.
His trembling hand rose to point at a single spot ahead.
“There. That’s it.”
……
Smoke rose in thick plumes through the dense canopy of trees.
Not at night, but brazenly kindled in broad daylight.
In the forest, even Delvers had to be cautious of Monsters, yet this man seemed entirely unconcerned with such precautions.
‘Well, of course.’
A man who could be caught in the Wood Revenge without so much as a scratch.
“You all wait here.”
“Wait? Why?”
“I’m going alone.”
“What……?”
I spoke while watching the smoke billow skyward.
“If I’m not back by sunset, just escape on your own. If things go well—yes, I’ll try to put out the fire, so when I do, come and join me then.”
* * *
After finally shaking off those persistent followers, I headed alone toward the source of the smoke.
As I drew closer, a delicious aroma began to drift through the air.
Growl.
Now that I think about it, it’s been quite a while since I’ve had anything resembling real food.
Even when hunting Antworms, I’d filled my belly with the cheapest provisions available at shelters.
Rubbing my stomach as I pressed on, I finally arrived at the restaurant Allon had mentioned.
……
Lucien Bistro.
That was the name of this establishment, according to Allon.
For reference, bistro is a French word meaning “an inexpensive restaurant.” So it translates roughly to “Lucien’s Alley Eatery.”
“Welcome, friend.”
Just then, a man emerged from behind the food stall as if he’d been waiting.
‘……So this is the one.’
Jet-black suit and hair the color of a midnight forest—an unsettling dark green that clashed oddly with his gentle smile. His eyes were cut in a long, sharp line, which made a striking impression.
“Welcome to Lucien Bistro. I am Haithan, owner, head chef, bartender, floor manager, and server all in one. How many guests will we be serving this evening?”
“……Just myself.”
I used formal speech for the first time in ages.
In the forest, there’s rarely occasion for politeness, but this man was an exception.
Haithan gestured gracefully, his face bright with a warm smile.
“I see. One guest, then. Please, make yourself comfortable wherever you wish.”
I did as he suggested.
I was about to sit at a spot a little distance from the kitchen when makeshift furniture suddenly caught my eye—a chair and table.
……
They appeared to be made from distinctive reddish unfinished wood.
I traced my finger across the tabletop, then spoke up abruptly.
“This furniture.”
“……?”
“The color is quite distinctive.”
“Ah.”
Haithan smiled knowingly as he replied.
“A good forest this is. High-quality timber is easy to come by here.”
“Did the chef craft this yourself?”
“Ha ha.”
Haithan laughed with evident satisfaction.
This was likely because I’d addressed him by the title among his many roles that he seemed to favor most.
“Nothing worthy of boasting about elsewhere. Merely one of my small hobbies, you might say.”
“……”
In that moment, a question I’d been pushing aside all this while finally found its answer.
‘Wood Revenge.’
There was one thing that had nagged at me all along.
When we first encountered the Wood Avenger, its primary target wasn’t me—not even Lorang and his group.
Who could have killed more of those wooden creatures than Lorang’s party? That’s what had puzzled me.
‘This monster could’ve managed it easily enough.’
Apparently this creature had slaughtered the majority of the avengers that swarmed toward it, then processed the rest into tables and chairs.
“Here is our menu, sir.”
Haithan extended it with meticulous courtesy.
Lucien Bistro
A steak as tender as a teenage boy’s tongue
1,000 seed
Aglio olio as chewy as a young man’s freshly kindled hopes
2,000 seed
Creamed mushroom stew as sodden as an old man’s desires in his final hour
1,000 seed
⁝
The excessive descriptions on the menu were oddly grating.
The names were unsettling, certainly, but I couldn’t fathom why the spirit-user had made such a fuss over them.
‘Probably because I’ve seen too many ghost stories from the modern era.’
As that thought crossed my mind, I glanced sideways at Haithan—the man’s smile remained perfectly painted, as though drawn on canvas.
‘The prices themselves are reasonable enough.’
Setting aside his idiotic philosophy and twisted values, this man’s cooking skill was in a league of its own.
If I wanted similar quality from a restaurant, I’d easily pay dozens of times more.
But.
“I’d like to wash my hands first, if I may.”
Haithan’s eyes turned toward me.
His already narrow eyes curved even more acutely than usual.
“My apologies, sir. We’ve only just set up in this location, so facilities are rather sparse. There’s a stream nearby—if you don’t mind, you could attend to it there.”
I nodded and headed in the direction Haithan indicated, stealing a sideways glance toward the kitchen beyond the carriage as I went.
“……”
As expected, the rest of the group was there.
All of them bound in thick iron chains.
‘Except for Lorang, they look fine.’
Kazen and the others bore no serious wounds.
It was what I’d anticipated.
In restaurants, prep work is usually done after service ends for the day, or early the next morning.
Splash.
At the stream where clear water babbled softly, I washed my hands thoroughly, then returned to the table.
Without glancing about in an obvious, clumsy manner, I surveyed the forest within my line of sight with measured calm.
“……”
The view was lovely.
Perhaps it was the open clearing.
At first glance, one could mistake this for a special restaurant perched in a scenic forest with fine vistas.
In the real world, it would be like one of those crowded canyons—the kind of establishment with outrageously inflated prices.
And for good reason.
‘Return Points themselves are places Monsters can’t approach.’
Perhaps the geographic positioning formed by such elements had aligned with Haithan’s sensibilities.
In other words, except for that quirky culinary philosophy of his, Haithan was someone you could reason with.
‘That holds true even now.’
He didn’t rush me to order; instead, he stood unobtrusively in his peripheral position, attending to his guest with quiet consideration.
The bearing of an excellent waiter.
Of course, I couldn’t afford to conduct this conversation with him from an ordinary perspective.
“Just water and a salad, then.”
I said it as though I had no appetite.
As for the salad, I could honestly guess what it was made of, but it posed far less resistance than any meat dish.
But Haithan’s expression grew regretful.
“My apologies, sir, but our establishment requires at least one main course per order.”
“I see.”
At that remark, I looked back down at the menu.
“…….”
Unsettling names. And I knew full well: every single dish was made from ingredients I’d rather not imagine.
I couldn’t bring myself to answer directly, so I changed the subject.
“By the way, why is the restaurant called the Lucien Bistro?”
“Pardon?”
“It doesn’t seem to be the chef’s name, is it?”
Haithan smiled gently.
“Lucien was the name of an old friend of mine. A man with extraordinary culinary skill—and beyond that, someone possessed of an unwavering professional spirit. By naming the bistro after him, I wished to express my respect.”
“I see.”
“And might I ask your own name?”
“Keindel.”
“Ah, Keindel….”
Sir.
The moment that title left his lips, I nearly let out a sigh.
I knew the truth: he only addressed certain patrons that way—those he deemed worthy of his regard.
“Sir…. Your refined manners bring particular joy to this humble restaurant keeper, if I may say. Would you be so kind as to share your name once more? If you wouldn’t mind, your full name?”
This was his roundabout way of asking, ‘Are you perhaps of noble birth?’
I shook my head slowly.
“I have no family name. I’m simply a Delver.”
“And before that…?”
“A guide.”
“Ah, I understand.”
Haithan’s expression remained unchanged at the mention of my previous occupation. He was the sort of man who never judged people by their station.
“……Chef. Would it be possible for me to use the space behind the kitchen?”
So I decided to cut to the chase rather than dance around it further.
Haithan tilted his head to one side.
“The space behind the kitchen, you say?”
“Yes. As I mentioned, I’m a Delver. And I’ve just completed the survey map for an Exploration Crystal and was about to return.”
“Ah. Together with your companions in the kitchen, I take it?”
Bastard. He knew all along.
Haithan smiled and spoke again.
“They were rather impolite. To be honest, releasing them would not be an easy matter.”
“Is there a condition?”
“A condition.”
He murmured the word ominously, then began walking slowly with his hands clasped behind his back.
“You may not realize it, but there are few professions that demand such lifelong devotion as cooking.”
“Excuse me?”
“Because one must create endlessly anew from within the bounds of the familiar.”
Whether I spoke or remained silent, Haithan continued.
“One searches for countless ingredients, tests every possible combination, endlessly revisits what has already been surpassed. Sometimes fresh inspiration strikes from within that very familiarity. But the tongue grows dull through the process, and eventually, objective judgment becomes impossible. I call this condition ‘numbness of the palate.’ It is, perhaps, the most tragic fate that can befall a chef.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Haithan smiled and spoke.
“Evaluate my cooking, sir.”
“…….”
“Place my food upon your tongue, chew and savor it, and then tell me—with absolute honesty—what you find. Do this, and I will release your companions and yield this place to you.”
I should have seen this coming.
I looked at Haithan and spoke.
“I know what’s in your food.”
“Do you now?”
“Some of these dishes are as good as poison. I’d die before I finished swallowing them. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”
I wasn’t exaggerating or speaking in metaphor. Just as he himself had admitted, Haithan’s palate had fallen victim to numbness.
Having nearly lost all sense of taste, he had begun crafting dishes with far stronger spices and sauces to provoke sensation. And eventually, he had crossed the line.
‘Meat charred to ash. Blowfish with the poison intact. Fruits that explode in the mouth when bitten.’
In other words, running this restaurant was Haithan’s way of finding test subjects willing to eat his creations and die in the process.
“Sir. Historically, food and pain have been inseparable companions. Look at spice alone—is it not a form of pain rather than a category of taste?”
“I understand. But surely there must be a limit to such things? A dish that dissolves your esophagus the moment you swallow it crosses the line of acceptable cooking.”
What made Haithan truly mad was this: even as he watched his customers writhe, he persisted in demanding their assessment.
“It hurts, you say? You’re suffering? Precisely how much suffering are we discussing? Is there truly no room for taste, aroma, or texture to slip through? Not even a sliver? Absolutely none whatsoever?”
⁝
“Ah. It seems difficult for you to speak. That’s quite all right……. Please, don’t strain yourself. After all, expression often conveys far more than words ever could. But my guest, you mustn’t abandon your meal. I do hope you’ll savor my cooking for as long as possible. Even a moment longer.”
Haithan consumed food that might well kill him, yet treated the agony that followed as merely a piquant flavor, a pleasant umami.
“How intriguing. You seem to know quite a bit about me, in fact……. From whom did you hear about this establishment?”
“……”
“Well, that hardly matters now. Sir, your concern is understandable, but it’s an unavoidable process.”
“Unavoidable?”
Haithan nodded.
“I believe there is no such thing as perfect proportions in cooking. Especially not in times like these. It varies by race, by person, by preference…… or by eating habits, personal taste, allergies. The differences from one individual to another are extreme. In other words, my principle is this: ‘There’s no way to know what any dish is truly like until you’ve tasted it.'”
“…….”
“Haven’t you experienced something like that yourself? Something that looked terrible and smelled absolutely vile, but turned out to be surprisingly good once you tried it?”
Insane bastard.
Every word is sophistry, but there’s no point in arguing further.
‘So this is Chef Haithan.’
An S-Rank with top-tier stats and combat ability, yet impossible to recruit as a companion.
In his pursuit of diverse flavors, he’d subjected his own body to countless experiments, and as a result, he’d achieved a kind of complete imperviousness.
‘The problem is, he lost almost all his sense of taste and smell in the process.’
Because of that, he can’t objectively evaluate his own cooking, and he doesn’t know how dangerous the food he makes truly is. It’s why this creature set up his restaurant in the middle of the forest and does business with Delvers.
Naturally, his values are so corrupted that normal conversation is impossible with him.
“Well…… sir. Let’s end the small talk here―”
Haithan spoke.
“Now, please decide on a menu.”
“……So I just eat and give my assessment?”
“Of course.”
“Very well. Though…….”
I asked, as if something had just occurred to me.
“Does this establishment happen to allow animals inside?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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