The Military Chef of a Ruined World

Chapter 53

After my wounds had healed to some extent, I was discharged from the infirmary and moved to my new quarters within the ammunition battalion.

“So, this is my room?”

“Yes. It used to be the battalion commander’s office, but everyone agreed that you should use it, Sergeant.”

The issue was that this room wasn’t just any ordinary room; it was the battalion commander’s office.

It was the space used by the author of that notebook and the commander of this unit.

Honestly, it felt a bit overwhelming.

‘I’m no longer just a regular sergeant now.’

When it was just the soldiers of the 423rd Battalion, I felt like one of them.

But now, with the survivors joining us, my position had elevated to that of a guild master, a fairly high rank.

I had no choice but to accept the room.

As I was trying to get used to this somewhat intimidating room, there was a knock on the door. Someone familiar entered.

“Oh, Grandpa Park?”

“It’s been a while.”

Grandpa Park was the one who had seen me managing my sword, and he would sharpen it for me and teach me how to maintain it.

Our interactions from those times led to us having conversations every now and then.

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Given my rank, I usually spoke informally in official settings, but with Grandpa Park, the age gap was too significant, so I tended to use formal speech in casual situations.

“I was worried when I heard the commander had been bedridden. Have you fully recovered now?”

“Yes, there’s no problem with my activities.”

“Hmph, at least that’s some relief,” he said gruffly.

I knew he was a good person deep down, so I didn’t take it to heart.

“Anyway,” he continued, narrowing his eyes.

I knew what he was looking at—the oddly deformed knife in the corner of the battalion commander’s office.

I scratched my head and said, “Well, it ended up like this.”

“Tsk. I heard bits about how you fought. Figured it would look like this,” he responded.

“Is there any way to repair it?” I asked, though I was starting to think it might be time for a replacement.

This knife had been with me since my awakening, and my combat style was somewhat tailored to it.

“The best option is to somehow save this knife,” I said.

However, he delivered his final verdict, dashing any lingering hopes, “It can’t be saved.”

If the edge was just heavily damaged, it would have been manageable.

Grandpa Park examined the warped knife closely, turning it this way and that.

“Exposure to high temperatures, that’s not the problem itself,” he said.

“So, what can be done then?” I asked, holding onto a sliver of hope.

“The problem is the cooling process after being exposed to high temperatures. It inevitably changes the internal structure,” he explained.

“I see…”

“The very properties of the metal have changed,” he continued.

This meant that even if the knife could be reshaped back to its original form, it would be an entirely different sword—essentially, it would become an unusable ornament.

In the end, saving this knife was impossible.

Acquiring another knife wouldn’t be difficult, but it wouldn’t be the same.

The point shop does sell knives, but they’re no different from the typical kitchen knives that could be found at the supermarkets.

They’re certainly not as good as this one.

However, I had no other choice.

So, I was about to open the point shop and spend some of my saved points when Grandpa Park spoke up.

“Well then, I’ll make you a new one.”

“Huh?”

“Give me that knife.”

Grandpa Park said this quite suddenly.

“I want to use that knife as a reference. Hand it over.”

“Wait, is making a new knife really that simple? We don’t even have proper equipment here.”

“Did you forget? I’ve awakened too,” Grandpa Park said, pulling something out from his coat.

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It was a large hammer, held in his small, aged hands.

“My awakened job is Blacksmith.”

“Ah.”

Grandpa Park was one of the 25 survivors who had joined our unit.

A few days ago, all these survivors had completed their awakenings.

Among them, Grandpa Park’s awakened profession was Blacksmith.

I hadn’t heard the details of his abilities, but a Blacksmith…

“Actually, I had a feeling you might have had some experience in that field.”

“You’re not entirely clueless then,” he replied.

I recalled seeing him sharpen my knife in the kitchen of the 423rd Battalion.

His skill and demeanor were too refined for just any elderly man who had done some work in the kitchen.

‘There was something about him—a craftsman’s aura, around him.’

I had guessed he might have worked in metal crafting or something similar.

“Hmph, it’s Park’s Workshop,” he said proudly.

“What?”

“Park’s Workshop. You must have heard of it.”

“Park’s Workshop?”

“I’m the second-generation owner of that very workshop.”

“…….”

“What’s that?” I asked, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Grandpa Park’s expression turned sharply.

“Park’s Workshop… You haven’t heard of it?”

“Uh… of course! Now I remember. You’re quite accomplished!”

“Enough. You bastard, you have no idea, do you?”

I felt a bit guilty for not recognizing it.

He spoke as if it was something significant, but honestly, I had never heard of it.

From the context, it seemed to be a company that makes knives.

“Well, even though I awakened as a chef, my true job was that of a regular army chef. I wasn’t particularly interested in knives.”

“Still, it’s considered the best not just in Gangwon-do but nationwide… No, forget it. What’s the point in explaining?”

Grandpa Park sighed, cutting himself off.

He seemed a bit disappointed.

It looked like he decided it wasn’t worth explaining further to someone unfamiliar with the subject.

“How can someone who cooks not know about this…?” Grandpa Park muttered.

Many chefs in the army are former professional chefs, so they can bring their own personal knives, provided the tips are blunt to prevent them from being used as weapons.

Our unit, being so lax, didn’t even enforce this rule.

However, most cooks who weren’t professional chefs just used the standardized knives provided by the military.

Professional chefs would probably recognize Park’s Workshop immediately, but I wasn’t quite at that level.

Perhaps the newer recruits who had been learning cooking before enlisting would know it.

“Anyway, just know that I have the capability to make a few knives. I need you to grant me a few permissions.”

“What kind of permissions?”

“I’ll need some assistance from a few mages. You remember the sisters I shared a room with?”

Their names were Hyunji and Hyeji, if I remember correctly.

I remembered them because it was thanks to those sisters that I was able to meet Grandpa Park in the first place.

“One of them awakened as fire mage while the other as ice mage. Temperature control is essential for making knives, so I’m planning to seek a bit of help from those two.”

“I will pass on the request to Sergeant Min-jae then. He is the squad leader of all the mages.”

“Thanks. Next, I plan to establish a workshop.”

A workshop?

Seeing me puzzled over this, Grandpa Park continued his explanation.

“Well, it’s nothing special. Just think of it as a slightly larger workshop.”

“No, I’m not unfamiliar with the word ‘workshop.’ Is it a necessary occupation for a blacksmith?”

“It’s not mandatory, but it’s beneficial to have one. Me, the engineers, and that seamstress girl.”

“Ah… Yes.”

“In the case of production workers like us who create items, the presence of a workshop greatly affects the quality of the output.”

“I see.”

The equipment made by Lee Sang-ah is still very useful. But could there be more potential here?

“We’re planning to modify one of the ammunition depots here. Can you grant permission for that?”

The combat vehicles made by the engineers have definitely proven useful in this battle.

According to Min-jae hyung’s report, the captured items from this unit are also being modified into weapons.

Expanding their roles would only benefit them.

“I understand. Feel free to proceed with that.”

“Thank you. Honestly, this was the most difficult request.”

“Is there anything else you need?” I asked, wanting to be as supportive as possible of the production efforts.

As per my observations, the performance of the production workers in this world was better than expected.

Since I’ve agreed to support them, I decided to support them with everything I could.

“There is one last request. Um…”

“?”

“Not now. I’ll tell you later.”

Grandpa Park showed meaningful restraint in speaking.

“Is it a difficult request to make?”

“It’s not like that. Well, you’ll find out when the time comes.”

He chuckled, seeming to have something up his sleeve.

I didn’t know what Grandpa Park was planning, but I figured it couldn’t be anything too malicious.

“Alright, let me know once the preparations are ready.”

***

After granting Grandpa Park permission to build the workshop, the sounds of heavy construction could be heard from the corner of the unit where the ammunition depots used to be.

“This noise… Won’t it be a problem?” I asked one of the engineers.

“We’re modifying the ammunition depots that are relatively inside, so it shouldn’t be heard by the monsters outside.”

“It’s fortunate that we’re in such a spacious unit.”

Monsters weren’t attracted to the commotion caused by the construction provided us some additional comfort.

After a few days, by the time I had adapted somewhat to the kitchen of the ammunition battalion,

“Sergeant Shin.”

“Yeah? Need more food?”

“No, sir. The workshop is fully completed.”

“Oh.”

As I finished lunch distribution and prepared for dinner, a soldier from the engineering department came to me.

The completion of the workshop meant,

“Ah… I see, the construction was pretty noisy. Finally, it’s done.” I commented.

“Haha. We apologize for the disturbance.”

We had worked day and night to complete construction as quickly as possible.

Despite that, I was relieved the work finished swiftly.

“So, Sergeant, could you come to the workshop for a moment?”

“Hmm? Is there something I need to help with?”

“No, sir. Grandpa Park said there’s something he wants to make for you.”

“Ah.”

“He insisted that the first item made in the workshop must be for you… Any guesses?”

I had a hunch about it.

“My cooking knife.”

While a standard kitchen knife from the ammunition battalion’s kitchen worked fine for cooking

I had been feeling a bit inconvenienced by the lackluster performance of the standard-issue kitchen knife.

So, I was curious to see the completed workshop.

The appearance of the workshop was quite unique.

It looked like a mix of modern buildings and medieval forges.

The workshop was made by renovating one of the igloo-shaped ammunition depots.

On top, there was a large chimney that hadn’t been there before, but there was no smoke coming out.

“You haven’t started working yet? There’s no smoke.”

“Oh, smoke probably won’t come out continuously.”

“Huh?”

“We’re using fire magic from the mages to generate heat. Since we don’t need to burn firewood or anything, there won’t be any smoke.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Well, it’s better if smoke doesn’t attract the monsters’ attention.

“Then, what’s the chimney for?”

“Actually, this workshop itself is modeled after Grandpa. Park’s workshop. Even though the necessity has decreased, we attached it for now. It also serves as heat dissipator.”

“Ah, I see.”

By the way, the soldiers have been naturally referring to him as “Park Noyara” this whole time.

‘Didn’t they say this unit only respects those with ability and skill?’

Compared to the engineers, Grandpa Park awakened his powers quite late.

Yet the workshop is modeled after Grandpa Park’s own forge, and they’re even using that honorific title of “Park Noyara” for him.

He must be pretty skilled in his work then.

“You are here?”

Just then, Grandpa Park emerged from within the workshop, and welcomed me.

“Do you like the workshop?”

“It’s quite impressive, better than I expected,” I admitted.

“The facilities are still lacking, and this workshop is only a temporary workshop in terms of the system… Still, the effect will be significant.”

“I thought I had made it properly, but it seems this system doesn’t officially recognize it as a proper workshop. There must be some additional conditions for that classification,” Grandpa Park mused.

A workshop of this size cannot be treated as an official workshop?

Looking around, I could see the engineers already at work, handling pieces of metal. Nearby, there were piles of what seemed to be the finished products.

Grandpa Park, after a brief greeting, approached near the piled products.

He picked something up and then handed it to me.

“Here, give it a try.”

“This is…”

What he handed me was a long knife resembling something straight out of a movie.

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

I may be a clueless oaf when it comes to distinguishing types of swords like katanas or Japanese swords, but…

I could tell it was a gracefully shaped knife.

“Is that so? Well, never mind that. If you’ve grasped it, try giving it a swing.”

Saying so, he placed a small log on the workbench.

“A log, really?”

‘Just a log?’ I thought, stifling a laugh.

I could slice through thick wooden tables like butter, so this seemed almost trivial.

Swinging the blade with confident ease, I expected it to cleave through the log effortlessly.

But to my surprise, the blade barely left a mark.

“Huh? This knife is… trash?”   

I asked, perplexed, turning towards Grandpa Park.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Translator: One Force

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