Published: August 10, 2026
This is an elite chapter, but there's no gore.
At Sars's tavern, there was a party of adventurers.
Judging from the quality of their equipment, they were mid-tier adventurers. They didn't look especially caring, nor especially rough or unpopular. They were an utterly ordinary, stable party of five.
They matched the surrounding din, laughing loudly as if to stir it up even more.
Seeing that, the tavern staff member who passed by guessed with a knowing look that their request must have gone well today.
Most adventurers didn't have money left over from one day to the next, which meant they'd eat, drink, and make a commotion, conveniently contributing to the tavern's profits. So long as they didn't get too carried away and start wrecking the place, that was.
"Hey, can I get a refill?"
One of the adventurers called out to the staff member as he was about to pass by.
A frivolous-looking man with a loose grin was looking up at the staff member while shaking an empty plate in one hand.
From the bow hooked over the chair, it was clear he was an archer. The very used-looking bow made him seem like exactly the sort of mid-tier adventurer who had already been through his share of rough battles. It was an unadorned, sturdy, powerful bow.
"The same thing?"
"Yep."
"Same amount?"
"Yup."
The staff member repeated the question, just to be sure.
Because the now-empty shallow dish had been piled high with mini tomatoes until just a moment ago. No sauce, no dressing, not even cut or cooked—just mini tomatoes with the stems removed.
Who came to a tavern and wanted to gorge themselves on nothing but mini tomatoes?
Of course, it wasn't even on the menu to begin with. No one would expect that, after serving a dish they had half-doubted themselves when told to "just pile on the mini tomatoes," they would be asked for a refill on top of that.
"Mini tomatoes only?"
"Right, right."
Even after the repeated confirmation, the archer adventurer answered without a care.
In one hand he held a cheap ale. How many cups was this now, with mini tomatoes as his snack?
"Go on and give him some more, will ya?"
Suddenly, a gruff man who seemed to be the leader spoke up.
That cue brought the other members, who had been chatting among themselves, into the conversation with the staff as well.
"This guy's the type who won't budge on this, no matter what."
"I keep telling him if you're gonna spend money, get meat instead. What a waste."
"And in Sars, vegetables are stupid expensive too."
"Well, we don't have any land."
Though still unconvinced, the staff member took the empty plate.
It wasn't pleasant to be asked for ingredients that were normally cooked before serving, only to have them wanted as-is. Still, since they were paying properly, there was no reason to refuse.
"Make it a mountain, pleeease."
The archer adventurer grinned sheepishly.
Hair that looked like it would kick up dust with the slightest shake, skin tanned dark from frequent outdoor work. Those adventurer-like features, mixed with a narrow-eyed, careless smile, made him look even more like a playboy.
The staff member muttered inwardly that he was one of those types who were surprisingly common among adventurers, and gave his assent.
"You really like mini tomatoes, huh."
"Not really."
The unexpected answer from the person himself left the staff member thoroughly confused as he headed back to the kitchen.
Behind him, the gruff man sighed with an exasperated look and gave the archer adventurer a decent punch to the side with his fist.
"No matter how many years pass, I still don't get what the hell is with you and that."
"To me, the people around me are the weird ones. No one else seriously has that 'I want to eat this even though it's not especially tasty' thing?"
"Nope."
The instant he was answered, the archer adventurer tossed his legs out in front of him and looked up at the ceiling.
For him, this had been normal for a very long time. He didn't know exactly when it started, but by the time he was old enough to know better, he was already desperate to eat mini tomatoes.