Starting the Strategy from Frieren

"Woohoo~ Keep the music going, and keep dancing!"

The Village of the Sword was alive with energy that night. Bonfires blazed under the open sky as adventurers and hunters celebrated their harrowing yet triumphant hunt. Laughter, singing, and clumsy but spirited dancing filled the air. For many, it was a much-needed release from the grim reality of survival.

Among the revelers, the blonde captain stole the spotlight. To everyone's surprise, he was an expert street dancer. He placed a small round shield on the ground, spun atop it with a push of his head, and instantly drew wild cheers.

Ivan, however, was less of a performer. With a plate piled high with food, he found a quiet spot to squat down. As he savored the rugged cuisine, his eyes wandered over the joyful chaos—a smile tugging at his lips.

Amidst the revelry, a delicate young girl hesitantly approached him, cradling a bowl of soup. Her freckled face glowed under the firelight.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Ivan?" she asked shyly.

"Yes, I am. But 'Mr.' makes me sound old. Just call me Ivan," he replied with an easy smile.

"But... that doesn't seem proper! You saved my father's life! My father was the hunter you met dismantling that trap. When he told me what happened, I had to come and thank you in person!"

She hurried to introduce herself. "I'm Martina. Oh no, I should've said that earlier! And I made this soup! It's full of ingredients to help you recover—it's my way of saying thank you!"

Martina's words spilled out in a rush, leaving her breathless and flustered. She stood awkwardly, her freckled cheeks turning even redder under Ivan's amused gaze.

"Take a seat," Ivan offered, shifting to make room. "Relax. It's not like you're reporting war intel. No pressure."

Martina hesitated before settling beside him. After a few deep breaths, she managed to calm herself.

"Thank you so much for saving my reckless father. And not just him—without you, the hunt would've ended in disaster. We wouldn't be celebrating like this right now. I'm so grateful."

She held out the bowl of soup. "Please, try it! I made it with all my heart."

Ivan took the bowl with both hands. Out of habit, he scanned it with his system. It was safe, packed with nutrients, and… overwhelmingly fragrant.

Martina beamed. "My father loved it! He said it was so good, he fainted after just one sip!"

Ivan paused mid-sip, his expression stiffening. His composure—unshaken by battles against demons or dragons—wavered. If not for the system's confirmation, he might've thought Martina was trying to poison him.

"How is it?" she asked, her hopeful eyes shining.

"...It's… extraordinary."

Indeed, it was. Ivan couldn't fathom how one dish could perfectly combine sweet, sour, bitter, salty, and spicy in a single bite. It was unforgettable—though not in a pleasant way. A dizzying wave of euphoria washed over him, leaving his brain oddly numbed.

Martina clapped her hands excitedly. "If you like it, I can bring you another bowl!"

"Uh… one bowl is enough. This is the kind of flavor you savor in small amounts. Let's save the rest for another time."

"That makes sense!" Martina agreed, her enthusiasm undampened.

Despite her obliviousness, Ivan knew he had to act fast. He discreetly stored the soup in his spatial ring, pretending to drink it all.

"Hmm, not bad," he said, handing back the empty bowl. "But have you tasted your own cooking before?"

Martina's expression fell. "I… lost my sense of taste when I was little. A bad fever took it away."

"I see. That's tough, but you can still improve. Watch how others cook, especially how they use seasonings. Practice that, and your food will get better."

Her mood brightened instantly. "That's such great advice! Thank you, Ivan!"

As they spoke, a tipsy female mage from Ivan's adventurer team sauntered over and plopped herself down on his other side.

"Well, well, Ivan, our hero of the night," she teased, her voice syrupy with mischief. Leaning against him, she pressed closer than necessary, her playful eyes gleaming. "Hiding over here instead of joining the party? Whispering sweet nothings to this little lady?"

"N-no! It's not like that!" Martina stammered, her face burning red. "I—I just came to thank him!"

"Oh, don't let me stop you," the mage purred, clearly enjoying Martina's flustered state.

Martina abruptly stood, her embarrassment reaching its peak. "I just remembered—my father's still lying on the ground! I have to check on him!"

She fled, leaving Ivan to sigh and glance at the mage. "Was that really necessary?"

The mage grinned wickedly. "Oh, absolutely. Someone has to keep you on your toes, Ivan."