# Straight arms, gaze and target in a straight line.
Inhale, exhale halfway. Stop.
Control the recoil and trembling, slowly pull the trigger with your index finger. Fire.
-Bang—!!
-Bang, bang—!!
The momentum from target recognition to aiming to firing takes less than a millisecond. Ivan pierced through twelve targets almost simultaneously while gauging the performance of the pistol.
"Wow, senior, you're really serious about this...?"
"Well done."
"No, um..."
It's common sense to check the performance and zero of weapons when there's an armory (shooting booth) near a security detail. In case of an unexpected incident, it's a place where weapons can be supplied.
Ivan received a giant doll as first prize from the bewildered Dmitri and handed it to Isabelle.
Amazing! Mumble mumble. Incredible! Chatter chatter. He heard such comments but ignored them. Hitting targets within 5m wasn't something worthy of praise.
"Next."
"Hmm... this old man is secretly enjoying this...?"
Isabelle's eyes sparkled as she clenched her fists.
"I love it! Let's crush this entire festival today!"
She nodded enthusiastically and took the lead.
Ivan was also satisfied with the flow of events. It was advantageous for his security mission to understand the location and characteristics of the booths, and if possible, to drain these kids' energy as much as possible.
Blindfolded pumpkin splitting with a wooden sword... hmm.
Isn't this a Japanese cultural thing? Ivan was confused.
"Here, put this on and start four steps back!"
"Hmm."
He wrapped the blindfold given confidently by the booth owner around his head and gauged the weight of the wooden sword. An ordinary item.
Of course, splitting a pumpkin with a wooden sword is not a technique beginners can perform. Pumpkins may look hard on the outside, but they're hollow crops that absorb impact.
To smash it with such a light wooden sword, one must deliver a precise strike at the exact point. Doing it blindfolded makes it twice as difficult.
While skilled swordsmen can gauge their direction even with closed eyes, aligning the sword path to strike with centimeter precision requires advanced techniques beyond repetitive practice.
-Crack!
Ivan removed the blindfold and handed the wooden sword dripping with juice to the booth owner.
After receiving meaningless praise for the fastest successful strike and another unnecessarily large doll, he passed it to Asidis and calmly turned his head.
"Next."
"This old man is really enjoying himself!!"
Isabelle seemed somehow extremely excited.
A traditional game of scooping small fish with an oiled paper net.
A booth that tests delicate fingertip sensitivity that could be used for survival techniques and trap disarmament.
"Next."
Throwing darts at a roulette.
A comprehensive assessment of dynamic visual acuity, reaction speed, and throwing technique. It could be classified as assassination skills.
-Next.
A traditional game of throwing small balls into rings.
Throwing small explosives was a basic fundamental, so Ivan could achieve a score difference that even Harry Potter catching the Snitch couldn't overcome.
"Next."
Isabelle, Asidis, and Elfihera received armfuls of dolls, candy sticks, blankets, and fish bowls that day.
It was only two hours into their exploration on the festival day.
This is unexpectedly fun.
When Isabelle first thought about going to the festival with this crazy old man, she hadn't anticipated this situation.
She thought he would just follow along like a doll, constantly saying things like "hmm" that made her impatient, not enjoying the festival so seriously.
"Mister, hehe, thank you."
"Hmm."
Although she wasn't the only one receiving them, Ivan distributed all the spoils obtained from sweeping through the stalls generously to his party members.
Isabelle hugged the giant bear (Krasilov's national animal) doll and smiled brightly. What did it matter if she gave up her turn a bit, since she had practically monopolized the entire morning.
"Okay, you've had enough playtime, right? Let's go eat something proper now! No, don't take that out! I mean a proper meal!"
Asidis grinned as she grabbed Ivan's arm and confidently led the way.
"What would you like to eat? To match uncle's taste, um... meat dishes? How about meat?"
"Do as you please."
Heading toward the street lined with restaurants and bars, Ivan shook his head slightly. These street foods are all the same anyway.
Cheap ingredients and strong spices thrown together, with terrible nutritional balance, just greasy foods served one after another.
While somewhat dissatisfied, he couldn't deny feeling a bit proud. After all, such abundant produce and lively streets were unimaginable just four years ago.
"Wow, there are so many people..."
Asidis whispered, leaning against Ivan's chest. Around lunchtime, this street lined with stalls was excessively crowded with people.
The savory smell of grilling meat vibrated from everywhere. Ivan lightly embraced Asidis, who was pressing heavily against him, to protect her while looking around.
The problem wasn't what to eat but finding a place to sit down first.
"Hey, broooother!!!"
Just then, a piercing voice was heard from far away. When Ivan turned to look, a familiar face was bouncing up and down waving.
It was Yu-jin.
"Brother! Over here! Here! Wow! It's really great to see you!"
"...?"
"Come quickly! We're doomed without you!!"
Indeed, the stall where Yu-jin stood had a lonely atmosphere despite the bustling market around it. Surprisingly, not a single customer was in sight.
The reason soon became clear. Passersby covered their noses and hurriedly walked away whenever they passed their booth.
Indeed, a familiar yet bizarre stench was flowing from the store.
"Ugh, is this pickled herring...?"
"No."
Ivan looked at Yu-jin with trembling eyes.
Yu-jin, and Oswald standing behind him. And Yuri too.
They were all watching him with confident... and warm eyes.
Come over here. Don't you recognize this smell?
Ah, yes.
That's right.
That's right. This is what it smelled like.
Ivan barely opened his parched lips to answer.
"It's... kimchi."
"...? You know this dish?"
"Know it... of course."
"I see... Um. Well, if it's food uncle likes, let's try it!"
Just from the smell, it seemed like some kind of fermented salted dish, but isn't this a Droan specialty?
Sure enough, the faces of Isabelle from Tilles and Elfihera from Kalion were already stiff.
Asidis triumphantly smiled as she led Ivan toward the store.
"How did you make this?"
"Pickled fish, vegetables, salt, and red pepper powder. Mix these in order, and surprisingly, it becomes kimchi!"
"...Amazing..."
Ivan was genuinely impressed. In the 21st century, among his many works created using modern sharp intellect, only things like nutrition bars still maintained their utility.
Indeed, with three Koreans present, they could even think of making kimchi directly.
Actually, this itself isn't strange. Preserving vegetables in salt and spices is common in Krasilov too. (Pickled carrots and mushrooms are made this way.)
But the idea of seasoning with fermented fish sauce and letting the pickled vegetables oxidize... is actually close to just letting food rot, so it's considered a somewhat unique cooking method.
Ivan looked down at the plate full of red cabbage with trembling eyes.
"Um, uncle. Uh... are you going to eat that?"
"..."
Though Asidis glanced nervously, Ivan didn't stop using his "chopsticks."
Chopsticks.
He fumbled a few times since it had been so long since he last held them, but that sensation. The feeling of old times being revived made Ivan shiver slightly.
-Crunch.
The uncooked cabbage crumbled crisply, and juice mixed with red pepper powder splattered around. Isabelle convulsed and stepped back.
And carefully, slowly. Ivan put a piece of kimchi in his mouth for the first time in 30 years.
-Crunch, crunch.
Kim Seon-woo suddenly awoke within him and screamed (he could hear up to "This isn't kimchi...!"), but Ivan quickly composed himself. Unlike picky modern people with narrow tastes, Ivan was an extremely tolerant and generous person.
Additionally, he only wanted to fully enjoy the emotion of this moment.
Like a meditating monk with a reverent heart, crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
"Do you have anything else?"
"We've prepared everything we could, brother. Hehehe..."
Yu-jin rubbed his hands together with a cunning smile.
"Kimchi stew, stir-fried kimchi, tofu kimchi, which would you like to try first?"
"Tofu...? You have tofu too?"
"We don't know how to make tofu, so we prepared something as similar as possible. It looks identical. Let's start with that!"
At Yu-jin's gesture, Oswald nervously served a large bowl.
Yu-jin set the bowl on the table with an exaggerated, respectful gesture and spoke.
"Our fine dining masterpiece, stir-fried kimchi with feta."
"Oh... ohh..."
Neat white cubes, somewhat misshapen in places. And underneath, a heap of stir-fried cabbage.
With a bit of imagination, it was exactly like tofu kimchi!
"Feta?"
"Yes, feta cheese. Traditional cheese made from sheep's milk. The taste is, uh... aside from that, it looks and feels exactly the same."
"Oh..."
Ivan picked up his chopsticks in admiration. Indeed, despite its firm texture, it crumbled when pressure was applied, not unlike aged tofu.
Taking a bite with some stir-fried cabbage, his mouth was filled with saltiness.
Feta cheese is one of the most extremely salty cheeses. And kimchi is basically a type of salted vegetable. When the synergy of the two combined, this honestly wasn't food that humans should eat.
But Ivan didn't mind. Taste wasn't what mattered.
-Crack!!
Magic power races through his nerves. With a surgeon's precision, he cuts off his sense of taste without the slightest error.
Inducing neural system overload, he focuses the raging magic power entirely on his sense of touch. Now, his tactile sense has become so sensitive that he can predict attacks just from the direction of swaying hair.
Employing all these skills, he slowly bit down with his molars.
-Crunch.
The "texture" commonly referred to during mastication is a complex harmony of taste and touch. Having given up taste might seem like losing half, but his superhuman sense of touch could feel every ingredient touching his tongue, molars, and gums, so it was fine.
The result of that beautiful combination is this.
Cheese chunks that have a texture very similar to dried tofu and even look like tofu.
Cabbage kimchi that's red, undercooked and crunchy, not wilted because the stir-frying was amateurish.
As he pressed both under his molars, enjoying the crisp rebound of vegetable stems and the soft crumbling texture of cheese...
What did taste matter? This was the sensation of home. And Ivan's extremely developed synesthesia had been trained to naturally associate touch with taste.
"Brother... brother? Are you crying right now?"
"...Excellent."
Among the three shocked transmigrators, the terrified Isabelle, Elfihera who spat everything out after one bite, and Asidis who held her nose while forcing pieces into her mouth one by one,
Ivan shed a single tear.
"Hey, student."
"Yes, customer!!"
A man chewing grilled meat gestured to the stall attendant.
The attendant ran over with a bright face to this customer who was paying suspiciously large amounts of money.
"Do you see that man sitting at that booth over there?"
"Yes, customer!"
"Could you deliver this to him?"
"What? Um... I just need to deliver it?"
"Please. This is for your trouble."
"Oh my!! You didn't have to! Yes, customer! I'll go right away!"
The attendant bowed his head several times and headed toward the bizarre stall with the terrible smell. To that strange man who was sitting with several others but eating alone at that booth that hadn't received a single customer all morning.
The attendant couldn't resist his curiosity and opened the note midway. The note contained only seemingly meaningless numbers written in disorder.
What is this, some kind of assignment?
With a thought befitting a college student, the attendant delivered the note to the man.
The man stared blankly at the note, then suddenly grabbed the attendant's nape and growled.
"Who sent this?"
Ivan forgot about the spilled kimchi stew (which neither contained kimchi nor was actually stew) and glared at the young student with a stupid expression.
The place the frightened student pointed to had no one sitting there.
"Senior."