Pickup

Du Pont's heart skipped a beat when he heard that.

As a transmigrator, what was his greatest advantage?

An abundance of modern knowledge.

Unfortunately, Du Pont had transmigrated into a high-magic world overflowing with magic. In some respects, magic was even more convenient than modern technology, rendering much of the knowledge he had learned useless. Trying to make money by producing liquor or glass was basically out of the question.

Still, even if that knowledge could not be used, many things remained the same. Skills and arts such as cuisine, music, and painting still had room to shine.

However, it was difficult to make money with such things. There was an old saying that perfectly described Du Pont's current situation: a fine horse was common, but one who recognized it was rare.

Right now, he had encountered a similar opportunity.

Du Pont put on an innocent expression. "Something challenging? Monsters?"

"There are always wolves, tigers, and leopards in the mountains. You'll find out when the time comes." The Butcher shrugged. "I noticed your heartbeat was a little off just now, and your lips are turning purple. You don't have heart disease, do you?"

Damn it, this guy's senses are probably terrifyingly sharp. Du Pont said, "Can someone my age have heart disease? Still, I haven't been feeling very well these past few days, so I've often gone to the infirmary to see the doctor. She told me I should rest more and pay more attention to nutrition."

"You are a little thin. If your muscles were stronger, you'd make good barbarian material." As he spoke, the Butcher squeezed Du Pont's arm. "But you're still young. Eat more every day, and you'll put on flesh soon enough. That's much faster than growing a brain."

"The academy generally promotes balanced meal plans." Du Pont deliberately argued back. "Eating too much makes it easy to get fat, and it dulls the brain. The instructors don't recommend it."

"A dull brain just means you don't like using it. If you asked me to do the accounts, I definitely wouldn't be as good as an ordinary tax officer. But if you asked me how to butcher an entire cow, I could give you several plans in an instant. Judy can remember how to make over a hundred dishes, yet his intelligence is about the same as an ordinary person's." The Butcher gestured as he spoke. "Besides, fat is easy to lose. Just exercise more when you have nothing to do. If you waste your time and neglect your real talent, you'll end up like those mages who use Bull's Strength at brothels and still can't look impressive for more than a few minutes. By then, it'll be too late to train."

Du Pont looked unconvinced. "Who says so? There are more thin people than fat people at my academy, and I've read that plenty of mages summon succubi as playthings. Some Archmages even imprison Demon Lords for private use. How is it as pathetic as you say?"

"You actually believe the nonsense in books?" The Butcher looked disdainful. "In Haluar, if you dare summon a demon without applying in advance, you'll get at least twenty years in prison. Even if you get approval, if you want to play with a succubus, you need to cast a fourth-circle divine spell, Death Ward, on yourself. Otherwise, a single kiss could suck away your soul. You might not even be able to buy a scroll of that fourth-circle divine spell for five hundred gold. If you want to play around whenever you like, you'd better become a High-level Mage first."

"...Then what about becoming a barbarian? When I don't want to do that anymore, I can become a butcher?" Du Pont looked disgusted. "It must be hard to find a wife with a job like that."

"Heh, what's so great about women? If I went back to the tribes in the Northlands, they'd be lining up to offer me their women, just so I could leave strong boys for their clans. I simply don't care for it." The Butcher snorted. "Only little brats your age like running around women all day. Good food, fishing, hunting, horseback riding, and bragging with your buddies—which of those isn't more comfortable than being with women? You're still too young."

"Wow, you're so experienced, bro." Du Pont looked shocked. "Don't tell me you're impotent?"

The barbarian choked on those words and could not speak for a long while. After quite some time, he finally said, "...If what you make later doesn't taste good, I'll stuff those intestines into your mouth."

Du Pont grinned without replying. He added water, salt, and oil to the flour, then kneaded it for a while before feeling that something was off. "Judy, why does this flour seem poorly milled? It's so coarse."

"That's a semi-finished product brought over from the mill. It's basically used for apprentices to bake bread, and it hasn't been sifted many times." Judy replied softly, "You aren't planning to use snow flour, are you? That's the good stuff that has to be sifted eight times to make Queen's Bread. Only instructors are qualified to eat it here."

Du Pont lowered his voice. "I'll only use a little. It's just for the three of us."

Judy immediately understood. "All right, I'll get you five pounds."

After kneading the dough, Du Pont naturally could not find plastic wrap in this world. He found a clean piece of thin cloth, dampened it, and covered the bowl. "All right, this dough needs to sit and ferment for a while. I'll go take care of something and come back. Once I'm back, we can pan-fry the flatbread."

With that, he pulled most of the firewood from beneath the iron bucket, leaving only a few embers behind. Judy and the Butcher were left staring at each other.

"What did he mean by pan-frying flatbread? Some kind of bread recipe?"

"If you don't know, how would I know? At home, I only know how to make roasted meat and stew everything together." The Butcher glanced at the innards soaking in cold water. "Still, that kid is pretty interesting. Maybe he really can make something new. But his Common Tongue is far too standard. I can't even tell where he's from by his accent."

"There are always more odd people among mages." Judy lifted the lid of the pot, scooped up a spoonful of soup, and tasted it. "Hearth God above, this is really salty."

"Did he ruin this pot of food?"

"Not exactly. He added a lot of water and ingredients, so if he wants the flavor to soak in, he naturally needs more salt. I just don't know how it'll taste in the end."

"One hour later..." The Butcher patted his stomach. "Get me some bread and sausage to tide me over first, or I'm afraid I'll start losing weight."

By then, Du Pont had already cleaned his hands and arrived at the finance office.

While he had been showing off his cooking skills, most of the apprentices who had remained at the academy had finished eating. Two long lines had already formed in the corridor.

Although the academy allowed them to submit their papers as late as eighteen hundred, completing and handing in the task early would undoubtedly earn them a more prominent position on the rankings.

Very few apprentices delayed submitting their papers until the evening, because that would annoy the teachers waiting for them and prove that their abilities were limited.

What emergency could possibly prevent them from coming until evening? Why not ask a friend to submit it for them? Wasn't it simply because they had handled their relationships poorly?

Just an excuse.

Fortunately, the work here was fairly efficient. Du Pont had not stood in line for long before it was his turn. He blocked the view of the people behind him and said softly, "Du Pont. My friend lost my collection certificate."

Without even looking up, William wrote Du Pont's name down and called out, "Josen, is Du Pont's name in the collection ledger?"

A few seconds later, someone from the counter beside him answered, "No."

"If you lose it again next time, don't come back." William's tone was filled with impatience as he tossed him the slip of paper. "Hurry up and leave. Next!"