The Merchant's Son (2)
Unable to withstand the pressure closing in from all sides, Nathan finally shouted.
"I'm going to get some air!"
"Na-Nathan!"
"I can't hear you! Don't try to stop me!"
Eyes squeezed shut, he fled the parlor as if his life depended on it.
BANG!
And just like that, Nathan vanished like the wind, leaving the three women alone with his parents.
"Ahahaha, hah. Ah, I'm dying. My stomach hurts."
Noah, the only member of the Kell family who knew the truth, was clutching her sides, barely containing her laughter.
"Mom, Dad. Oppa didn't come home to announce he's getting married."
"What? He's not?"
His dream flatly denied, Tillion's face fell in a remarkably obvious way.
"They're people he's obligated to protect as an immigration officer. That's why he brought them along."
"People he's... protecting?"
Miriam pressed a hand to her chest, struggling to calm her racing heart, her voice trembling.
"I-I mean, really, how could he possibly... bring guests like these?"
She'd nearly fainted when the Intelligence Department had shown up all those years ago — and now her son, back after four years, had brought home a Great Saint, a princess, and a dragon.
Just what on earth had he been doing for four years to assemble a combination like this?
"...So it isn't a wedding after all."
Tillion shook his head in wistful disappointment, gazing at the spot where Nathan had bolted.
But none of the three women moved to correct him.
"..."
"..."
"..."
They only stole glances at one another with faintly reddened faces, feigning indifference.
And to them, Miriam bowed her head deeply.
"I-I'm so sorry. I failed to recognize who you were, and I committed a terrible discourtesy—"
"Oh, no! No, no, no! It's fine! Please lift your head, Mother... I mean, madam!"
"Uuuuh!"
"Your apology is accepted."
Three women, three entirely different replies.
Only then did Miriam truly see them.
The sky-haired saint, suppressing it still, yet faintly radiating a golden aura of divine power. The princess with the emerald eyes of the royal line, who managed nothing but vague murmurs. And then... a doting dragon who was even now gently stroking the head of the family's mistress — Miriam herself.
My, Nathan has brought home quite the extraordinary women.
What on earth had he lived through to gather people like these? And to show up unannounced, no less, calling it a vacation.
The son she hadn't seen in so long had grown beyond all recognition.
Gone was the nineteen-year-old boy who'd screamed at her that he was leaving home. In his place stood a man grown properly into himself, returning with his head held high.
And then... one more thing.
"...Thank you. Truly."
Miriam, steadied by Erzena's supporting arm, rose and bowed her head once more.
"I'm sorry?"
"That boy, back then... how should I put it..."
What would be the right way to say it?
As she fell into a moment of thought, Noah picked up the thread.
"He was cold. Calculating, too."
"Yes. More of a merchant than anyone I've ever known."
She still remembered it clearly.
— Do we really need that?
— Anything with low utility gets cut. Whatever it is.
— Fire them. Their circumstances are none of my concern.
The words that hung perpetually from young Nathan's lips back in his academy days.
It was hardly a surprise that his nickname in those days had been 'the Cold-Blooded One.'
A tightly drawn face and sharply honed eyes — a gaze that seemed to see the whole world as nothing but numbers.
That had been the Nathan Miriam knew.
"But looking at him today, his face has softened so very much. I imagine that's thanks to all of you."
The face her son had worn upon returning after four years was utterly different.
Laughing, grumbling, sighing, getting flustered — he'd shown her all of it.
It had been so long since she'd seen her son so vibrantly, so thoroughly alive.
But Erzena shook her head.
"The thanks is ours to give, madam."
"I'm sorry?"
"If it weren't for Nathan, none of us would be here today."
"Wh-what do you...?"
Erzena smiled faintly and looked toward the spot where Nathan had sat.
"You said he seemed like a merchant, madam. I honestly can't say I know what you mean. I've never seen that side of him. Isn't that right?"
"Uu."
"That's right."
Elaine and Mnassil agreed with all the placid simplicity of a fact long settled.
"The Nathan we know is..."
"Our guardian."
— Friend. And. The only one who understands.
"..."
As the other two answered with words and a word card, Erzena hesitated a moment before giving her own.
"He... he's precious to us. And Nathan treats us just as preciously in return."
A faint shimmer of divine power stirred in the air.
Seeing it, Noah murmured under her breath, looking a little startled.
"...Erzena, unnie."
"Th-that's, of course, purely as his protected charges! Yes, exactly. It's that kind of relationship — the kind Nathan is meant to protect, that's all."
Miriam watched her sudden fluster in silence for a moment, then spoke quietly.
"I see... Nathan never once sent a letter, you know. Just festival gifts and New Year's presents."
"..."
"Was he getting along well as an immigration officer?"
A mother wondering what sort of life her son — returned after four long years — had been living.
And a father who pretended indifference but sat with his ears all but visibly perked, staring off into the middle distance.
Faced with the couple's perfectly matched stubbornness, Erzena found herself smiling before she knew it.
They're wonderful people.
You could feel how deeply they loved their son just by watching them.
She didn't know why Nathan had chosen to become an immigration officer instead of following the merchant's path.
But even after an absence of four whole years, here was a mother who welcomed him with open arms, and a father who grumbled and groused and accepted him all the same.
Perhaps it was people like these that kept him steady.
If they had truly forced him down the merchant's road, then that strange bond between an immigration officer, a saint, a princess, and a dragon would never even have begun.
And so Erzena made up her mind.
"It... it may turn into rather a long story, but would you be willing to listen?"
She would tell them how each of them had come to be with Nathan.
As parents, they had every right to hear what kind of life their child had lived.
And more than anything, Erzena herself wanted to grow close to this woman — this mother of Nathan's.
"Gladly. I want to hear everything."
"Hmm."
It would be anything but a short tale.
But they had time to spare and then some.
Especially now, in a stretch of absolute peace called vacation.
It would not always be cheerful, nor would it be light.
Their first meeting with Nathan had hardly been a comedy.
But this moment, right here and now, was.
And so, drawing one deep breath, Erzena opened her mouth.
"The truth is, back in the south I was chosen as the single most important member of a pilgrimage for the Grand Cathedral — and I branded Nathan, who tried to stop me, a heretic."
"Y-you WHAT!?"
"HRNGK—!"
It was, of course, a well-kept secret that this incendiary opening very nearly sent Tillion and Miriam into dead faints all over again.
Only after the sun had fully set did I finally make my way back home.
And what awaited me when I returned in time for dinner was...
"U-um, madam! These are done baking — where should I put them?"
"Uuuuh?"
"Wife, I've finished smashing the pumpkins!"
Women who had never once set foot in a kitchen in their lives — cooking. Actually cooking.
And there was my mother, who in under three hours had adapted to the situation flawlessly.
"Erzena, dear. That goes on top after it's finished baking, so set it down there. Nathan used to sprinkle it on everything when he was little, so we'll be needing it."
"Oh...! Yes! Understood!"
Erzena set the cheese shaker down with the reverent, delicate care of someone handling a holy relic.
"Lady Elaine... no, wait. Elaine, dear. Cream soup only tastes right if you stir it steadily, without stopping. And since it's Nathan's favorite dish, we'd best make it well, shouldn't we?"
"!!! Uuuuuuu!!!"
— Whisk-whisk-whisk-whisk.
The instant my mother finished speaking, Elaine's eyes went bright as lamps and she began churning the pot with furious telekinetic vigor.
"And Lady Mnassil. You don't smash the pumpkin — you split it in half, so there's somewhere to put the filling. It's our family tradition, you see, so shall we try it a little more gently?"
"Oh, my. If it's tradition, then tradition must be kept. Our Central Officer will be pleased."
"He certainly will. He'll love it."
And last of all, Mnassil, slowly and carefully splitting her third pumpkin in two.
My mother had somehow taken my name and put it up for sale at top market rate, conscripting the most exalted personages on the continent into kitchen labor.
"Nathan, you're back! Just wait a moment, dear. Dinner's nearly ready."
"Uh..."
What on earth was going on here?
Confronted with a scene I never could have predicted — a scene I couldn't have imagined — I could only ask, dazed:
"...How did this happen?"
A question weighted with a great many meanings.
Miriam answered with a smile.
"I found myself remembering something your grandfather used to say. Whatever the situation, you might as well enjoy it."
And in her eyes as she said it, there was nothing but pure, uncomplicated delight.
"I've decided not to think about who those girls are or where they came from. They came under our roof, so they're simply guests. That's all there is to it."
"..."
"Of course, they're guests our son brought home specially — 'women he's living with,' so to speak. And really, when they heard they'd be cooking for you after so long away, they all threw themselves into it like that, you see?"
And with the last word, she gave me a wink.
Ah, Mother.
Why is it that you keep overlapping in my mind with that grinning menace of an Auditory Officer?
If this is what it's like even here, all the way out in the middle of nowhere, far from the Immigration Bureau — where on earth am I supposed to find any rest?
I leaned over slightly and asked Noah, who was busy staring into the oven.
"...What happened while I was gone?"
"Everyone talked with Mom for a while, and then her whole expression suddenly changed. And next thing I knew, she'd turned into that — full commander mode."
"Hold on. Unnies?"
Why are you calling them that now?
...No, wait. You've been doing that since yesterday, haven't you.
Sensing my gaze, she gave a shrug.
"I decided to enjoy myself too."
Come to think of it, you're a child of the Kell family as well, aren't you.
The completed dinner was, truly, colossal.
"Whoa..."
Cheese bread topped with bacon, my favorite cream soup, pumpkin pies the size of a grown man's head — as if that weren't enough — and, on top of it all, my mother's special chicken cutlets...
Even for a table of seven, the sheer volume was enough to inspire genuine dread.
"Come, come, everyone eat up. A splendid day calls for a splendid meal."
The moment Miriam gave the signal, everyone dove into the food at once.
Not a single one of them had eaten anything since departing the Southern Border, after all.
I was some distance into a mindless eating frenzy when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Oppa. Hey, oppa."
It was Noah.
She held out a piece of beautifully golden, perfectly baked cheese bread in front of me.
"Try this. Eat it and give me your verdict."
Did I have any reason to refuse?
One bite.
Gently melting cheese, bread that yielded softly beneath it, and crisp, smoky bacon on top.
I could hardly help but be impressed.
I spoke with complete sincerity.
"Mmmf... honestly, much as it pains me to say it to Hannah's face, this is the best bread I've ever eaten."
But the response didn't come from Noah. It came from across the table.
"Really!?"
From Erzena.
Her golden eyes blazing like twin suns, she shot up from her seat.
For an instant, the divine power she kept so carefully suppressed burst clean out of her — then snuffed itself back down in the space of a breath.
An unmistakable display of pure joy.
"E-Erzena?"
"Ah, s-sorry. I'm so sorry..."
Scarlet to the ears, she scrambled back into her seat and buried her face.
"Heheheh... then how about this one?"
Wearing the smile of a very cunning little devil, Noah now slid the cream soup toward me.
Ah, yes. This one I simply cannot resist.
Was it not my single favorite food in all the world?
I took the whole bowl in one gulp.
Hot, silky cream sliding down my throat — and within it, tender little potatoes and bits of meat.
The flavor was so fine it was damn near perfection.
"...I am grateful to be alive."
"What are you even saying."
"It's absurdly delicious."
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I nodded with the deepest satisfaction.
"Uuuu..."
Barely had the words left my mouth before Elaine began twisting and writhing in her seat.
— RRRRRRRUMBLE.
At the same moment, the entire house began to shake.
"What the—? An earthquake?"
"E-Elaine! If the house comes down it'll be a genuine catastrophe...!"
My startled parents, and Erzena, hurriedly seizing Elaine's shoulders and whispering something urgent to her.
Thankfully, in less than five seconds, the tremor subsided.
And then, the final round...
"Oppa. Would you like a slice of pumpkin pie?"
The traditional dish of my family, and the undisputed champion of calorie content.
At the same time, Mnassil — who had been eating with her face practically buried in her plate — froze, snapped her head up, and stared straight at me.
One bite.
"...It tastes exactly like it did four years ago. It's really, really good."
How was it that every single one of these dishes was flawless?
This time, Mnassil beamed a smile of the most profound, most total satisfaction.
"Did you hear that, Kirba? Your father... er, your guardian says it's delicious."
The egg wobbled so furiously it very nearly took flight.
And Noah, who had watched every last one of these exchanges, flashed a sly grin.
"Now, then."
"Hm?"
"Which one was the best?"
The cunning little devil posed her final question.
At the same moment, golden eyes, red-speckled focus, and emerald eyes all turned toward me.
Every single pair of them gleaming with thinly veiled expectation.
"Ah."
Only now did I understand.
Why they had all reacted so violently, so desperately, to my verdicts.
They hadn't been helping my mother at all.
They cooked these dishes themselves!
A memory flashed through my mind — the words my mother had spoken earlier.
— When they heard they'd be cooking for you after so long away, they all threw themselves into it like that, you see?
They hadn't come to assist. They'd come to compete.
Oh, merciful heavens.
That's why they'd been hanging on my every assessment so precariously.
And now I was expected to rank them. Establish a comparative hierarchy.
"Th-the thing is..."
"Rank them in order. First through third."
I was dead.
That accursed woman had laid a trap and I had walked straight into it.
I racked my brain with everything I had.
What was the optimal move here?
And roughly two seconds later,
as fast as I possibly could, I crammed a bite of every single dish into my mouth at once and bellowed:
"DINNER TONIGHT WAS ALL DELICIOUS!"
And so I was forced to shovel down two and a half times my usual portion, right there on the spot.
That was my best move.
How is anyone supposed to choose?
I can't handle it.
Some twenty minutes later.
"Hnngh... hah..."
Fighting for my very survival, I was gasping for air.
Was this some newly invented form of torture?
Stuffing a person's stomach with food to its absolute limit — it was luxurious and excruciating in equal measure.
Not that I'd devoured all of it alone.
"O-oppaa... I'm gonna dwe... can't... breathe..."
Noah, now sporting a belly every bit as swollen as mine, lay groaning beside me.
That wretched little sister.
I couldn't be the only one to die, so I'd dragged her over, forced her into a seat, and made her eat exactly as much as I did.
Thanks to which, the two of us siblings now lay face-down on the table like a pair of pigs, utterly incapable of movement.
That was when it came.
"Nathan?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Won't you come take a walk with me? To help all that settle."
A lifeline had been lowered into this pit of suffering.
There was no reason on earth to refuse.
My stomach was about to burst.
"Ah, gladly—"
But it didn't take me long to realize this wasn't her true purpose at all.
Because the expression on Miriam Kell's face held not a trace of playfulness anymore.
"Son?"
Gentle as ever, and yet at the same time grave — eyes fixed steadily on me.
It was precisely the same look she'd worn four years ago, when I told her I would be an immigration officer instead of a trader.
Serious business. Or something cut from the same cloth.
"...Where shall we walk?"
"Let's stroll around the courtyard. There's something I want to talk to you about."