I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World
Chapter 55: Fast Food?

Chapter 55: Fast Food?

The sound of the stream filled the quiet as Lyra stared at Inigo with a raised brow.

"A business?" she repeated. "You just bought a house, and now you want to open a business?"

Inigo chuckled, leaning back on the bench. "I never said I was going to open a blacksmith shop or run an apothecary."

"Then what?" Lyra tilted her head, curious.

"I want to open a food place," Inigo said simply, his gaze drifting to the swaying branches above them.

Lyra blinked. "A food place?"

He nodded.

She leaned forward slightly, both amused and intrigued. "Wait, you can cook?"

Inigo grinned. "I can do more than just boil water and burn toast, yes. Back in my homeland, I used to cook for myself all the time. And well—there’s this one dish I’ve been missing like hell."

"Is it soup?" Lyra guessed. "Or maybe a stew?"

"Nope."

"Roasted boar?"

"Not even close," Inigo said, clearly enjoying the guessing game. "It’s something called... a hamburger."

There was a beat of silence as Lyra’s face shifted from confusion to suspicion. "Ham... burger?"

"Yup."

"That sounds like you’re making a burger out of ham."

"That’s what most people think," he said with a laugh. "But actually, it’s made of beef. Ground beef, to be precise. Shaped into a patty, cooked, and sandwiched between two halves of soft bread. Then you can add cheese, lettuce, onions, pickles, sauce—whatever you want."

Lyra’s eyes grew wider the more he explained. "Wait, wait, slow down. Bread and meat... stacked? Together?"

Inigo nodded, his tone mockingly solemn. "Behold: the noble hamburger. King of simple pleasures. And then there’s the sidekick—fries."

Lyra frowned slightly. "Fries?"

"Thin strips of potato. Fried in oil until they’re golden and crispy. Sprinkle some salt on them, dip them in sauce. Divine."

She leaned back, still trying to picture what he described. "So... it’s not a stew or a roast, but something handheld?"

"Exactly."

"And people eat this? Like, on purpose?"

"People line up for it back where I’m from," Inigo said, laughing. "Fast, satisfying, cheap. It’s the ultimate comfort food."

Lyra rested her chin on her palm, eyes locked onto his. "Okay. You have my attention. But here’s the real question: can you actually make it?"

Inigo raised a brow. "Are you challenging me?"

"Absolutely."

He stood and dusted off his coat. "Then let’s go shopping."

The local marketplace in Elandra was still humming with energy by the time they arrived. Merchants shouted their wares, children darted between stalls, and the scent of spices, fresh bread, and roasted meats filled the air.

Inigo walked with purpose, scanning the stalls like a hunter. Lyra trailed beside him, half curious, half skeptical.

"Alright," he muttered. "We need beef, eggs, bread, potatoes, onions. Maybe cheese if they have anything soft."

"Are you sure this isn’t some kind of elaborate joke?" Lyra asked as he inspected a slab of beef from a butcher’s stall.

"If it is, I’ve committed years of my life to the punchline."

He handed over several silver coins for a pound of minced beef, then found some soft white bread rolls from a nearby baker. The potatoes came next, thick-skinned and firm—perfect for frying.

Lastly, he bartered for a block of cheese and a small pouch of ground pepper.

Back at his new home, Inigo set the groceries on the clean kitchen counter. The hearth still needed kindling, but once the fire was lit and a flat iron pan was placed over it, the room filled with the crackle and warmth of old-world cooking.

Lyra took a seat at the small table, resting her chin on her hands. "Alright, show me what you’ve got."

Inigo smiled and got to work.

He shaped the ground beef into two thick patties, seasoned them with salt and pepper, and set them on the sizzling pan. The sound of meat searing filled the room, followed by the rich, savory aroma of cooking beef.

"Gods, that smells good already," Lyra admitted, eyes widening.

"I told you."

Next, he peeled and cut the potatoes into thin strips. They went into a separate pan of bubbling oil he’d prepared using rendered boar fat and vegetable oil. The potatoes hissed and sizzled, turning from pale to golden brown as he stirred them gently.

He sliced the bread rolls, grated a bit of cheese, and prepped the onions—sautéed lightly until they turned translucent and sweet.

Once the patties were cooked and rested, he layered them between the bread with cheese, onions, and a spread made from crushed pickled herbs and a touch of local mustard.

He placed one plate in front of Lyra with a portion of fries beside it. The burger didn’t look extravagant—just rustic, slightly uneven, and wrapped in parchment to keep it together—but the smell was unlike anything she’d encountered before.

She stared at it.

"Go on," Inigo urged. "Pick it up with your hands."

She hesitated, then followed his instruction. The bread was warm, the cheese slightly melted. She took a bite.

Her eyes lit up instantly.

The table fell silent as Lyra chewed slowly, thoughtfully, then took another bite—this time faster.

"Oh my gods," she mumbled, mouth still half-full. "What is this?"

"I told you."

"It’s so... rich. But also simple. The meat is tender, the onions are sweet, and the bread’s perfect."

She grabbed a few fries and popped one in her mouth.

"These are crunchy," she said, delighted. "Like roasted but crisp."

Inigo leaned back with a smug smile. "Welcome to fast food."

She set the burger down after a few more bites and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"This is so delicious—If you can get people to try this," she said, "you’ll make a fortune."

"That’s the idea," Inigo said. "I’ve been thinking—set up a small shop near the plaza. Nothing fancy, just a clean stall or corner building. Menu with only a few items: hamburger, fries, maybe some kind of drink."

Lyra nodded. "Start small, then expand once people get hooked."

"Exactly."

"But there’s one catch."

Inigo raised a brow. "What’s that?"

Lyra leaned forward, grinning. "You’re going to need help. You think you can run the shop, cook, take orders, clean, and manage supplies all by yourself?"

"...No," he admitted.

"Good. Because I want in."

"Eh?"

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