Tale 02 — The Terror of the Golden Honey-Cakes

"Good evening, seekers of glory and drinkers of cheap ale! Every soul, no matter how armored, has a secret weakness. We think of adventurers as titans who stare down dragons, but they are just as human as you or I. In the tavern of the 'Iron Fist' Guild, a group of high-ranking heroes were recently discussing their deepest terrors. And it turns out, even the most fearsome among them has a secret that is... well, quite delicious."

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The tavern was thick with the smell of roasted boar and the heat of tall tales. Usually, the circular table was a battlefield of egos, but tonight, the conversation had turned toward a more vulnerable topic: what they truly feared.

"Listen, I’ve faced a three-headed Hydra in the Mourning Swamps," the Orc Warrior grunted, his massive arms trembling slightly. "But spiders... I can't stand them. Those eight skittering legs... just thinking about one crawling on my neck makes my skin crawl. Last night, I saw one in my room and spent the night shivering in the kitchen."

"Oh, how adorable," the Elf Mage sighed, swirling her glowing wine. "For me, it’s slugs. That mindless, slimy texture... it’s so revolting I want to blast them into the void with a fireball. If one ever fell on my shoulder while trekking through the woods, I’d retire from the Guild on the spot."

"Pah! You’re both soft," the Human Thief laughed, though his face was pale. "The only thing that truly terrifies me is a Debt Collector. Their emotionless 'Tax-Magic' is scarier than any Necromancy. Just imagining one waiting in a dark alley for my gold makes my heart stop."

In the shadows of the corner sat Zoltan the Dark Knight. He was a man of obsidian armor, known as one of the Guild's strongest. Tonight, however, he sat brooding over his black ale with a look of profound misery.

"What about you, Zoltan?" the Thief prodded. "Surely the Great Dark Knight has a nightmare? A soul-eating Lich? The breath of an Ancient Wyrm?"

Zoltan’s hand shook. He set his mug down with a heavy thud and whispered in a voice like grinding stones. "Do not speak of it. The mere thought makes my soul shudder."

"Oho! Tell us! What could possibly scare you?"

Zoltan leaned in, his eyes wide with genuine horror. "Golden... Honey-Cakes."

The tavern went silent. "...Huh?"

"Look at that wretched, golden glaze," Zoltan groaned, covering his face with his gauntlets. "That fluffy sponge that glistens in the sun... the way the honey oozes out like liquid starlight with every bite! And the overwhelming violence of the melted butter! It’s too much! Just thinking about them makes my stomach cramp in terror! Oh, the horror of the Honey-Cakes!"

Unable to bear the thought, Zoltan fled to his room upstairs.

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The three adventurers exchanged wicked grins.

"Did you hear that? The toughest man in the guild is scared of the bakery’s best-seller!"
"He’s always so arrogant. Let’s give him a 'nightmare' he'll never forget!"

They pooled their gold and bought every Golden Honey-Cake in the city. Fifty of them—thick, warm, and dripping with sweetness.

Late that night, they crept into Zoltan’s room. They piled the cakes high on his nightstand, his table, and even on the chest of the sleeping knight. Then, they slipped back out into the hall.

Behind the door, they suppressed their laughter.
"Hehe... watch this. The 'Iron Man' is about to scream like a child."
"A Dark Knight buried in a mountain of cake... we'll be telling this story for years!"
"Alright, here we go. Let's give him a real fright. ...Hey! Wake up, Zoltan!"
The Thief pounded on the door and yelled.

"Gah! What— No!" Zoltan’s voice rang out from inside. "They’re everywhere! I’m surrounded by Golden Honey-Cakes! Look at this evil golden crust! This terrifying glaze!"

"Hehe, he’s shaking!" the Thief whispered to his friends. "Wait for it... any second now he'll come running out in a panic!"

However, inside the room, Zoltan grabbed a cake with both hands and bit into it with primal ferocity.

"Aaargh! It’s so sweet! It’s attacking my taste buds!" Zoltan wailed—while chewing happily. "I must... I must eliminate them! I must destroy them all to save myself! Munch, slurp, gulp! Take that, you fluffy fiend! And you! You with the extra powdered sugar! Die in my mouth!"

One by one, the "terrifying" cakes vanished into Zoltan’s stomach. He moved like a man possessed, his face smeared with honey and joy.

The adventurers stood frozen in the hall.
"Wait a minute..." the Orc whispered.
"He’s just eating them!"

"He's not fighting for his life," the Elf realized, her face turning red with anger. "He's having a feast on our coin!"

The three burst into the room, pointing at the empty plates and the very satisfied-looking Dark Knight.

"Zoltan! You liar! You’re not afraid of cakes at all! You played us for fools just to get a free dessert!"

Zoltan leaned back against his headboard, rubbing his bulging stomach with a blissful sigh.
"It was a harrowing battle, my friends. But I have emerged victorious. At least... for now."

"Don't give us that! Admit it! You aren't afraid of anything!"

Zoltan looked at the empty plates, then at his angry companions, and rubbed his distended belly once more.

"...Actually, that is not true. Right now, I am truly, deeply terrified... of a cup of hot herbal tea."

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[ Commentary ]

This story is a fantasy reimagining of "Manju Kowai" (Scary Buns), one of the most famous and beloved pieces in the Rakugo repertoire. While the original tale is set in a simple Edo-period nagaya (apartment complex), this version brings the comedy into a high-stakes adventurer’s guild.

■ What is "Manju"?
In the 18th and 19th centuries, Manju was a popular treat—a steamed bun filled with sweet red bean paste (anko). For the common folk of the Edo Period, sugar was a precious luxury. The joke of "fearing" something so sweet and delicious was instantly recognizable to the audience as a transparent, yet brilliant, lie. In this fantasy adaptation, the "Golden Honey-Cakes" serve as the ultimate luxury that no one—not even a Dark Knight—could truly resist.

■ The "Scary Story" Tradition
In the original Rakugo, a group of idle friends gathers to tell scary stories. When everyone else is shivering over ghosts and spiders, one man remains calm, claiming that nothing in the world scares him—except for Manju (sweet bean buns). This "reverse psychology" is a classic element of Japanese humor, where the cleverest person in the room plays the "victim" to get exactly what they want.

■ The "Sage" (The Drop)
The punchline (the "Sage" or "drop"), where he claims to be "terrified of a cup of hot herbal tea," is deeply rooted in traditional Japanese culinary customs. In Japan, it is standard practice to drink bitter green tea after eating sweet snacks to refresh the palate. By saying this, the protagonist is essentially demanding the perfect "finishing touch" to accompany the dessert he just tricked his friends into providing for free. This "brazen yet brilliant" attitude perfectly embodies the spirit of Japanese wit and the clever construction of a Rakugo finale.

As for me? Well, just like Zoltan, I have a secret fear... I am absolutely terrified of "Likes" from my readers. Oh, the horror! Please, whatever you do, don't "scare" me by hitting that Like button... I don't know if my heart could take such a "frightening" reward!