Dining with Stella (2)
'Expensive food isn't half bad.'
Alan thought as he sliced into the beef so tender it practically melted in his mouth, blood still faintly warm. But even so, 1 gold for a single meal? That was just ridiculous. They weren't feeding the cows gold-dusted grass or anything, or pigs fattened on green tea. What made it so damn pricey? In the end, once it hit your tongue, it was all just meat.
'Tender, though.'
That was about the only difference Alan could pick up on. Crunch crunch. As he sawed away at the slab on his plate, he grumbled inwardly.
'Way too expensive. Way too much. Even showing off shouldn't go this far.'
1 copper was worth 2,000 won. 1 silver, 200,000 won. 1 gold? 4 million won.
'4 million for one meal? Who does that?'
Sure, chaebol kids dropped hundreds of thousands on lunch without blinking, but Alan—successful webnovel author though he'd been—was no monthly millionaire kicker. To him, this was pure extravagance.
'1 silver gets you over 20 chickens. Wait, no.'
Back before the reincarnation truck hit, chicken prices had ballooned to 30,000 won baseline anyway. Just thinking about it still made his teeth grind.
'Gold-plated chickens? You lunatics.'
A surge of rage at his past life's peasant cuisine made his hand tremble on the knife.
'Useless thoughts.'
Alan silently resumed cutting.
Stella now truly understood what it meant to feel suffocated. Not a single word of conversation passed across the table—an oppressively rigid atmosphere that dredged up her worst memories.
'Feels just like home...'
The Evans family prided itself on its stiff, choking traditions. With no sons, only one daughter, the family head had raised Stella harshly. She'd gripped a sword before learning a lady's poise, and that strict upbringing made her hate this vibe with a passion. Stiff and suffocating, just like home.
The clink of dishes, the sharp clang of cutlery scraping like it was racing across plates—it all yanked her bad memories to the surface.
"So, what is it you wanted to say? Stella von Evans."
Meia handed him a napkin as he wiped his mouth—had he already demolished his portion? Alan's eyes fixed on Stella.
She let out a startled yelp at his words. Amid the rhythmic symphony of cutlery and plates came a discordant crash—a fork slipping from her grip in shock.
"M-me?!"
"Who else? Someone else here?"
Alan sounded utterly baffled.
"So, what's on your mind?"
"Uh, um..."
Felicia sighed softly at Stella's panic, fumbling for words. She'd set this up because Stella had been overly conscious of Alan and House Mueller since that incident—but at this rate...
As Felicia pondered alternatives, Alan sliced into a fresh steak and spoke up.
"You worried you're here 'cause you think what you said last time was rude?"
"H-how did you...?"
"Can't think of anything else we'd need to talk about."
Alan set down his knife briefly.
Stella stammered.
"Th-that's..."
"No way. You've been hung up on that?"
Alan clicked his tongue.
"Worrying over nothing. If I'd thought you were rude, you think I'd let it slide?"
Stella shook her head.
Alan popped some meat in his mouth and sighed.
"Think about it. The duke's youngest throwing his weight around over every little slight? That'd look great, right?"
"Oh, it was rare for Duke Mueller to come all the way to the capital himself. Right, Alan?"
"Honestly didn't expect him."
He'd sent a letter home, sure, but never imagined it'd flip the academy upside down. Of course, Father left quickly for business, skipping a visit—so they hadn't met.
"Anyway, being a duke's kid is a pain. People start overreading every move."
Even when I mean nothing by it, Alan grumbled inwardly, chewing slowly.
"Point is, no grudge or payback planned. Don't sweat it."
"Uh? Oh..."
Stunned by his casual tone, Stella reacted slowly.
Alan continued.
"MacKellan aside, obviously. Guy attacks you right in your face? Needs a lesson."
"...If you hadn't, I would've."
"Please don't say that, Princess. Your attention alone might kill me."
"Hmm, maybe drag you to the palace and turn you into a writing machine."
Alan's eyes widened in horror at her wistful tone.
"...Please never say that, Princess. Scary even as a joke."
"Joke? Dead serious."
Felicia grinned.
"Don't wanna lose you to anyone."
"Pass on being canned."
"Tch. Knew you'd say that. If only you weren't a Mueller..."
"Scary, so stop, Princess. Please."
Alan grimaced. Why was this princess so fixated on him? No grudge there. Unfathomable.
Noticing Stella's blank stare, he cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Anyway, no blowback for you or House Evans. Worry off. If there was, it'd already be irreversible wreckage."
"...Thanks, I guess."
"That all?"
"Uh? Yeah..."
"Big nothingburger. Novel fodder, maybe."
Alan whipped out a memo pad and portable fountain pen, scribbling furiously.
Felicia's eyes lit up.
"Even this sparks inspiration?"
"Yeah. More people, events—the richer the material, the more detailed the writing."
"Hehe, true enough?"
Felicia laughed. Alan felt uneasy.
"Princess...?"
"News soon. Wait up."
A chill of foreboding ran down his spine.
"Glad it worked out, Stella. Misunderstandings could've snowballed irreversibly."
"N-not that bad..."
"You didn't see your face. Know how you looked while Alan just ate in silence?"
Stella's voice shrank at Felicia's words.
"W-was it that obvious, Princess...?"
"If he hadn't spoken first, you'd have withered on the spot."
"Th-that bad?!"
"No joke. Looked like you were back home."
Stella fell silent. Spot on—she had been.
Felicia pressed on.
"Anyway, make it work."
"Y-yes??"
"Build a good rapport with Alan."
"Ah, got it, Princess."
Her blind obedience needs fixing first, Felicia sighed inwardly, shaking her head.
Stella's loyalty was unquestionable. But it overreached sometimes—like trying to block Alan mid-chat. Sure, she was the princess's guard, but if Alan had taken offense then, payback on her and House Evans would've been effortless.
Good thing she didn't draw.
Imagining her swinging at him to "separate" them? Everything would've imploded. A shiver hit her. Alan wasn't the trapped one—she was keeping him from bolting. Lucky break.
Tricky...
Tension gone, hunger hit Stella hard—she was polishing off the leftovers.
No impure vibes possible between women, top-tier sword skills, peak loyalty. Plenty to admire about Stella. Without that sword prowess, a minor noble's knighthood wouldn't land her as princess's guard.
"Stella."
"Yhep?"
"Swallow before answering."
"Ah, yheph."
Gulp. Stella chugged water—choked on her rush.
"What do you think of Alan's work?"
"No lit background, so... not sure."
She scratched her cheek.
"But Shuren Chronicle's amazing. Even inspires my swordplay."
"Inspires how?"
"Saw illustrations circulating—technique demos."
"They're out there?"
Felicia's surprise drew Stella's nod.
"Yeah. Mana flow's undetailed, so hard to internalize, but..."
"Fascinating. Volume 2 will explode."
Felicia stood.
"Shall we hit the student hall?"
A mischievous smile played on her lips.
"Wait up, Alan. Giving you a real treat."