Where Is the Attendant's Rest?
Haeshin's sharp rebuke chilled the lobby, but Junko's face showed not the slightest sign of having been struck—only a perfect calm.
"Her Highness's grand speech does nothing to fill a stomach."
Junko hid the corner of her mouth behind a kimono sleeve and let the words slip out around a small yawn.
"For a girl whose head has stopped working because she hasn't eaten, dignity and authority are hardly what she needs right now."
Even with Haeshin's keen pressure driving straight into her, Junko brushed the gaze aside with shameless composure, tipping her head as lightly as someone receiving an ordinary morning greeting. Then she leaned abruptly across the counter toward me. The eyes that had been half-lidded only moments before were suddenly wide open, and she stared at me with a face both desperately earnest and dreamily hazy.
"So... would you not bestow upon this girl the merciful grace of that cup ramen?"
The strongest magical girl and the resort's caretaker were locked in a battle of nerves across the counter, and the thing actually at stake was cup ramen. I barely swallowed the hollow laugh the absurdity tried to drag out of me.
"Then... the place I used to work doubled as a café, so... shall I try making a snack in the kitchen?"
The words had scarcely left my mouth before Junko thrust her upper body over the counter and clasped both hands together.
"My... so you don't merely handle liquor—you possess the skill to fill an empty stomach as well? Splendid. This girl will not forget the grace of having her poverty relieved."
Her tone was as grave as if she were addressing a comrade who had saved her life on the battlefield. Just as that strangely dignified laziness was leaving me speechless, the sovereign seated with lofty poise upon a counter stool cleared her throat and inserted herself into the conversation.
"Hmph. That Our exclusive attendant should play kitchen maid for some incompetent caretaker who cannot even boil a single cup of ramen is a most displeasing affair."
Arms folded, Haeshin went on with haughty composure.
"That your skill with drink and refreshment is tolerably useful was proven just now by the Sazerac. Honey, We shall specially grant you one more opportunity to please Our palate. Know it for the honor it is, as Our attendant."
In the end, both of them were only hungry—one wrapping the complaint as begging, the other as a royal bestowal. The strongest magical girl, unable even to tear open a wrapper, and the caretaker of a secret resort who had come begging after her own staff stole her snack. Faced with a domestic helplessness that stood in inverse proportion to their overwhelming power, I simply retied the strings of my apron in silence.
The kitchen Junko led me into with her languid guidance was far larger than I had guessed from outside. Befitting a place that fed a first-class resort, a broad cooking station gleamed silver, and a wall of large refrigerators stood beside rows of expensive tableware, all neatly arranged. The kitchen itself, however, was dead quiet—literally empty.
"Didn't you say the familiars handle the cooking...?"
When I asked, staring at the vacant station, Junko leaned at an angle against one side of the counter.
"It is not lunchtime at present, you see. They scatter off somewhere to rest, and when mealtime comes they return with ghostly precision."
She nodded as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Even the familiars in charge of cooking seemed to keep rest and work divided with absolute strictness. Whether they were lazy because they took after their master, or a lazy master simply employed such familiars, I could not tell. In the end, in this enormous kitchen, the only person who could light a flame and take up a knife right now was me.
I rolled up my sleeves and opened the commercial refrigerator. Cool air drifted out over shelves packed with top-grade seafood, glossy cuts of meat, and fresh vegetables—ingredients fine enough that, had I felt like it, I could have thrown a lavish party. While I was looking through them, Junko's small, serious voice came from behind me.
"This girl greatly enjoys spicy things. If you are going to display your skill anyway, I should like a dish stimulating and fiery enough to numb the mouth. Enough to blow away every last regret over the ramen that was taken from me."
A peculiar anticipation clung to her voice in place of her usual haze. Then, from beyond the kitchen door, Haeshin's sharp voice drove straight at me.
"Do not keep Us waiting so long! Does an attendant mean to starve his king?!"
A caretaker who wanted heat, and a king bellowing to be served at once. It had been a long time since taking an order was this noisy. I let out a short sigh over the excellent ingredients and turned to the silver station, where a cold chef's knife and cutting board waited in silence.
Looking around, I found that for a kitchen managed by familiars the ingredients were sorted by type with thorough care. On one side, today's menu was written in crooked handwriting, but most of it was food that required long, careful simmering. Hardly suited to soothing two magical girls already gasping with hunger.
I opened the cabinet marked with a picture of bread at once and took out a loaf. Eggs came from the refrigerator and were beaten in a hurry; meat and cheese, minced in for flavor and fullness, went into the pan and seared fast, and the French toast was done. Next came the sauces, made to order. For Junko's portion I heaped on chili powder, hot sauce, and condensed milk, careful that the sharp heat would mingle with the milk's sweetness and not go too far. For our sovereign, who could not eat anything spicy, I poured condensed milk and syrup without stint in place of hot sauce, so she might taste a pleasant sweetness.
"I... made them as quickly as I could."
I set two plates, warm steam rising from them, on the lobby bar.
The moment Junko saw the toast glistening where red sauce and white condensed milk had tangled together, her half-lidded eyes flew wide. The scent of spicy hot sauce brushed the tip of her nose, and a bright flush of pleasure colored her face.
"My. This intense, sweet fragrance. A splendid blend that will restore this girl's lost wits in a single breath."
She did not even think of picking up a knife. Fork alone in hand, she speared a generous piece of bread and pushed it into her mouth, then let out a long, deeply satisfied breath.
Haeshin's reaction, seated across from her, was rather different. She glanced sidelong down at her own toast, soaked through with syrup and condensed milk and glittering gold.
"Hmph. Far too crude and vulgar a commoner's food to grace a king's table."
Arms folded, she snorted with lofty disdain. Her mouth fired the words, but as the sweet smell of melted cheese and syrup spread from between the slices, her gaze circled the plate and would not leave. At last she picked up fork and knife with the air of someone conceding despite herself. The movement of her hands, however, was terribly clumsy—whether because she had no life skills whatsoever, or because she had little experience cutting a dish this thick and soft. The blade kept skating along the crust.
"...It is beneath Our station to lay hands directly upon such greasy food. However, We shall specially empty the plate, taking as admirable the devotion with which Our attendant struggled to make it."
She cleared her throat once, gave up on slicing after all, tore off a reasonable piece with the fork, and brought it to her mouth. A warm morsel heavy with syrup and condensed milk slipped between her lips. The chin she had held so proudly tilted little by little downward, and the fork that had moved so awkwardly picked up speed until it was unrecognizable.
"Not bad..."
She muttered it while straining to keep her expression in check. Her mouth was full of bread, and the voice that came out had lost its usual edge, gone far softer. It did not take long for even the last piece of toast on the plate to vanish cleanly.
Junko touched her lips lightly with the tip of her tongue, as if the heat of the hot sauce still lingered there. Haeshin, forgetting even that haughty pride, stared fixedly at the trace of syrup on her fork before setting it down with care. Only after I had confirmed that peaceful scene did I reach behind my back.
"It's French toast, made Hong Kong style. Condensed milk is what sets it apart... I'm glad you enjoyed it."
The snack for two hungry magical girls was finished, so I undid my apron, meaning at last to rest in my own room. The thought that the exhausting commotion of the morning was behind me let the tension in my shoulders ease little by little.
"Attendant. We have not given permission, and yet you dare mean to set that apron down?"
Haeshin's keen gaze pinned me. Stomach filled, her dignity as king seemed to have revived. She tilted her chin at an angle and pointed in turn at her empty plate and the apron in my hand.
"Now bring tea. Fine tea leaves befitting Our station are surely stocked in this place."
The figure who, only moments ago, had been groaning because she could not even manage a proper forkful was nowhere to be seen. She waited as if it were only natural that I would bring the tea. Not a speck of intention to pour herself so much as a glass of water was visible. Junko, seated beside her, showed no thought of letting me go either.
"My... temporary bartender? You mean to abandon two magical girls and flee? Having eaten something spicy, this girl requires cold ice water to soothe her stomach. Milk would be even better."
Junko tapped her own cheek with a forefinger and smiled at her leisure.
"Do not make Us say it twice. Attendant."
Haeshin tapped the bar with her index finger—tok, tok—and the sound reached me like the second hand of a clock urging me on. One wanted tea; the other, ice water and milk. In the end, both of them were saying they would not pour a single glass with their own hands. Their overwhelming presence, and a lack of life skills more overwhelming still, pressed down on my shoulders once again.