Labyrinth Restaurant

"We've brought a customer. I say."

Mr 'Smiley', who entered the building before me, said so to the person who was inside.

The person was a beautiful blonde girl who looked like she had spinning sunlight, about early to mid teens.

She is a beautiful girl with such a mysterious atmosphere that even I of the same sex can unexpectedly be seen.

The girl in the service clothes admits we are...

"Welcome!

and welcomed us with a sales smile without any mystical shards.

We went into the store and were led to our seats.

What was going on in the store was totally that of the restaurant.

Several table seats and counter seats are decorated with good-quality accessories and flowers everywhere.

Things didn't go with my head, I was confused and guided, but I stayed, but I finally calmed down a little after drinking the cold served.

Are those blonde girls the creators (masters) of Mr 'Smiley'?

Even so, why would you do a cook in a place like this?

There are endless questions.

Even to hear the story, 'Smiley' was gone at some point.

Unintentionally, I could come to a strange restaurant, the original purpose of coming to this labyrinth, but I'm no longer in the mood of purely enjoying cooking.

Surprise, fright and suspicion accumulate too much to know what you should do.

I will try to turn all over the menu that has somehow been carried with the cold with my confused head.

But as I casually looked at the page, I immediately noticed something strange.

It's not just the name and description of the dish on the menu, it's the pictures of the dish. There is no such thing as photography, at least as far as I know, in this world.

And there are many strange things about the dish itself. There are several names for Earth's cuisine that can't be found in this world. Omelette, hamburger, curry rice, parfait, and much more.

Could it be that Mr. 'Master' is the same Earthlings as me? The question arises:

... but when I found some kind of dish in the menu, I blew it out of my head in a flash of doubt or something.

A certain kind of menu is Japanese food. It tastes like nostalgia with miso and soy sauce.

I was also studying homemade condiments from soybeans this past year, but in the end I didn't succeed. Sometimes there were dishes on the menu with them that were so frantic that I could dream about them.

It is impossible to tell you to be patient in this situation. Because the Japanese blood flowing through my body is asking for miso at an instinctive level.

I shelf out all sorts of suspicions and order the dish of my choice from the blonde and wait in the mood of the dog who ate the food until it was brought in. Soon after I realized it, my buddies seemed to order the dishes that each of them cared about.

I waited about a dozen minutes, and the food came one after the other.

The hamburger and steak dishes were carried in front of my people, and the last dish I ordered was placed in front of me.

The scent of "Mackerel Stewed in Miso Setting Meal" that I asked for irritates the nasal cavity and is going to drain you unexpectedly.

I calm my mind and first taste it with a bite of memorial miso soup, tofu and walnuts.

The nostalgic taste stained my tongue, and my body, and... I was crying when I noticed it.

Japanese memories are remembered one after another because of the nostalgic flavors.

All sorts of memories of your father, your mother, your grandfather, your school, your friends, the stores you used to go to, the music and TV shows you liked, the important things and other things you didn't love kept coming to your mind,... and when I realized I was crying like a little kid screaming out loud.

My buddies look at me and they call out worried, but they couldn't afford to respond to that voice to me at this time.

It reminds me one after another of trying not to think about it until now, and the fear that I might never see my family again makes me think.

I want to see your father or mother.

I want my grandfather to teach me more cooking.

I want to go to school.

I want to see my friends.

There are countless other things I have left to do.

I don't like brave people anymore. I want to stop. Why me? I also feel like I accidentally said that while crying. But I can't really tell you that's not even in my heart right now. That's because I've just never been aware of it, and it's the real thing that's always been deep in my heart.

How much I would have cried with my tears and snot messing up my face as it was.

An hour or two, maybe more.

I was the only one in the store sometime when I realized it.

No, guess I stopped crying. An earlier blonde came out of the back of the store and offered me a towel. Probably the fact that I kept crying for a long time has made my face terrible, and I thankfully received a towel and wiped my face.

When she visited where my people were, she decided she should leave me alone crying and led me to an accommodation on the other tiers of the labyrinth.

I just want to thank you for that concern because I certainly wouldn't have heard of any consolation earlier.

But there's also enough to disrupt sales, such as crying for hours in a restaurant that's open when you think about it with some chilling heads. I can't complain even if they kick me out, but on the contrary, thank God you're paying attention to this. Embarrassing. In the meantime, I must first convey my apologies and gratitude.

And before I tried to say the following words...

"Alice, how are the customers?

And a brunette young man appeared from behind the store with those words in his mouth.

When I asked him, he said the young man was the owner of this store and the creator (master) of Mr. Smiley and the others. You think this man also made the dish that was served earlier, which is now cold and lowered?

The girl is named Alice and she works as a service in this store.

I first apologized for the inconvenience with the utmost sincerity and thanked them for their kindness.

But the two of you just humbly react by saying "don't mind" to your apology and "until you've done what's natural" to your words of gratitude. On the contrary......

"If you have a problem, why don't you tell us? Even if it's hard, it's a lot easier just to spill foolishness on someone."

And he told me.

I also wondered if it would be so sweet after all the inconvenience, but in the end I decided to ask the two of you for your stupidity. I cried a little refreshed, but I guess I still had a weak bug in my heart.

The three of us sat at the table and I talked pompous about what had happened since we had come to this world.

Being summoned as a brave man, traveling everywhere, helping people, being confused by the culture gap, and not being able to return to the original world unless the demon king is found, etc.

I feel like my heart has lightened up a little while talking about things. Looks like it wasn't a good idea to have been hoarding up without anyone to talk to after all.

But I think things have gotten kind of crazy with the store owner and Alice as we move on. I don't know, I don't know. Do you feel any kind of awkwardness?

Having told you everything I wanted to talk about over time while feeling subtle uncomfortable, I felt so calm that I haven't been here lately.

But such a tranquillity in my mind will be broken shortly after this in a completely unexpected way.

The store owner said something awkward.

"Um... actually, I know what you're looking for..."

What do you mean?

"You know, I'm sorry, I'm the Demon King."

"To?"

I don't understand the meaning of words, and accidentally make a loose voice between them.

And Alice, who raised her hand small, continued to make further bomb remarks.

"... by the way, I'm a former demon king. Um, I'm sorry for the inconvenience..."

"Huh?"