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Named after the goddess of earth and abundance, Redanti, the restaurant had a reputation worthy of bearing the goddess’s name. It was prestigious, having not one but three chefs who had been directly under the service of kings across the continent, and it had a contract with the mage’s guild to preserve out-of-season ingredients fresh for their dishes, which earned it high fame among gourmets from various countries.

The prices, of course, were beyond imagination. The cost of ingredients alone was in another dimension due to the use of magic for preservation, and most of the chefs received a salary at the level of moderate nobility, making it so that a meal could only be paid for with gold coins, and not any other currency.

The reason they could boldly display such a blasphemous sign was that the restaurant was operated by the Redanti Order’s Zeppelin Diocese. Officially, the doctrine justified their actions by stating that processing and sharing the earth’s bounty with people was a duty of those who worshiped the goddess. However, it seemed more like they continued because it was a lucrative business.

“Shouldn’t they be providing the food for free if they really want to share?” Sillan grumbled, looking at the feast laid out on the table. As a priest of Philanence, he had quite a few complaints about the Redanti Order’s interpretation of doctrine, which seemed too focused on profit. Repenhardt chuckled at his comment.

“Doesn’t the Philanence Order run similar businesses?”

The Philanence Order, dedicated to the goddess of love, beauty, and mercy, set up aesthetic salons in each diocese to run a beauty business targeting noblewomen. Honestly, they were in no position to criticize the Redanti Order.

“That’s because it’s a natural duty under the goddess of love and beauty, and it doesn’t contradict our teachings. But this is different, isn’t it?”

“I heard the Philanence aesthetic salons charge quite a bit of gold as well.”

“That’s true, but…”

Sillan stumbled for a rebuttal, then seized on another point of contention.

“Anyway, how is a lobster considered a product of the earth? If they’re going to stick to doctrine, they should remove seafood from the menu altogether.”

But because it was delicious, he continued to eat. Yum yum.

Currently, they were enjoying the course meals served on the second floor of “Redanti’s Grace.”

Indeed, the dishes were exceptional. Even Sillan, who had enjoyed decent meals as a high-ranking cleric, realized here for the first time that meat dishes could be delicious without mint.

Venison thighs roasted with fragrant herbs and apricot bread that melted softly in the mouth, along with fish dishes that seemed freshly caught even in the dead of winter, were served one after the other. Sillan constantly grumbled as he continued to stuff his mouth with the food.

Cutting generous slices of steak and bringing them to his mouth, Repenhardt kept stealing glances at Siris. True to her elven nature, she was eating a salad made from fresh vegetables, white bread, and fruits like apples and figs soaked in honey. While chewing on bread, Repenhardt struck up a conversation.

“You’ve undergone Slayer training, right? What kind of weapons did you primarily learn to use?”

Though he already knew the answer, it was a topic he brought up with the purpose of starting a conversation. After swallowing her vegetables, she quietly responded.

“Daggers and longsword skills, whip technique, and archery.”

“Then we’ll need to prepare weapons, won’t we?”

“Yes.”

With that curt reply, Siris returned her focus to her meal. Repenhardt clicked his tongue, finding it difficult to initiate conversation.

‘Tsk, does she not like it here either?’

In fact, this place was one Siris from his past life had greatly enjoyed, especially the menu they were currently savoring. Therefore, commemorating the day they first met, it had been their small pleasure to dine here once a year. After establishing the Antares Empire and being dubbed the Demon King, it became a place they could no longer visit, a fact Siris had found regrettable.

Despite ordering her favorite food at her favored location, the table felt as if a cold wind was blowing across it.

‘She’s so cold…’

The overlap of Siris in her past life, whispering words of love, made the current Siris seem all the more unfamiliar. Even when they first met, the past Siris had been without smiles. But the look in her eyes was different. Although void, it did not harbor the feelings of hostility and contempt present now.

‘Maybe it’s too early for us to have met?’

However, Repenhardt had overlooked something critical.

In the past, he appeared before Siris as a savior.

But now, he stood before Siris as a buyer.

A single word’s difference, but the implications were worlds apart. Honestly, how could Siris view Repenhardt favorably? In her past life, having been rescued from abuse, it was natural not to feel any hostility, but now the circumstances were completely different.

Unaware of this, Repenhardt speculated that perhaps because Siris was still in her girlhood, she might have an instinctive repulsion towards men.

‘Well, maybe someday she’ll recognize my sincerity?’

Whether in a past life or now, Siris was just Siris—a destined lover whom he was fated to love. Thus, it would all eventually flow according to destiny.

Though it wasn’t the reunion he had hoped for, Repenhardt was not disappointed. Even though her attitude towards him was cold, he noticed her expression soften slightly while she was eating the quince preserves, which suggested she didn’t dislike the food.

Repenhardt smiled gently, feeling content just watching Siris enjoy her meal.

‘This is enough for now.’

After finishing the meal, Repenhardt immediately sought out a weapon shop. He intended to buy a weapon for Siris. This time, Siris herself chose the weapon. Unlike clothes, it was quite important to personally test how well a weapon fit one’s hand.

Moreover, the food bought from “Redanti’s Grace” was delicious. Truly delicious.

Repenhardt, who had ordered her favorite menu items in the first place, knew it would be impossible for her not to like it. Externally, Siris maintained a cold demeanor, but internally, she was so delighted by the taste that she almost cried.

Unwilling to admit it, she had unconsciously developed a slight fondness for this ‘insane, giant pervert of an owner.’ Hence, this time, Siris willingly played along with Repenhardt’s role-playing.

“Now, customer, this is the best quality we have in our shop. You won’t find it anywhere else. Euhaha.”

The shop owner proudly presented various types of rapiers, daggers, and dirks, boasting about them one after another.

Repenhardt’s spending spree continued, selecting only the top-quality items. Even the cheapest dirk was a dwarf-made blend of magical metal mithril.

A few hundred years ago, such items could only be owned by nobility or royalty. However, in the current era, most dwarves were enslaved and worked under humans in mass production systems, so items made of mithril were somewhat available in the market.

Of course, they were still considered precious. It was only possible to find such items in a major commercial city like Zeppelin.

“How about it, Siris? Do you see anything you like?”

Repenhardt cautiously glanced at Siris’s eyes as he asked. She was busy assessing the balance of a rapier forged from a mithril and steel alloy. Noticing this, Repenhardt suddenly suggested,

“Hmm, wouldn’t this one be better than that?”

He pointed to a silver-gray scimitar located to the left of the displayed weapons. Like the rapier, it was an item forged from an alloy of mithril and steel. Siris was momentarily surprised.

‘No?’

Normally, the majority of Slayers would use rapiers. This was due to most female swordsmen in adventure stories using them. Consequently, she unconsciously chose it as well. It wasn’t that she was trying to role-play, but she had unwittingly assumed that Repenhardt would prefer such tastes.

“Why do you recommend this one?”

Siris asked with a doubtful look. Repenhardt replied without much thought.

“Huh? Didn’t you originally use a scimitar?”

In fact, the weapon that Siris was most proficient with was indeed a scimitar, a type of curved sword. The rapier, being primarily for thrusting, was useful against humans or humanoid species but not as effective against giant monsters. Although she had learned to use it, she did not particularly like it.

‘But how does he know that?’

It sounded as if he was well aware of Siris’s skills. He had already seemed to know her preferences surprisingly well, whether it was choosing clothes or ordering from a restaurant menu. And they had only met today!

Repenhardt, realizing his mistake from Siris’s suspicious expression, stiffened his face.

‘Uh, I’ve made a mistake. What excuse should I make?’

Unless he was a stalker, how could he possibly know the tastes and abilities of a woman he had met for the first time today? Repenhardt felt awkward and blamed himself. As if his image wasn’t bad enough, would he now be accused of being a stalker too?

Of course, Siris hadn’t thought that far. To infiltrate the heavily guarded Elvenheim to the extent of stalking, one would have to be a legendary master thief. Surely such a master of stealth wouldn’t be stalking an elf slave?

Still, she remained puzzled. While Siris was feeling perplexed, Repenhardt was struggling until Sillan threw him a lifeline.

“Wow, it’s said that a master martial artist can recognize a familiar weapon just by looking at the hands, Mr. Repenhardt, isn’t it amazing?”

“Ah…”

Siris looked convinced. Of course, there was no such skill, but Repenhardt did his best to maintain such an impression. And internally, he was grateful to Sillan.

‘Thank you, Sillan.’

Having finished arming themselves, Repenhardt and his party left the weapon shop. As a token of gratitude for the help, Repenhardt showed a generous gesture by buying Sillan a mithril dagger.

Sillan didn’t know the first thing about dagger techniques, but still, having a dagger was useful in many ways, especially since it was a dwarf-made mithril weapon. Sillan was delighted with this unexpected find, grinning from ear to ear.

“Wow, I’ve seen a lot, but this is the first time I’ve ever gotten my hands on a mithril weapon.”

Repenhardt gave a wry smile.

“Well… You’re a priest. When would you need to wield a weapon?”

Unless he was a martial artist monk, a holy warrior cleric, or a holy knight paladin, the situation must be dire for Sillan, a pure cleric, to need to wield a weapon.

Yet, Sillan kept fidgeting with the dagger, smiling broadly. It seemed that, still being a boy, he was happy to have acquired a precious weapon.

As they were leaving the weapons shop and heading towards an inn, a group of burly men blocked their way just as they were crossing an intersection.

“Excuse me, I have something to say to you.”

Their fierce looks made it clear they weren’t the kind to lead a quiet life. Moreover, all of them were armed. Repenhardt stepped forward, on guard.

“What is it?”

The middle-aged man who appeared to be the leader glanced behind Repenhardt and then spoke.

“Is that slave the one you bought today from Elvenheim?”

“And if she is?”

The man stroked his chin, scanning Repenhardt from head to toe before arrogantly continuing.

“A person of importance wants that elf female.”

The mention of Siris in such a manner made Repenhardt’s blood pressure rise. However, it wasn’t wise to lash out at these men here, given the many onlookers. Repenhardt retorted sullenly.

“So, what about it?”

“We’ll pay you well for the slave. If you wish, we can exchange her for another, proper slayer. Here, take a look at this certified bill of exchange.”

The man then unfolded a bill of exchange from Elvenheim. The seal was clearly stamped, proving it wasn’t a forgery but a legitimate bill. In Zeppelin city, within the Chatan Duchy, using a forged bill could result in being torn limb from limb. Murder might be settled with money, but forgery of a bill was considered a heinous crime in this country that worshiped gold.

As he finished speaking, the man gestured for his companions to bring the elf. His demeanor suggested he hadn’t even considered the possibility of refusal. Repenhardt stepped in front of Siris, blocking her path, with a visibly displeased expression.

“You have no business here.”

The man’s face shifted to one of incredulous disbelief. Such a response was unexpected, and he even wondered if he had misheard.

“Huh? Are you saying you’re refusing?”

“That’s right.”

Repenhardt’s firm stance left the middle-aged man looking bewildered. It was something he couldn’t comprehend. He had never imagined someone would refuse to exchange a thrice-returned defective Slayer for a fine finished product.

Frustrated, the man clicked his tongue.

“Can’t understand plain speech, can you? Didn’t I say I’d exchange it for something better?”

“Can’t understand plain speech, huh? Didn’t I say we have no business with you?”

Repenhardt mocked him, deliberately parroting his words. The man’s face twisted in anger.

“This bastard…”

The men accompanying the middle-aged man also turned visibly red with anger. It seemed a fight was inevitable, prompting Repenhardt to discreetly protect Siris and Sillan.

However, unexpectedly, the man quickly backed down.

“Hmm, quite the unique fellow. Well, I can’t force you. You must be quite fond of that elf slave?”

And with that, he peacefully retreated, leading his group away towards the other end of the street. His departure was a stark contrast to his previous arrogant tone.

“What’s with that guy?”

Repenhardt let out a laugh, feeling somewhat baffled. Sillan, too, couldn’t help but snicker at the man’s abrupt change of attitude.

“What a strange fellow we’ve encountered.”