The Prince Doesn’t Cry From Mere Onions

the cursed war is over. three years have passed. it seems like this rural village has finally settled down… but now, some bear-like vagrant barges into our restaurant, spouting nonsense. “i've come to repay a debt i owe your father from the war.” and yet, this guy doesn't even know what he supposedly owes. my father passed away during the war, so there's no way to ask him! i told him to just leave, but this vagrant says: “how much do you want? i'll pay whatever you ask.” do i look like i lack pride, even if i'm short on money? “forget the money, pay it back with labor.” “…with my body, or someone else's? either way, i can—” “just go chop some onions!”