Chapter 63 – Osren's Signature Clay-Baked Boar Heart
"No wonder they caught so many."
Menchi folded her arms, irritation still lingering, but even she couldn't deny it—these candidates were impressive.
The Great Stamp wasn't called the one of the world's fiercest boar for nothing.
The moment Menchi praised them, Leorio practically leapt forward, eager to show off Osren's earlier deduction.
A perfect chance to shine in front of a pretty woman—how could he miss it?
"'Where there's poison, there's an antidote. Nature balances itself,' hmm?"
Menchi repeated Osren's words under her breath.
The more she mulled it over, the more it resonated with her experience as a hunter of rare ingredients.
A simple sentence—but profoundly insightful.
"Who taught you that?" she asked, turning her gaze to Osren.
"I figured it out during my travels," Osren replied calmly.
Gon, loyal as ever, immediately stepped up.
"Yes! Osren's really smart—he knows tons of stuff!"
"To observe the world and summarize your findings so clearly… that's a frightening talent."
Menchi genuinely sounded impressed.
Osren seized the opportunity and bowed slightly.
"Menchi, I've heard you're one of the top gourmet hunters. I developed a new cooking technique, and I hope I might receive your guidance."
"Oh?"
Menchi raised a brow, eyeing the steaming clay-wrapped bundle in his hands.
"What's this? Don't tell me you expect me to eat dirt?"
But she didn't reject him outright—she simply waited.
"This is a new method I invented," Osren said earnestly.
"In the future… I want to become a gourmet hunter."
That hit home.
The moment Menchi heard the words gourmet hunter, her heart softened.
This talented boy wanted to walk the same path she loved—how could she not feel a sense of kinship?
Her tone warmed.
"…So how do I eat it?"
"Like this."
Osren lifted the clay ball in his hands and pressed.
Crack—crack—crack…
The hardened clay shell fragmented, falling away piece by piece, revealing layers of green-yellow leaves within.
And then—
A wave of rich, intoxicating aroma seeped out in thin curls, invading the senses, tugging at the stomach, making the mouth water.
"Gon, help distribute the rest to Leorio and the others."
Osren glanced toward Buhara—still buried under dozens of pigs.
It would be a while before the glutton finished.
Meanwhile, everyone else had been running around on empty stomachs.
"Thanks, Osren."
The group accepted their clay packets, mimicking Osren by cracking them open—anticipation shining in their eyes.
"This scent… is that Banley-banana leaves?" Menchi guessed, inhaling the faint sweet, slightly astringent fragrance.
"Correct. I found the leaves enhance the natural savoriness of the meat," Osren explained.
He gently peeled back the layers of softened leaves—
Revealing a whole boar heart, plump and glistening, looking as if it had just been taken fresh from the animal's body.
But instead of rawness, it exuded a deep, mouthwatering aroma that stunned even Menchi.
But Menchi caught the key point instantly.
She drew a short blade, sliced cleanly across the boar heart—
and the interior unfolded like a hidden world.
Stuffed to the brim were wild mountain delicacies.
The moment the cut opened, an even richer fragrance burst forth.
She tasted a small piece, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she parsed the flavors blooming across her tongue.
"…Giant Redpeak Honey… rosemary moss… water-wheel herb…"
As expected from one of the world's top Gourmet Hunters—
she effortlessly identified each ingredient Osren had used, adding her own notes and interpretations as she went.
Osren listened intently.
Menchi's insights shone light on the parts of this world's ingredients he still only half-understood.
Every phrase was precious—worth more than gold.
He knew it well:
As someone not originally from this world, no matter how much he'd studied, his understanding was shallow compared to a true expert.
Just Menchi's brief explanation cracked open a whole new realm of possibilities for him.
"Thank you, Menchi-san," Osren said sincerely.
Knowledge like this was a treasure—
especially when it came directly from her own hard-earned experience.
"…I'm honestly shocked," Menchi said at last.
"These ingredients, I know them all. But I never imagined you could combine them like this to create something so refined."
She tapped the clay remnants with her toe.
"A new cooking method—using the heat of baked earth to trap and concentrate flavor.
Completely unconventional.
But brilliant."
Osren demurred modestly, but inwardly, he felt his personal "Gourmet Handbook: First Edition" was just about complete.
This Hunter Exam had given him far more than a pass—
it had multiplied his knowledge and ingredient collection several times over.
And all of that could be… well, converted into social capital.
Which was the true currency of the Face-Fruit.
"Good. Bad. Not good. Good!"
Buhara, meanwhile, was eating while loudly judging—yet regardless of the verdict, every piece still ended up in his mouth.
"A remarkable harvest indeed," Satotz remarked, now sitting cross-legged on a branch with leisurely amusement.
"But how's the actual taste?
Those first five were excellent, but the rest?"
He mused aloud, evaluating the group.
"How many of these candidates can truly satisfy the palate of one of the world's top gourmet hunters… Buhara of the Bottomless Stomach?"
"After all—he's supposed to be a gourmet expert."
"Then again, he's eating the burnt ones too.
Is he really a gourmet hunter?"
Satotz chuckled to himself.
He clearly hadn't spoken this much in a long time and was enjoying his private commentary.
He was curious whether the examinees he had personally taken a liking to would pass.
But Buhara's mind was as boundless as his stomach—
impossible to predict where either one ended.
CLANG.
Buhara tossed the last rib bone onto a towering mound behind him.
He patted his belly—pa pa—and grinned with bliss.
"That was delicious! I'm full!"
The mountain of bones behind him was… a scene not easily forgotten.
And then—
CLANG! CLANG!
Menchi struck the gong.
"All right! The results are in.
Buhara has finished eating seventy-one whole roasted boars!"
"…This monster," Hanzo muttered.
He'd watched Buhara eat earlier, but having an exact number thrown in his face made reality harder to swallow.
Seventy-one.
Not loaves of bread—
seventy-one entire boars.
Even after witnessing it with their own eyes, most candidates still couldn't wrap their heads around it.
They stared at Buhara's stomach—
which looked only slightly rounder than earlier.
Impossible.
Unbelievable.
Inhuman.
"Insane…"
"Is that thing even human?"
"What's his body made of?"
"I can't imagine it…"
The crowd buzzed in shock.
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