Chapter 22
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Counterfeit Frost Strawberries
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Now in the fourth week of pregnancy. In other words, morning sickness had begun.
The basement of the Eisen Guard manor.
A heavy iron door creaked open, unleashing a blast of frigid air.
"Ugh... it's cold."
The Eisen Baron shivered, pulling his thick coat collar tighter.
Me? I felt refreshed instead.
"Feels nice and cool. Reminds me of home—kinda comforting, right?"
I puffed out a breath, watching it fog, and stepped inside. A massive cavern-like space unfolded before us.
The ceiling dangled with glowing blue magic stones, and beneath them sat all sorts of foodstuffs, preserved under a layer of frost.
"Ice Warehouse."
A straightforward name for the pinnacle of imperial magic engineering—a colossal magic stone powering sub-zero temperatures year-round.
The kind of mega-fridge only nobles or wealthy merchants could afford.
"Whoa... impressive imperial tech. Turning summer into winter with just one magic stone."
I meant it sincerely.
Of course, my tribe didn't need gadgets like this.
Step outside, and the whole world was a natural freezer.
But in civilized lands, storing meat without it rotting was a huge perk.
"Haha, well, to Norheim folk, it might seem like a luxury."
The Eisen Baron gave a wry smile.
"Maintenance costs a fortune, but for fresh ingredients in the territory? Worth every coin. Come on, let's hurry. Kara's waiting."
We headed deeper into the warehouse with grim determination, toward the section marked with a sign reading "Gifts from the Winter Claw Tribe."
The spot where those massive bundles from my tribesfolk—packed for our border crossing with the baron last time—were stored.
The very luggage that had crushed us in the carriage.
"I'll start over here!"
"Got it!"
We dove in, rummaging like mad.
Dried reindeer meat.
Smoked fish.
Bundles of herbs...
"Nothing here either."
"This crate's a bust too."
Thirty minutes passed.
Our faces darkened.
Everything was there... except the one crucial thing.
"...Gone. Damn it, everything but the strawberries!"
I clutched my head.
It made sense, really.
Snowfield strawberries only fruited in Norheim's deepest winter, in the coldest shadows.
The problem? They grew encased in a thin icy shell.
The moment that thawed, the flesh turned to mush faster than regular strawberries.
Any warmth or bump during transport ruined them—fragile as glass.
No way they survived a wagon trek inland, especially in a non-refrigerated cargo hold.
Merchants avoided shipping them fresh; most turned them into jam or preserves.
"Baron... any other fruit shops or warehouses in the territory...?"
I grasped at straws, but he shook his head.
"I... I already... s-sent Ronas to... ch-check everywh-where..."
"...?"
His voice sounded off.
I turned. His shirt was soaked with sweat, body trembling.
From the study, he'd bolted down here without his overcoat—tie loosened, the uptight guy sprinting full-tilt.
The sudden exertion plus basement chill had triggered his old Norheim stutter from cold exposure.
"By n-now... even regular... st-strawberries... might be around... but Norheim fr-frost strawberries...? N-no chance."
He chattered his teeth, delivering the bad news.
Imagining Kara's disappointment if we came back empty-handed made my vision blur.
What husband tells his nauseous wife, "Sorry, couldn't find any. Deal with it"?
Then, the shivering baron spoke cautiously.
"B-Barg... if the straight path... f-fails... maybe a tr-trick...?"
"A trick?"
"Make regular... st-strawberries look like... fr-frost ones."
"...Pardon?"
I couldn't believe my ears.
"You mean scam her? My pregnant wife?"
"N-not a scam! It's pl-placeholder therapy... p-psychological treatment... and culinary magic!"
This world had a concept for placebo effect? Wild.
The baron flashed his glasses, trembling as he ranted.
"What Kara craves isn't the name 'frost strawberry'... it's that unique 'taste' and 'texture'! Sour, icy cold, crisp! We recreate that!"
"..."
It felt shady.
But no options left.
Couldn't fly back to Norheim right now.
Fake or not, we had to ease her sickness.
"...Fine. Let's try it. What the hell."
I clenched my fist.
Moments later, in the manor kitchen.
"Huff... huff... got 'em!"
Ronas burst in, panting, box in hand.
Running errands on foot without servants must be an Eisen family trait.
He opened the box, revealing plump, ruby-red strawberries neatly packed.
"The priciest, sweetest premium southern imperial strawberries from the market! One gold coin each!"
Ronas boasted proudly, but the baron and I exchanged uneasy looks.
Problem: they were too perfect.
Imperial strawberries? Big, sweet, soft.
Snowfield ones? Small, sour, firm.
We had to Frankenstein opposites.
"Alright. Time to mod these into 'frost strawberries.'"
I scribbled frost strawberry traits from memory on the chalkboard.
Scribble-scribble.
"Ooh, Father trained you well in handwriting," Ronas noted approvingly.
"Frost Strawberry Traits"
【1. Not smooth like regular strawberries—rough, bumpy clusters like tiny red grapes forming a flower.】
【2. Taste: intensely sour with a cold, refreshing finish. (Almost no sweetness)】
【3. Surface must be dusted with white frost.】
The head chef and maid clutched their heads after reading.
"Heavens... smash these expensive ones?"
"The shape? Cluster like grapes? Carve and reassemble each one?"
"We must. For Lady Kara's cravings."
At the baron's command, the kitchen turned lab.
The chef mixed lemon juice, vinegar, and lime zest into ultra-sour sauce.
"More! Sourer! Tongue-curling sour!"
The maid wielded tweezers, dismantling and rebuilding berry flesh into flower shapes.
"Don't let it slump! Dab with syrup!"
And me? Gnawing ice.
Crunch-crunch.
Grind to fine powder, dust for frosty visuals.
"Colder! Frost strawberries numb your mouth!"
The baron timed us with a stopwatch.
We obsessed like lunatics.
Was this cooking?
Alchemy, maybe.
In a world with placebos, we might've pioneered molecular gastronomy.
An hour of battle later...
"W-we did it..."
The chef shakily presented the plate.
There: gleaming crimson "fake frost strawberries," cloaked in white frost.
Shape...
Close enough.
Taste...
Made my mouth water just thinking.
"This'll fool... er, satisfy her."
The baron wiped sweat, nodding.
We carried the plate to the study, faces set.
It had to work.
No choice.
At the study door.
The baron and I swallowed hard.
Behind: maid, chef, eager for verdict. Even Ronas, who'd skipped work, tagged along.
All tense—Kara might snap from nausea.
'What if she rages? Spots the fake and chucks it?'
I gripped the knob gingerly.
But then...
"Hee hee... really?"
Kara's soft laugh leaked out.
"...?"
We exchanged glances, peeked through the crack.
Unexpected scene inside.
Kara reclined on the sofa, Eisen's youngest daughter Alina glued to her side.
Alina stroked Kara's belly with tiny hands, reading a picture book.
"...And the brave knight saved the princess. The end!"
Alina slammed the book shut triumphantly.
Her reading was halting—new to letters—but earnest and sweet.
"Hear that, baby? This big sis... wait, auntie? Anyway, I'll read something funner later."
Alina whispered to the belly.
Kara beamed, petting her head.
"Thanks, Alina. Baby loves your voice—kicked! Feel it?"
"Really? Hee hee... it is! Squirming!"
Too early for fetal movement, of course.
Kara probably tensed her belly for the kid's sake.
Her warm white lie sent Alina bouncing excitedly.
That peaceful, heartwarming sight.
The child's clumsy warmth melting Kara's nausea-sharpened nerves.
'Thank goodness.'
We both sighed in relief.
Perfect timing.
She'd take our fakes happily now.
"Let's go in."
The baron signaled.
I nodded solemnly, plate in hand, flung the door wide.
"Kara! Strawberries!"
Tasting fate approached.
"Oh, you're back? Wow... real frost strawberries!"
Kara's eyes sparkled as she took the plate.
Alina peered curiously too.
Then Alina tilted her head.
"But sis, how'd you meet that husband guy?"
"...Huh?"
Kara froze at the sudden question.
The room's air shifted subtly.
Everyone but me perked up ears.
Baron adjusted glasses, pretending nonchalance—but ears radar-locked on her.
Maid and butler halted closing the door, eavesdrop mode.
Even Ronas peeked through.
All dying to know.
'What, it's no big deal?'
I was baffled.
Our meeting? Far from romantic.
Human-looking beast snared in a trap, chieftain's daughter.
Adopted brother and sister.
Just growled on sight, fought till bonded.
No dramatic encounter, no destined romance.
Figured she'd say, "Nothing special. Grew up together," deflating it.
But.
"Hmm... our first meeting?"
Kara blushed, smiling softly.
Sapphire eyes misted with nostalgia.
"It was a freezing day. In a blizzard-ravaged forest, Barg was... fighting a huge wolf pack alone."
"Whoa..."
Alina's eyes widened.
Others lit up: Classic barbarian romance!
'Wait, that was me trapped, nearly dying. Why romanticize? You weren't even there!'
I nearly interrupted, but Kara rolled on.
"Covered in wounds, he growled at me... but those eyes, like a lost wolf pup. Couldn't leave him."
"Then? Then?"
"So... I took him home. To make him my husband."
"Eee! Sis is awesome!"
Alina clapped; baron and staff smiled warmly.
'Wait, you were the stray, in-law?'
Total distortion, but vibe too good to butt in.
Alina might demand proposal tales next.
Cliff race story? Ruin the mood.
Plus...
'Strawberries melting!'
Fakes losing frost in room temp, shine fading.
Melted powder would expose them.
Cold sweat beaded; I timed it.
Then Alina pointed at Kara's belly, eyes sparkling.
"But sis, what's the baby look like in there?"
"...!!!"
Silence blanketed the study.
Kara's face exploded red.
Baron coughed, looked away; Ronas slammed door on his hand, yelped.
"Ow!"
Adults synced thoughts.
'Now!'
'Change subject!'
'Can't shatter innocence!'
I snatched a berry, popped it in Kara's mouth.
"Here, honey! Ahh~! Eat before it melts—best fresh!"
"Mmph?!"
Kara chomped reflexively.
Baron scooped Alina, overacting.
"Oh! Naptime, Alina! Brother'll read you stories! C'mon!"
"Huh? Really? Brother? But you're busy?"
"Uh? Y-yeah..."
Ronas got dragged out cluelessly.
We traded "aged ten years" looks.
Berry still cold, passed her taste test.
"Ooh... sour! But yummy! Barg, you're the best!"
Kara thumbs-upped, devouring them.
The baron and I sighed, relieved.
A day of colder sweat than frost strawberries.