Read Novel Full Chapter 50, Steal!
Chapter 50, Steal!
Translator: Barnnn
“It’s about five hundred meters ahead,” Ize murmured, her eyes locked on the faint movement in the distance.
“Okay. I’ll draw its attention from here.”
“I’ll close the gap by half.”
Hal hesitated. “…I’m counting on you.”
Ize nodded firmly, unwilling to let Hal’s intense gaze shake her. Without another word, she turned her back to him and began to move — slow and deliberate — creeping toward the Twisthorn Deer.
Every so often, she would catch glimpses of something flickering in Hal’s eyes — Conflict. Trust in her abilities, tangled with worry. Guilt for taking the rear guard, even as pride in his devastating magic burned bright. His sense of responsibility as the elder, locked in a quiet battle with his instinct to protect.
All of it swirled in the shadows of his eyes, like a storm barely held in check. And Hal, being his self-aware self, surely knew it too.
[Which is exactly why…] Ize thought, her lips pressing into a determined line. [This plan needs to succeed.]
It had been Hal’s idea — a strategy that deliberately put her in the front line, the most dangerous position.
If they pulled it off, it wouldn’t just be a victory over the Twisthorn Deer. It would be a turning point. Hal would finally see her as more than someone to protect. He’d see her as a true adventurer — a real partner in combat.
Her gaze flicked to the Deer, grazing on the forest floor, oblivious to the hunt closing in. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She licked her lips, savoring the thrill of the hunt, like a lion crouching in the brush. Hidden within the barrier of Stealth, she was the predator now.
Slowly, she lowered her stance. Breathed in. Breathed out. Her body relaxed as the old, familiar rhythm settled in — a ritual she hadn’t performed in months. It was the same one she used before a free throw back in her basketball days.
Her muscles loosened, unnecessary tension draining away. Her focus sharpened.
With her body half-turned to keep Hal in her peripheral vision, Ize raised her fist — the signal they’d agreed upon.
Hal gave a slight nod, then began his silent countdown.
Three.
Two.
One.
The moment he hit zero, Ize deactivated the Stealth surrounding him. Hal’s figure was now unmistakable to the Twisthorn Deer.
The beast’s ears twitched. It lifted its head, nostrils flaring, and locked onto him immediately.
With a guttural snarl, it kicked off the ground, hooves gouging deep furrows into the earth as it charged. Its twisted antlers gleamed like jagged spears, pointed directly at Hal’s chest. There was murder in its eyes — a single-minded, animalistic rage.
Ize wasn’t even in its line of sight.
[This reminds me of a basketball game…] she thought.
She’d always been too small to be an effective defender — never was she able to block high passes.
Opponents dribbled arrogantly, taunting her with balls she couldn’t reach. They all thought she was nothing but a nuisance on the court, if they even acknowledged her existence at all.
…Until she stole the ball right out of their hands.
[If you won’t notice me, I’ll MAKE you. Or else, your life is ours!]
Matching the rhythm of the Deer’s bounding steps, Ize swiped her knife in sharp, fluid arcs, cutting first from above, then from below.
“Gyuiieeehh!” The Deer screamed — a high, guttural wail that faded as it streaked right past Ize’s side.
Dust billowed up as the beast stumbled, its hooves skidding against the dirt.
Boom! Boom!
Hal’s magic followed, the sound of the impact echoing through the clearing.
Ize stood still for a moment, rubbing her hand, which tingled from the shock of her knife striking bone. She watched carefully as the Twisthorn Deer gave a final twitch, then collapsed.
This time, she made sure to witness the exact moment the beast disappeared — leaving behind a pile of loot. A grin spread across her face, and she clenched her fist in a tiny gesture of triumph.
Ize and Hal gathered near the drop site, checking for injuries.
“Good work,” Hal said, stepping beside her. His gaze flicked to her hand. “Your arm okay?”
“It’s a little numb, but I’m fine.”
“Keep that up and you’ll strain your arm. Maybe we should stop here today — we’ve confirmed our teamwork and all.”
“But if we run into anything before we reach the stairs, we won’t have much choice, right?”
Hal sighed, reluctant but unable to argue. “Yeah… fair point.”
Ize grinned, flashing him a toothy smile. Their plan had gone off without a hitch — surely, they should keep riding that momentum. Her expression said it all, and Hal clearly picked up on her thoughts. He let out a small, exasperated laugh and raised his right hand to Ize’s shoulder height.
“W-what?”
“You know. That iconic page from that legendary basketball manga.”
He wiggled his fingers at her in invitation.
“C’mon. You know the one.”
There it was again. The wiggle.
[Seriously, what is up with that wiggle?]
Ize’s irritation bubbled over. With a sharp glare, she raised her hand and smacked it against Hal’s with more force than necessary.
Smack!
“Gahhh!” Hal recoiled, clutching his wrist.
“Ow!” Ize winced, cradling her own hand. Pain shot through her already numb fingers.
For a moment, both of them stood there groaning with identical grimaces on their faces as they rubbed their sore wrists.
The sight was too ridiculous — Ize couldn’t hold her laughter back any longer.
In her basketball days, no one had been there to catch the ball when she stole it. No one believed she could do it.
But now, she had a partner who trusted her completely. Someone who would catch her passes and deliver the finishing blow without fail.
And having someone to share that victory with — someone to laugh with, to hurt with — filled her with overwhelming joy. She laughed until she was gasping for breath, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
◆
“All right!” Hal declared, “After all the highs and lows of today’s Dungeon run, we’ve officially registered our progress on the tenth floor. Cue applause!”
“Clap, clap, clap~~”
“Thank you, thank you. Now let’s head back. All hail the Portal Room!”
“All hail the Portal Room!”
Apparently, Hal’s wish had been granted — they had made it to the staircase without encountering any more enemies.
After activating the Portal and returning to the first floor, they crossed the familiar plaza and made their way toward their inn.
They agreed to cash in their loot two days later, deciding to get some much-needed rest for now.
“So, Hal… your stamina held up after all,” Ize remarked as they walked.
“Just barely,” Hal groaned. “If I hadn’t been keeping up with my running, I’d be toast. First thing I’m doing back at the inn is showering, then crashing before dinner.”
“Should we give Miss Etta the Boar meat or the Deer meat first? I’m thinking Boar.”
“Definitely Boar. I’m craving a hearty stew.”
“Wouldn’t a steak be better?”
Hal shook his head. “Boar’s wild game, right? Steak might be too tough. A hotpot-style stew sounds perfect.”
“…Now you’ve got me craving it, too.”
“Settled, then.”
As they approached their inn, The Sage’s Table, a wave of relief washed over them both. They’d only been staying there for five days, but it already felt like home. The thought of leaving after the winter season brought a twinge of unease to Ize’s heart.
She glanced at Hal, who seemed just as lost in thought.
“Teleportation skills must be pretty amazing to have…” she mused aloud.
Hal blinked. “That came out of nowhere.”
“Well… thinking about how it’ll probably be years before we return here — if we ever even do — made me wish we had a teleport skill.”
“It IS in the Goddess’s list of example skills,” Hal pointed out. “If you ask her, maybe she’ll give it to you.”
“But wouldn’t that mean I wouldn’t have any offensive skills?”
Hal rubbed his chin. “Good point. Maybe she’d give you two, like she did for me?”
“Expecting to get more than one sounds a bit… greedy.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“All things considered, I’m satisfied enough with Fleet Foot. It makes travel a lot easier already — I won’t ask for more.”
“Still, when Fieda joins us, you won’t be able to carry both of us with that skill… right?”
“What if I try, and it works?” Ize teased, cracking a mischievous grin.
“The image alone is enough to give me nightmares, so let’s not.”
“…Agreed.”
Ize frowned, imagining the scene. Herself running, Hal perched awkwardly on her back — and stacked on top of him would be Fieda, legs dangling, his heels dragging along the ground.
The mental image was, indeed, horrifying. Perhaps some things were best left untested.
Shaking her head to dispel the thought, Ize silently prayed to the Goddess to keep them far from a scenario that necessitated such a ridiculous maneuver.
◆
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!
“Ize.”
“Yeah…?”
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!
“Ize.”
“I’m up…”
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!
“If you don’t wake up, I’m hogging the entire pot of Boar stew to myself.”
Her eyes snapped open. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
“Oh, NOW you’re finally awake.”
“Yes, thanks to someone’s heinous remark. My evening’s off to a terrible start…”
“I woke you up! How about a little gratitude?”
“Doesn’t change how terribly you did it, Hal. Now c’mon, let’s go! If it stews too long, the meat’s going to get tough.”
“All right, all right.”
Still half-asleep, Ize shuffled out of bed and followed Hal down the stairs, their footsteps falling into the rhythm of their usual single-file train formation.
As they descended, a familiar scent wafted up from the dining hall — the rich, comforting aroma of miso.
Etta had a precious collection of recipes from a supposedly Japanese Sage. Among them were ones that used traditional seasonings: miso, soy sauce, and sake. These ingredients weren’t common in Jasted — in fact, they were practically unheard of in this region — but the Goddess had assured Ize and Hal that they did exist somewhere in this world.
A few days ago, Hal had offered Etta a portion of his own stock. He’d handed over containers of miso paste, soy sauce, and even a small bottle of sake, keeping his expression carefully neutral… though Ize hadn’t missed the way his eyes had glistened, just a little, when he parted with the sake. She’d tactfully chosen not to comment on it.
The miso and soy sauce had come from convenience store packets Hal had brought with him. Grilled shumai sauce and instant red miso soup, to be exact. Every day, he’d carefully transfer them into a container, saving them up until he had enough for cooking. Then he’d wait for his Earth foodstuff’s auto-replenish to kick in.
His last business trip before coming to this world had been to the Chubu region of Japan, where red miso reigned supreme. That meant what Hal had was top-class, but still, Ize couldn’t help but lament the limitations of his stock.
It made sense — when picking up souvenirs, one would grab the local specialties. She understood that. Really, she did. But when it came to miso soup, she craved something milder. Something she could drink every day — at least blended miso instead of red miso…
[Not that I’m complaining about the red fortune mochi, of course.]
Hal didn’t have mirin, either, but he had assured her that sake and sugar made a suitable substitute. Ize trusted his culinary instincts. After all, she had no clue when it came to traditional cooking.
As they entered the dining hall, Etta greeted them with a warm smile.
“Hal, Ize, thank you both so much for the seasonings! I’ve been adjusting the flavors little by little, but it’s my first time using them, so I’m not very confident.”
“This smells amazing,” Hal said, practically beaming. “I never thought I’d get to eat this dish here — I’m so happy!”
“You’ve put in lots of vegetables, too!” Ize added, peering eagerly at the pot on the table. “It looks like the perfect meal to warm us up. Let’s dig in!”
“Enjoy! And let me know what you think later!”
Etta chuckled before bustling back to the kitchen, leaving the two of them practically bouncing in their seats.
They leaned over the hotpot, eagerly lifting the lid. A cloud of steam rose, revealing thin slices of Brown Boar meat simmering in a rich, red-brown broth.
Their eyes met over the rising steam, both of them grinning in sync. Then they each grabbed their chopsticks and carefully fished out their first slices of meat.
Ize held up a glossy, tender piece, dangling from her chopsticks. It shimmered in the dim light of the dining hall — she admired it for a moment, mesmerized by its perfection. It looked even more beautiful than those surreal, melting clocks in that famous painting.
With a quiet hum of satisfaction, she popped the slice into her mouth in one smooth motion.
“Mmm!”
“Hot!”
The flavor was a world apart from the instant miso soup they’d hastily thrown together on past nights.
This broth, simmered with fresh vegetables and meat, carried a depth that warmed them from the inside out. Each bite of meat, despite its initial chewiness, released a flood of flavor the moment they bit down — the rich, savory blend of miso, soy sauce, and the Boar’s own fat melting across their tongues. They followed the meat with tender vegetables, their clean, refreshing taste cutting through the heaviness of the broth. And then, inevitably, they craved another slice of meat.
“The Boar meat is amazing,” Ize murmured.
“Absolutely amazing,” Hal parroted, his voice soft with satisfaction.
After that, they ate in quiet contentment, focused solely on devouring every last slice. By the time they reached the bottom of the pot, all that remained was a glistening, slightly oily broth.
Hal tilted his head toward Ize.
“Rice.”
“Definitely rice,” she agreed.
“Let’s ask Miss Etta to reheat the broth, then we’ll add it.”
Instant noodles could have been an option, but they both knew this moment called for something simpler. It had to be rice.
After retrieving their bento packs, they carefully re-boiled the rice and poured it into the simmering pot. The grains sank to the bottom, spreading out beneath the surface. Both of them leaned in, eyes locked on the pot as if it were some rare, formidable creature.
Gradually, the rice began to absorb the broth. The grains swelled, turning plump and soft.
“…Think it’s ready?” Hal asked, barely above a whisper.
Ize gave a solemn nod. “Looks good to me.”
“All right, then…”
Hal ladled a portion of the thickened porridge into a bowl and handed it to Ize.
Then he served himself, and promptly scooped up a spoonful to his lips.
“It’s perfect.”
“Absolutely perfect.”
Ize cradled her bowl in both hands, lifting it to her lips like a ceremonial sake cup, taking a slow, lingering sip.
“Ahh… So good.”
“Yeah… So good.”
Once again, they fell into silence, savoring every spoonful. They didn’t stop until the pot was scraped clean, and not a single grain of rice was left behind.
◆
When they made their way back to their room, both of them wore matching, satisfied smiles. They were warm, content, and oblivious to the storm they’d left behind in the dining hall.
The moment they stepped out of sight, Etta found herself surrounded by curious guests, all their eyes wide with intrigue. Within weeks, a new item appeared on the inn’s menu — its name spread like wildfire, and soon enough, volunteers for taste-testing flooded in from every corner of town.
As for Ize and Hal, they remained blissfully unaware of the local culinary revolution they’d sparked.