Chapter 33: Today's Menu
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 33: Today's Menu
“…We are… real.”
“We are a real couple.”
“It’s not as if we’re a fake couple, is it?”
The Grand Duke muttered in a low voice, barely audible.
“It is a marriage vow notarized by the Temple, after all.”
“Ah… right. The documents are real.”
It was just that we had promised to end that marriage within a year.
Wait, why did he adapt so quickly?
Until recently, he’d been making a fuss about how there was no need to pretend to be a couple.
I blinked blankly at the Grand Duke, who was sending me a reproachful look as if I were the one committing adultery.
*
I had stepped out to the inn for lunch for the first time in a while.
Marie had spent a good while bowing repeatedly, swearing she would cherish the brooch I gave her as a lifelong family heirloom. Once she finally calmed down and went to the kitchen to make the stew, I took a look around the inn’s dining area.
I had arrived during a relatively off-peak hour, but even so, the inn was quiet.
The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me.
On the day of my first outing, how warmly Marie and Jacques had welcomed me. And how warm that tomato stew had been, the one I finally ate after wandering through Gold Lane all day.
I want this inn to do well.
It wasn't that my resolve to stay out of other people's business had weakened. It was just that since I had received something, I wanted to give back just as much.
Besides, marketing is my specialty.
How could I increase the number of guests at the inn?
The owners were kind, and the food was delicious. Knowing them, the rooms were undoubtedly clean as well.
The fact that there were no customers despite these conditions meant there was no demand.
Was the location the problem?
It wasn't the absolute best spot, but with the Gold Lane commercial district nearby, it wasn't bad either.
The problem is that there are no tourists, so we have to draw in the residents of the Blenheim estate as customers…
While I was racking my brain, Jacques and a line of workers entered the shop carrying baskets. It seemed it was time to bring in the ingredients.
“Oh, Your Highness! You’ve come.”
Yes, I’m back.
I waved off Jacques, who had set down his basket to offer a whispered greeting, signaling for him to continue his work. Baskets filled with various vegetables and greens headed toward the kitchen in a steady stream.
“Do you have a large group coming in?”
I asked with a puzzled look as Marie approached, having just finished baking bread to go with the steaming stew. Even at a glance, the amount of ingredients seemed substantial.
“No, Your Highness. It’s just that I tend to be a bit heavy-handed. I like to keep a generous stock of ingredients…”
To call it just "heavy-handed," it looked like they were preparing for a feast. Were they buying in bulk to save on costs?
“How many days’ worth is that?”
“It’s about two to three days’ worth.”
“Do you use all that in just two days?”
“No, actually, quite a lot of ingredients end up going to waste.”
“Huh? Then wouldn't it be better to buy just a little at a time?”
“I’d like to, but I never know what the guests might order. Since I don’t know which dishes will be in demand, I try to prepare plenty of everything…”
Marie added as if making an excuse, perhaps reading my dismayed expression.
If a business expert had heard this, they would have clicked their tongue in disapproval.
Predicting necessary ingredients to minimize waste is the absolute basic. If they ordered that much every time, I doubted they’d have any profit left, no matter how well the business did.
This isn't the stage to be worrying about a new customer base.
There were no menus in this inn’s restaurant.
While it was unlikely that someone would order something completely outlandish, it reflected the owner’s desire to make whatever the guest wanted.
From the guests' perspective, having a wide range of choices might be nice, but from the owner's perspective, preparing the ingredients was bound to be incredibly difficult.
She’s doing it out of her own will, so she must be accepting a certain amount of loss.
But even so, unnecessary spending is waste.
“Ah!”
Thinking about it, there was a very simple way to solve the problem.
“In that case, how about creating a ‘Today’s Menu’?”
“Today’s Menu?”
“You decide on a specific dish every day and post it in the shop. And for guests who order the ‘Today’s Menu,’ you give them a small discount or a complimentary treat.”
If you can't predict the guests' orders, one way is to guide them in a certain direction.
Using the carrots of discounts and freebies.
I added an explanation as I watched Marie’s bewildered expression.
“There might be people like me who come here specifically for the tomato stew, but there are also many people who don't have anything particular in mind. The ‘Today’s Menu’ is a recommendation for people like that.”
A glass of wine? Or a small pudding?
If even a small benefit were provided, many people coming to the restaurant would choose the daily special.
If that happened, they could focus on preparing ingredients primarily for the ‘Today’s Menu,’ making it easier to predict the quantity needed.
When I added that they could keep a minimal amount of extra ingredients for other dishes to significantly reduce inventory, Jacques, who had been listening nearby, let out an exclamation.
“That is such an ingenious idea!”
Marie’s eyes also sparkled as she spoke.
“You’re right. I think the guests would find it really fun too! Your Highness, how on earth did you think of such a thing?”
Seeing the couple’s admiring reactions made me feel a bit sheepish.
Well, whatever. I’m the first one to think of it in this world, anyway.
Popular items, today’s recommendations, special sets.
It wasn't even really marketing. In the world before I was reincarnated, it was the basic of basics that almost every restaurant practiced. It felt a bit shameless to act as if it had come entirely from my own head, but who would know?
I pushed my embarrassment deep down.
Watching the couple talk excitedly about deciding on tomorrow’s menu and service, I finished my tomato stew and left the inn.
It was when the carriage had reached the entrance of the Grand Duke’s Castle.
The gates opened, but as we entered, there was a commotion inside. I saw guards holding a young girl, interrogating her roughly.
“What is going on?”
When Norton asked, one of the guards glanced into the carriage and said with a troubled look, “We caught a girl coming out of the castle holding a suspicious bundle of papers. It appears they belong to Her Highness the Consort.”
Since the guard’s words reached inside, I opened the carriage door and stepped out. Norton hurriedly dismounted to escort me, but I was faster.
The guard who saw me spoke with a stiff, tense face.
“Your Highness. That wench…”
“That girl.”
When I cut him off and corrected him, the color drained slightly from the guard’s face.
“Pardon? Ah, yes! That… girl said she was here on an errand, so we let her in, but when she was leaving, we saw she had a bundle of papers hidden in her clothes. They looked like high-quality paper, so we checked, and they seemed to be letters written by Your Highness…”
When I held out my hand, Norton soon took the bundle of papers and handed them to me.
This?
The papers were the practice sheets I had scribbled on while trying to write a letter to Ferdin. I looked at the girl held by the guards. I didn't recognize her face, but she looked familiar somehow.
“Where did you get this?”
When I asked, the girl clamped her mouth shut. The guard holding her shook her roughly by the scruff of her neck.
“Her Highness is asking you a question! Why aren't you answering?”
The girl’s brown hair shook violently at the guard’s rough movement.
“Stop! What do you think you’re doing to a child?”
The startled guard flinched and loosened his grip, glancing at me.
His eyes looked somewhat aggrieved, as if he felt he was being rebuked by the Grand Duchess despite only doing his job diligently.
The letters don't contain much, but…
The letters I wrote weren't anything special in themselves, but their leaking to the outside was a different matter.
Publicly, I was positioned as the third child whom Marquis Frais had hidden away and cherished. The words I had written in the letters could be enough of a clue to deduce the uncomfortable relationship between the Marquis, Ferdin, and me.
For someone digging into the Marquis’s family for whatever reason, even that would be valuable information.
They could even use this to forge my handwriting.
Above all, hadn't they said that the Grand Duke’s Castle itself was classified as a military zone? Stealing the Grand Duchess’s correspondence might be a serious crime on par with leaking imperial secrets.
I looked back at the girl with a troubled heart.
If she wasn't sent by Marquis Frais… are there others trying to dig into me?
Since I didn't have a dedicated lady-in-waiting or maid, the number of people who could enter my room was quite large.
Whatever the case, I should have taken better care of my things.
While I was lost in thought for a moment, Norton suddenly drew his sword and approached the silent girl.
“On whose errand did you enter?”
As the sharp blade pointed at her throat, terror filled the girl’s eyes. Her tightly shut mouth trembled and fell open.
“I—I was just, I was just curious about the inside of the castle…!”
“You’d better come clean. Knights have the right of summary execution for any threats within the castle.”
Norton pressed the sword closer, his eyes as cold as ice.