I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World
Chapter 59: Someone Causing Trouble

Chapter 59: Someone Causing Trouble

The sun had barely passed its zenith when the bell above The Mcronald’s door rang for the twenty-third time that morning. The line, which had already begun coiling halfway down the cobbled street, now glimmered with silk robes and velvet cloaks—the unmistakable mark of upper-class wealth.

Lyra peeked out the window and raised an eyebrow. "Did a noble carriage overturn somewhere? What’s with all the glitz?"

Inigo didn’t even look up from the fryer. "I’ve been expecting this."

"You have?"

"Oh yeah," he said as he sprinkled a dash of imported pepper over the patties. "You introduce something popular, and eventually, the nobles come sniffing around. Give it ten minutes, we’ll have our first entitled brat acting like they own the building."

Sure enough, as the door creaked open again, in stepped a group of five—students from the Royal Magic Academy of Eldrath. Two girls with perfectly curled hair whispered behind folding fans, a lanky boy with glowing runes etched along his gloves glanced around with disdain, and at the center stood a strikingly handsome youth with slick platinum hair and an expression permanently stuck between boredom and arrogance.

The first girl stepped up to the counter. "We were told there was something... palatable here."

"You heard right," Lyra said smoothly. "Welcome to The Mcronald. Menu’s right there. Order at the counter."

The girl stared at the menu as though deciphering ancient runes. "...What is a burger?"

Inigo leaned over. "Grilled beef, seasoned, wrapped in a bun. Crispy potatoes on the side. Think of it as a noble’s roast dinner—but handheld and faster."

There was a pause.

"I suppose I’ll take one," the girl said, raising her chin. "If it’s as revolutionary as people claim."

Soon enough, the rest of the students placed their orders, reluctantly dropping silver coins into the payment tray as if they feared their noble lineage might be tarnished by mere commerce. Yet, once they sat down and actually took their first bites, their posture shifted—shoulders relaxed, brows lifted, eyes widened.

"...By the spirits," one of them whispered, "this is revolutionary."

Inigo smirked from behind the grill. "Told you."

More students continued to arrive. The magic academy was clearly on break, and word had spread fast. Even a few of the professors trailed in—distinguished figures in long enchanted coats who pretended to be unimpressed until they’d tasted the fries.

Amidst the growing bustle, Inigo noticed a disturbance near the back of the dining area.

Two students—a girl and a boy—stood near the corner. The girl wore a crisp academy robe and had long lustrous platinum hair tied neatly in a ribbon. She was clearly trying to move away, but the boy, with rich black hair and a smug smile, stepped forward, cornering her with a hand on the wall beside her shoulder.

"Come now, Serina," he purred, voice slick with false charm. "Why continue pretending you don’t want this? Your family and mine have discussed this already. You’re to be my bride—it’s already decided."

"I never agreed to anything," Serina said coldly. "And I’m here for lunch, not for your ego."

Inigo’s eyes narrowed. He stepped out from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel.

The noble boy didn’t notice—he was too busy smirking down at Serina. "There’s no reason to resist. You’re beautiful, I’m powerful, and together we could be—"

"Hey."

The boy turned, blinking.

Inigo stood a few feet away, calm but firm.

"Table service only," Inigo said, voice cool as winter steel. "No harassment allowed. You either sit and eat, or you leave."

The noble student raised an eyebrow. "And who are you to tell me what to do?"

"I’m the owner."

The smirk returned. "Owner of a... grease hut? Do you even know who I am?"

"Don’t care," Inigo said, not missing a beat.

The noble’s smile twisted. "My father sits on the Ministry of Trade and Industry. One word from me and this shop closes by tomorrow."

"Then I guess you’ll have to make that word count," Inigo replied. "But right now, you’re disrupting my business and bothering a customer. So this is your last warning."

Gasps rippled through the room. Even Lyra had frozen, tray in hand.

The boy stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly with magic. "I challenge you to a duel."

Inigo blinked. "Of course you do."

This was expected from his station. When cornered, they would try to save their ego by challenging someone confronting them.

"Do you accept?"

"I accept the part where you get the hell out of my shop."

The noble raised a hand, gathering mana at his palm. "Coward. Typical lowborn behavior."

"Stop that Cernan," Serina pleaded but he ignored.

"You really want to do this?" Inigo’s brows knitted as he went on a serious mode.

"Of course I do, this will be—huh?" Cernan noticed something. "Hoh...you are a gold-ranked adventurer?"

"That’s right I do," Inigo replied simply. "You do know what that means."

"I do, and I am not even scared. After all, adventurers are just a bunch of ragtags, unsuccessful lowborns who play with blades because they’ll never hold real power."

The words echoed through The Mcronald, silencing chatter and clattering trays. Every noble student within earshot turned to look. Some gasped, others watched with amused curiosity. Lyra didn’t move, but her eyes were locked on Inigo, already prepared to intervene if things got out of hand.

But Inigo?

He just sighed.

"Right," he muttered. "And here I thought you’d be original."

Cernan stepped forward, a faint magical aura flickering to life around him. His ornate academy uniform shimmered with subtle enchantments—defensive wards stitched into gold-threaded hems, a mana amplification crest embedded in the collar. He moved with the lazy confidence of someone who’d never lost a duel he didn’t start.

"I, Cernan Vellmont of House Vellmont," he said grandly, projecting his voice for maximum attention, "challenge this... cook, this grease-smeared commoner, to a formal magical duel."

Gasps again. Someone near the front dropped their drink.

Inigo scratched his cheek. "Right in the middle of lunch rush?"

Cernan sneered. "Are you backing out again?"

"No," Inigo said, calmly walking out from behind the counter. He untied his apron and handed it to Lyra, who took it without a word. He cracked his knuckles. "I’m just trying to decide whether to beat you fast or give the crowd a little show."

"You’ll regret mocking me."

Serina, still standing a few steps behind, looked torn between alarm and awe. "You don’t have to do this, sir."

"I’m not doing this for pride," Inigo replied. "I’m doing it so people like him stop thinking they can throw their name around and treat others like trash."

Cernan’s smirk deepened. "Big words for someone who flips meat."

"Bigger fists too," Inigo muttered. "Let’s take this outside."