The SSS class adventurer is a divine cleric

Even Derek looked up at that one.

"Five. Thousand?" Dreynor's jaw clicked slightly. "Is it wrapped in gold?"

"No, but the memory of tasting it is worth more than a vault of it," Kaelen said smoothly. "Also, it's extremely limited. We only have one basket left."

In the kitchen, three fresh baskets of Wyrmleaf glowed gently on the shelf.

Alira muttered under her breath, "We'll have a forest full by tomorrow."

Neal. "Let him work."

The noble glanced at his daughter. She hadn't said a word, but her stomach audibly growled.

He exhaled.

"Very well. Two plates."

Kaelen bowed deeply, clapped his hands, and rushed into the kitchen. He was the only one who could cook the dish as it needed his blood but he never mentioned that to anyone. The others tried copying the same but all ended in a failure.

Moments Later…

The plates were set gently before them. Steamed Wyrmleaf sautéed in clarified mana-butter, laced with glowing pepper crystals, and garnished with a thread of flame basil that flickered faintly under the low tavern lights.

Baron Dreynor held his fork with all the tension of a man about to be poisoned by commoners.

His daughter, however, took the first bite.

And her eyes widened.

Her mouth opened slightly. She blinked, once, twice, then leaned forward and shoveled the next bite like a soldier eating after war.

The noble raised a brow, tasted the dish, and..

Silence.

He lowered his fork. Slowly. Reverently.

Then he turned to Kaelen and said, voice low and shaken.

"…You should be arrested for hiding this from the world."

Kaelen grinned.

By the time the noble and his daughter left, they had ordered four more plates, two to go, one for their knight, and another to "take home and whisper secrets to."

He paid 30,000 XP in total.

Before he left, Dreynor turned back once more and said, loud enough for the entire tavern to hear:

"I will return. And next time, I will bring the royal inspector of cuisine. This place… this dish… is blessed by the divine itself."

As his carriage pulled away into the night, Alira leaned over to Kaelen and whispered:

"You absolute scam artist."

Kaelen beamed.

"I just gave him what he paid for: truth in taste, hallucinations in seasoning, and a bill worth bragging about."

Derek groaned in the background. "I need a drink." Kaelen had made what he earned in a week and it was truly discouraging.

Neal chuckled, tossing a kitchen towel at Kaelen's head. "We're gonna be rich."

The Ashen Boar Tavern never expected common fame. But word travels fast, especially when luxury meets folklore.

Bright sunshine cut through the tavern windows just after dawn. Barely awake, Derek touched his forehead. "Did you set up a sign?" he groaned.

Neal, towel slung over his shoulder and eyes sharper than any blade, grinned. "We did. Wyrmleaf Special today. First come, first served."

Alira adjusted tablecloths, while Kaelen reclined behind the bar, sipping a steaming mug as if he'd just discovered gold.

Peeking out the door, Kaelen saw a line stretching three blocks long. Rough-looking adventurers, curious locals, even a pair of well-dressed merchants from the Seraphine caravan.

"Holy hell," he muttered. "I haven't seen this many bodies since the Battle of Grey Ridge." Derek muttered in amazement

By noon, the tavern was packed wall to wall.

A dwarf in braided braises traded hushed tales about Wyrmleaf's "healing warmth," while a pair of twin sorceresses debated whether it induced visions. At one corner table, a bristly merc handed over a pouch with words: "For future servings. Don't rip us off."

Kaelen strutted from table to table, basking in praise:

"By the Phoenix's flame, this cured my insomnia."

"I dreamed of dancing lilies and whispered oaths."

"I want the recipe!"

To every request, Kaelen offered the same cheeky answer: "Keep dreaming."

Then a wandering bard cleared his throat on top of a barrel. Music out, a catchy tune about "the herb that makes gods weep." Soon the entire tavern joined the chorus:

"At the Boar so ashen, the dumbstruck dine,

Where Wyrmleaf warms the heart and drains the adventure's pocket.

Taste the green delight, betwixt dawn and night,

And swear you heard angels laughing in the night!"

Derek winced. "Remind me to charge extra for performance royalty."

News reached the neighbouring Kingdom and estates. A finance merchant in fine ok lush green robes arrived, eyes glittering greedily.

"Your Wyrmleaf… will you sell it? Or the recipe?"

Kaelen sipped his drink. "Both are available, at the right price."

The merchant paled. "Five million XP?"

Kaelen shrugged. "Demand is high and it is really special."

Eyes widened. The merchant dared not argue with him, instead scribbled something in a scroll.

Late that afternoon, the mysterious Baron Dreynor returned, with five small, polite apprentices in tow. Each had a plate. And each vanished into the herb with one bite at a time…

When the last fork returned, Dreynor looked directly at Kaelen, cheeks pink. "That… that is the most beautiful taste I've ever felt."

Kaelen winked. "Flattery costs extra, sir."

Dreynor smiled, paid another 25,000 XP, and left, silent satisfaction radiating from his deputy.

After closing, Derek poured mugs for his team outside under the starlit sky.

Neal cracked open his mug. "So… is this just temporary fame? Or are we really going to be rich."

Kaelen leaned back, grinning. "Who knows? Maybe we'd sell Wyrmleaf across the realm."

Alira flicked ash from her mug. "As long as no one dies."

Derek nodded. "We build this slowly. No hasty choices."

Late into the night, the door creaked. In walked a tall, slender figure.

She carried herself like royalty, soft-spoken, intelligent, quietly intense. It was the Royal Inspector of Cuisine.

Her gaze swept over the tavern and its broken-down charm. Then she looked at Kaelen.

"I've come to see if what the legend holds is true," she said quietly.

Kaelen smirked. "You've come to drink and dine, madam."

She inclined her head and sat. Kaelen then hurried Kaelen into the kitchen and in the next moment came out with a dish in hand then placed the plate before her. The aroma made her expression liven. She took a single bite…

A soft inhale. Then her eyes closed. A slow exhale. She opened her eyes and met Kaelen's.

"Amazing," she said. "I will write a report."

The tavern seemed to hold its breath.

As the Inspector ate, Kaelen stepped away and locked eyes with Derek. At that moment, they both knew. This was the beginning of something bigger.

The tavern had its first real seal of approval.

Outside, a horn sounded faintly across the courtyard, at once a signal of victory and the distant echo of tomorrow's dawn.

At the capital of Frahein, within the silver walls of the royal court, the Royal Inspector of Cuisine stood before a panel of lords, nobles, and bureaucrats. Her posture, as always, was impeccable. Her voice, cool and sharp.

She unrolled a parchment and began her statement.