As twilight deepened, the empty shop grew dim. A woman in a kimono stood silently at the entrance, her head bowed.
A chill ran down Lance's spine.
No way… don't tell me she's a ghost…
Once, he would've laughed at the thought. But after experiencing dimensional travel firsthand, ghosts didn't seem so impossible anymore. That didn't make him any less afraid.
Still, fear or not, he couldn't just stand there doing nothing.
Steeling himself, he spoke again.
"Customer, would you like to order something?"
"..."
No response. The silence thickened, pressing against his nerves. Instinctively, he took a step back.
Strong arms or not, all that muscle meant nothing in the face of the unknown.
If things went bad, maybe he could run upstairs, jump out a window-
At that moment, the front door suddenly creaked open.
"Nezuko! Come back!"
Following a panicked shout, a young man with what looked like burn scars on his forehead stood before the so‑called "female ghost," his face full of tension.
But Lance finally let out a breath of relief, because the "ghost," who had completely ignored him earlier, turned at the sound of that voice.
She still looked eerie, but at least now he knew she wasn't some mindless apparition.
What Lance didn't know was that the young man, Kamado Tanjirō, was even more nervous than he was.
After finally passing his qualification test to become a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, he'd set off with his sister to find the one responsible for turning her into a demon. But along the way, his sister, Kamado Nezuko, had suddenly leapt out of the wooden box he carried on his back and run off into the woods.
Though trained in the "Breath of Water" and seasoned by countless battles, his panic had broken his breathing form for a moment, slowing him down. When he finally traced her scent to a small roadside shop, his heart nearly stopped... he feared she'd caused trouble.
Attacking someone wasn't what worried him, he trusted Nezuko completely but drawing attention was another matter entirely.
To his relief, when he burst through the door, there was no battle inside. Nezuko just stood quietly near the entrance. Then a voice spoke up:
"Two guests, huh? What would you like to eat?"
Lance didn't know what situation was unfolding, but he still addressed them politely.
He already understood that the shop he was in was no ordinary place. The door itself probably allowed dimensional travel; that alone was enough to terrify anyone. His first few customers had already proven that "normal" hardly applied here after all, what kind of person had a glowing halo floating over their head like that courier from before?
So, Lance chose to trust the rule of the shop: whoever came through that door was simply a guest. But he kept himself ready to bolt, just in case.
Thankfully, it didn't seem he'd need to run. The boy raised his head and stared at the hanging menu above the counter.
Unlike modern customers, living in the Taishō era made the prices appear differently to him:
"Hunter's Buffet — 61 sen
Apple Pie — 9 sen 7 rin
Fried Rice — 5 sen 1 rin"
A little expensive, he thought, but perhaps that was because the restaurant was hidden in such a remote spot.
He'd eaten some rice balls earlier as dinner, but when he glanced at Nezuko beside him, he sighed.
Judging from the owner's reaction, she must have scared him. I should at least pay for the trouble.
After a short hesitation, he finally made up his mind.
"Boss! One order of… fried rice, please!"
Yes, though he wished he could do more, his savings as a new Demon Slayer were minimal. Most had to be kept for necessities. One fried rice alone already costs nearly half a day's expenses; during this period, people rarely spent more than ten sen a day.
"Only one?"
Lance glanced at the girl hiding behind the boy, who seemed frightened, and couldn't help asking.
"She's already eaten," Tanjirō replied quickly, his tone too eager to sound natural.
Lance easily saw through the lie but chose not to question it. She was just another guest or half of one. It didn't matter.
"Have a seat. It'll be ready soon."
He turned back to the kitchen, leaving the siblings alone. Tanjirō, seeing him go without suspicion, finally let out a long sigh.
Thank goodness he didn't ask more questions.
While Tanjirō marvelled quietly at the strange furniture of this well‑kept establishment, the kitchen door opened again and Lance emerged, carrying a steaming plate of fried rice.
"Please enjoy."
The aroma said it all. Premium ingredients met expert skill: the scent of hot rice and soft egg mingled, lifted gently by a trace of scallion. Modest, yet irresistibly rich. The instant Tanjirō smelled it, his stomach nearly cried out in joy.
Still, he didn't forget his manners.
"Itadakimasu!"
He dug in eagerly, his cheerful energy spreading through the quiet shop—and it made Lance smile too. But as the boy ate, he noticed an odd detail: today's fried rice ranked even higher in the system than before, 78 percent.
That was strange. He'd been in the forge all afternoon, not the kitchen. Shouldn't his performance have slipped?
Same ingredients, same knife… could refining metal earlier have improved my fire control?
Maybe. Only one way to find out later.
Lost in thought, Lance's gaze drifted and caught sight of the sword at Tanjirō's waist.
His eyes lit up. A katana?!
(Chapter 8)