Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.7 – Irene Windler is the Neighbor Next Door (2)
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Polenta was a porridge-like dish made from easily obtainable grains like corn, barley, or chestnuts.
It had a rough texture that stood out, surprisingly gritty compared to its appearance, but that was part of its charm.
Made with cheap, accessible ingredients, it was popular among the common folk, especially the poor who could eat their fill without worry.
Yet, when prepared well, it was as delicious as any fine dish and filled you up quickly, making it perfect as emergency rations.
Best of all, it wasn't just eaten as porridge. By adding more cornmeal or barley flour and letting it set, it became something like...
'Delicious rice cake.'
Chewy, flavorful corn cakes with that signature gritty texture—what else could they be?
Mixed with goat cheese and a few herbs, it wasn't bland at all.
It was a hearty meal that could carry you through the day.
"Great idea. Eating it like porridge was fine, but this way is refreshing, and I can't stop grabbing more."
"I learned it back when I worked part-time... I mean, at an inn! I make it like this often because it's so tasty."
"Really? It's a new way for me. Do you mind telling me which inn? I'd love to go try it myself."
"Oh, uh, it's probably gone now. That was... so long ago."
"I see?"
"Y-Yes!"
...
She's lying through her teeth.
If you're going to lie, at least put some effort into it.
'Whatever she did before possession, it sure wasn't anything arts-related.'
No one that bad at acting would come from performing arts.
'She's bland in a whole other way.'
Is it because she's a romance heroine?
The leads in those stories always act all thorough, then get backstabbed and their IQ plummets. Is she one of those?
'She's on par with the maid, but this...?'
Over there, Leira had choked while wolfing down the cakes, frantically searching for water, then dunked her face into a basin.
Just drink it normally—does she have to do it that way?
...Watching keeps things from getting boring, but as an acquaintance, it's embarrassing to show outsiders.
"Um, is that lady okay over there?"
"Just ignore her."
"Huh?"
"...Don't worry about it. She's tough as nails health-wise."
"...Oh, okay."
Irene blinked in curiosity at Leira, then caught Lee Han's gaze and bowed her head again.
She looked like a pitiful soul begging a loan shark for money.
Seeing this, Lee Han wondered.
'Did I do something awful to her?'
Her trembling, kitten-like demeanor made him feel like he'd committed some crime, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.
Sending off the neighbors after sharing the housewarming polenta—er, cakes—without a drink would be rude, especially since they already knew each other. So Lee Han offered her tea and had her sit for a bit.
Besides, Irene didn't seem reluctant or unhappy about it.
Surprisingly, she sat down as if she'd been waiting and sipped her tea while finishing off the polenta she'd brought.
She adapted quickly.
But that was exactly why.
'Suspicious.'
Honestly, she had zero wariness, which was suspicious in itself.
Think about it.
There was no connection between her and Lee Han.
Though he had to investigate Irene Windler personally, that was known only to Isis and him.
Yet here was surveillance target No. 2, suddenly moving in next door.
...The house had been empty just yesterday, so of course it was suspicious.
His guard shot up, and Lee Han subtly probed.
"Cadet Irene, sorry to pry into personal matters, but mind if I ask a question?"
"Huh?"
"I'll take that as a yes. Why settle in a remote spot like this? As a cadet Irene, you could use the dorms or stay at a Galahad estate. From what I know, the Galahad family owns about seventy percent of the buildings near the Academy."
"......"
"Sorry if that's too personal."
"N-No, it's a fair question..."
She said it was fine, but her face wasn't bright. Wondering if there was some backstory, Lee Han upped his focus without her noticing.
He'd just reviewed info on Duke Galahad, after all.
Who knew.
She might be suffering somehow.
Or maybe kicked from the dorms for being common-born...!
"-The dorm application period ended before I even knew about it, and the Galahad estate felt too much. Honestly, that old man's creepy, so I didn't want to be near it."
"...?"
"No, seriously, that guy's weird, right? His eyes give me chills every time! He looks like a pretty boy, but his speech and actions are so sleazy! I just don't want to be close. So I turned down everything they offered. I don't want the hassle, and... uh."
"......"
"P-Pretend you didn't hear that...?"
"...Gladly."
"......Thank you."
She had quite the backlog, it seemed.
She really held a grudge against the duke.
'Huh. Reasonable reasons, all of them.'
Some might question how he could verify it was true, but Lee Han was certain it wasn't a lie or act.
Why?
Thump, thump.
His heartbeat told him.
His hearing caught the chest's rhythm more precisely than a stethoscope.
He trusted his ability, which even awed Isis.
'-She's a bit airheaded but honest.'
Through some more conversation, Lee Han gauged what kind of person Irene Windler was.
She had clumsy, lacking sides, but that was common in teens and twenties.
Limited experience and social circles caused it.
Not dissing her—just stating the obvious.
Sure, she was a bit sloppy and blurted things out, but chalk that up to spellcaster psychosis.
And at that level...
'She's remarkably normal for a spellcaster.'
Considering nine out of ten were psychopaths, she wasn't even eccentric.
Lee Han held biased views on mages, but he didn't think he was wrong.
All nine he'd met were indeed psychopaths.
Though they'd all died by his hand.
"Ugh, huh!? S-Sudden chill..."
"Hut too cold? Bear with it. Lots of spots still need fixing."
"Oh, it's fine. More importantly, Instructor, please take care of me. Now that we're neighbors, we'll see each other often."
"...Likewise, Cadet Irene Windler."
Her friendly hand extended first.
Lee Han usually only gripped spellcasters' hands to smash them with a hammer or burn them with a torch, so this normal handshake felt novel.
Why such a lame impression from holding a woman's hand?
You don't factor gender with spellcasters.
How vicious they were.
Her appeal as a woman halved just from being a mage. And as the mad duke's adopted—or possibly real—daughter, it plunged into the negatives.
Getting involved would only bring trouble.
'Sweet nature, if only the nature...'
No amount of pluses could turn a negative positive.
......Especially since.
'...That lunatic, how much does he look down on people?'
Her foster father was such a nutjob, the negatives just piled up.
Tsk!
Sensing stealthy presences and scents creeping around the hut, he finally frowned and clicked his tongue.
No host welcomes hyenas prowling with blood on their breath.
Meanwhile, Irene Windler grew tenser, her body stiffening.
'D-Did I mess up somehow?'
[Irene, hang in there! Win over the knight somehow!]
'...This is all your fault.'
The ghost nagging her all day to move next to the knight instructor had forced her hand.
Ah, but she hadn't lied.
About the dorms or hating the duke.
She just regretted not getting a nicer place.
She wasn't into huts— a fancy inn with good soundproofing and cleaning service would be ideal.
As if sensing her thoughts...
Irene looked apologetic, but...
[Sorry, but this is great. Look at those muscles! How are they so sculpted? Even carved stone wouldn't compare!]
Her remorse was fleeting. A pervert brazenly voicing desire stood there.
'...Gross.'
[M-Maybe pretend it was an accident and touch them once? I need to feel those muscles!]
'...You say that like ruining my social standing is nothing.'
[Muscles over social standing!]
'......Shut up.'
At the ghost's mad ravings in her head, Irene barely suppressed a sigh.
Still, she couldn't help sneaking glances at the knight instructor's body.
He wore a sleeveless T-shirt with a deep neckline, his contours sharp and clear.
The ghost's nonstop muscle talk drew her eyes unwittingly.
And confirming it...
'W-Wow, the view's a treat.'
Hearts linked.
Like friends rubbing off on each other over seven years—even their tastes in food and clothes aligned.
...Even taste in men.