"This… it's shrimp!!"
His voice was loud enough that the nearby children turned to look. Old merchant Thomson chuckled, picking at his teeth with his nails before answering in his deep, gravelly voice.
"Shrimp…? Hoho! Who calls them shrimp around here, little one? We call them Clawwin."
Arthur stepped closer, eyes wide, staring at the dozen or so Clawwins wriggling in the basket. Their gleaming claws sparkled like sharpened metal blades. As they moved, thin streaks floated through the air, like wind-cutting blades slicing even dust particles.
"Uncle Thomson… these shrimp—uh, I mean Clawwins—how much are they? I've never seen you bring them to the hotel before," Arthur asked.
Thomson raised his eyebrows and laughed. "Hahaha! The hotel? What would you do with Clawwins? Nobody eats them here! People just use the claws as blades or peel off the shells to polish armor. Eat them? You want your intestines to spill before reaching your mouth?"
Arthur fell silent for a moment, then a soft growl escaped his stomach. Memories of his past life rushed back—grilled shrimp with spicy seafood sauce, garlic pepper fried shrimp, steamed shrimp in milk… his mouth watered.
"Hmm… so they don't eat shrimp here?" he murmured to himself.
"Hmph! Talking weird again, aren't you?" Thomson crossed his arms, looking at him in confusion.
Arthur clenched his teeth and looked up seriously. "Uncle Thomson, can you sell them to me?"
The old merchant laughed heartily. "Sell them to you? Hahaha! Well, if you want to keep them in a pond for fun, fine! But be careful—the claws are imbued with wind magic, as sharp as a sword. One careless poke, and you'll lose a finger in strips!"
He deliberately lifted one Clawwin to show Arthur. "Snap!" The claw cut through the air, tearing a scrap of cloth on the basket in half, like a razor.
But instead of being scared, Arthur's eyes sparkled, gleaming as if he'd found gold.
"Alright… here's the deal. Give me these ten Clawwins for free now, and tonight, come to the hotel kitchen—I promise you'll taste something unforgettable!"
Thomson blinked, then burst into laughter. "Hahaha! You sure talk big! Fine, I'm curious too. Let's see what these Clawwins, which nobody dares to eat, will become in your hands."
He grabbed the basket and shoved the ten Clawwins into a leather bag for Arthur. "Take them! But if you don't surprise me, maybe I'll keep you instead of the Clawwins, hahaha!"
After placing the paper and ink for Old Sir Cyrus, Arthur almost ran down to the hotel kitchen, heart pounding like a child with a new toy.
His mind overflowed with memories—the sound of sizzling oil, the fragrant aroma of garlic and pepper, the crunch of three-spice fried shrimp he used to serve at his old Bangkok restaurant. And now… he had both "Clawwins" and "Three Friends" (Sam Gleu) in his hands!
"Mother, may I use the kitchen for a bit? I got new ingredients and want to try something," Arthur said, raising both hands in a small, polite gesture, eyes sparkling.
~Destructive gaze activated~
Sara sighed, folding her arms, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "Alright… but don't touch the main kitchen ingredients. The caravan merchants will be coming tonight, and if you lose even a single slice of bread, I'll have you scrub pots for a week!"
"Yes, Mother!" Arthur grinned as if he'd just won a battle.
When his mother left for the bar, he hurried back, placing the basket of Clawwins on the table. Their claws still glimmered like hidden blades. Beside them were the spices he had acquired that morning—garlic, pepper, and coriander root, the Three Friends.
Arthur took a deep breath. "Alright… it's time to make legendary Three-Spice Fried Clawwins!"
He grabbed a knife, but as he leaned over the Clawwins, one swiped its claw at the table—snap!—splinters flew dangerously close to his nose. "Hey, hey, calm down, friends! I'm making you a legendary dish, not fighting you in battle!" he muttered, negotiating peace.
He draped a thick cloth over the Clawwins before carefully starting to clean and prepare them. The claws still emitted wind magic, tearing the cloth unless pressed firmly. Once they calmed, he carefully removed each Clawwin. The flesh inside shimmered faintly, like underwater crystals.
"Even prettier than shrimp back home…" he murmured, then picked up a mortar, adding the Three Friends and pounding them until their aroma filled the kitchen.
The tick-tick-tick of the pestle matched the rising scent of garlic and pepper, almost overwhelming his senses.
Thinking that soon the Three-Spice Clawwins would hit the hot oil, Arthur grinned.
He set a large pan on the stove, poured in clean oil, and immediately the aroma of sizzling began to waft.
"Alright… I'm entrusting the future to these Three-Spice Fried Clawwins."
He added the crushed Three Friends into the hot oil—sizzle!—the fragrance of garlic, pepper, and coriander root spread like a spell.
Then, gently placing the marinated Clawwins into the pan, the shells emitted a faint blue glow. The meat twitched as if resisting, the wind magic radiating in tiny waves—whoosh!—making oil droplets jump.
"Wow… still fighting the pan, huh?" Arthur laughed, pressing down firmly with his spatula.
The sizzling intensified, echoing like dozens of claps. The Three Friends' aroma soaked into the Clawwins. Their translucent flesh gradually turned golden-orange, as if polished gems, with faint streams of wind magic misting around them like magical fog.
He quickly flipped them one by one. The once-terrifying silver claws now looked like heavenly ornaments.
The sizzling slowed. Arthur plated the Clawwins on a wooden dish, drizzling the fragrant Three Friends mixture over them. The aroma immediately wafted out of the kitchen.
Dinggg… You have unlocked a sub-profession: Cook.
The kitchen door opened—swoosh!—Sara peeked in. "Arthur! What are you doing? Why… why does it smell… like this?!"