Menu No. 8 What the did you do!?

The night had grown quiet. Drachenfall, a town that never truly slept, finally seemed to exhale as the torches in the square burned low and the chatter of adventurers dwindled into the muffled hum of taverns. I lay on my bed, staring at a small bottle of cold brew coffee resting on the bedside table. The dark liquid glimmered faintly in the lamplight, and for a moment, I found myself smiling.

Who would have thought that something so ordinary back home could feel like the most valuable treasure in this strange world?

A knock at the door startled me.
“Daiki? Are you awake?”

It was Alisa’s voice—calm, yet tinged with hesitation.

“Yeah, come in,” I replied, sitting up and placing the bottle on the small table beside me.

She pushed the door open, her silver hair gleaming faintly in the lantern light. Her expression was softer than usual, but her brows carried a weight that told me she wasn’t here for idle talk.

“Do you have a moment?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, gesturing for her to sit.

Instead of sitting, though, she walked straight to the table and eyed the bottle.

“That drink… is that what you gave Grendol earlier today? He seemed so full of energy afterward. I’ve never seen someone recover that quickly.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Ah… yeah. That was it.”

Her sharp gaze pinned me in place. “What exactly did you give him?”

I hesitated, then stood, motioning for her to follow me. We walked down the narrow hallway and into the small storage room where I kept my supplies. There, on a wooden crate, sat a small sack of beans and a few bottles of cold brew. I picked up the sack and poured a handful of glossy, dark-brown beans into my palm.

“These,” I said simply.

Alisa raised a brow. “Seeds? What kind?”

“Coffee beans,” I explained. “You probably don’t know them. They’re roasted seeds that you can brew into a drink. The bottle I gave Grendol was made from these.”

She leaned closer, her green eyes narrowing. “Coffee…? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Yeah, I figured.” I chuckled nervously. “I found these beans mixed with food supplies you were about to throw away last week. They were still good, so I decided to process them. It’s… something from my world, actually. I brewed it into this drink.”

I held up a bottle of cold brew, the dark liquid shifting gently inside.

For a moment, Alisa said nothing. She just stared—first at the bottle, then at the beans in my hand. Her face grew pale, her lips parting slightly. Then, suddenly—

“Do… Do you know what the hell that is?! Mika!”

Her voice cracked into a half-shout, half-gasp, the kind of tone that made my stomach drop.

“What?” I blinked, completely thrown off. “It’s just coffee. What’s wrong?”

Her hand trembled as she pointed at the beans. “That—that’s not just some drink! That’s a Demon Fruit seed!”

I froze. “Wait . . .  say that again?”

She stepped back, clutching her chest. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? People who consume the fruit from which those seeds come… they die! They collapse, poisoned beyond saving. That fruit only grows near active dungeons, feeding on the miasma. It’s forbidden—accursed!”

Her words echoed in my ears, but it didn’t make sense. Demon Fruit? Poison? I had just brewed coffee. Back home, people drank it every morning to stay awake.

“…But, I drank it too,” I said slowly, my voice almost defensive.

Alisa’s eyes widened. “You—YOU DRANK IT?!”

“Yeah… yesterday, actually. With Grendoll, . . . then two of us . . . it’s not bad, . . . right?”

She almost shouted, her composure unraveling. “ARE YOU INSANE?!”

“Why? I feel fine.” I raised a brow. “Grendol felt better too. Look, it’s harmless.”

“Harmless?!” She threw her hands in the air. “That’s a cursed fruit! We burn them on sight, Mika! No one survives eating it—no one!”

I stared down at the beans in my palm, suddenly aware of how tense the air had become. “…But this isn’t the fruit itself,” I said firmly. “These are roasted seeds. Trust me, they’re safe. They don’t poison; they heal, they energize. You saw Grendol yourself. He’s proof.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to argue, I could tell, but hesitation flickered in her eyes. Finally, she exhaled, rubbing her temple.

“…You’re saying these ‘coffee beans’ are safe. That you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” I answered. “I’ve lived with this drink my whole life. It’s not evil, Alisa. If anything, it’s medicine.”

For a long while, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint crackle of torches outside. Then, Alisa lowered her voice, almost whispering:

“…Don’t tell anyone where this came from. If the guild finds out, they’ll destroy it. And they’ll destroy you with it.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

Her gaze softened, though her worry didn’t fade. “…You’re reckless, Mika Daiki. But maybe…” She sighed. “Maybe your recklessness is exactly what Grendol needed.”

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Next day on the morning, another knock came at my door. This time, it wasn’t Alisa—it was the entire Oathbound party. Their leader, Vanguard, a the archerman with an easy smile, bowed his head slightly.

“On behalf of Grendol,” he said warmly, “thank you. Truly. We’ve faced many dangers together, but today could’ve ended differently if not for you.”

I blinked, caught off guard by their sincerity. “I just did what I could.”

But then Rufus grinned, his companions stepping closer with eager eyes. “Actually Daiki, we came for something else. That drink you gave Grendol… can we buy some?”

“Buy…?” I hesitated.

“Yes,” another chimed in. “We’ve never seen him recover so quickly! If it helps us fight, we’ll pay anything.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s… not for sale. At least, not normally.”

“Aw, come on!” Rufus leaned in, grinning like a mischievous child. “Just one bottle. Please? For the sake of Oathbound?”

The others joined in, their voices overlapping in cheerful insistence. It was overwhelming—the kind of warm, playful pressure I wasn’t used to. Finally, I sighed and relented.

“…Fine. But only one bottle.”

Their cheer erupted at once. I handed them a small bottle—barely 200 milliliters—and warned, “Only one small cup per day, got it? Too much dose will keep you awake all night.”

They nodded eagerly, clutching the bottle like it was liquid gold.

“…And one more thing,” I added. My voice grew firm. “This stays between us. Don’t tell anyone about this drink. Not where it came from, not what it is. Swear it.”

Vanguard placed a hand over his chest. “You have our word our savior Daiki.”

His companions echoed the same oath, their voices solemn despite their excitement.

As they left, Arumi’s words from earlier returned to me—how Oathbound was a party of misfits, people abandoned by their clans or cast out of their homes. Yet despite that, they had risen together, carving a reputation as one of Drachenfall’s strongest parties. Maybe that was why their warmth felt genuine.

Maybe that was why I couldn’t refuse them.

I leaned back against the door after they left, exhaling deeply. The secret of coffee in this world had just grown heavier. A dangerous fruit… cursed in their eyes. But in my hands, it was salvation.

And perhaps… something more.