Today's Dish: Boeuf Bourguignon
After returning to my quarters from the market, having decided on today’s menu, I immediately rolled up my sleeves. …It had been a long time. This feeling. The thrill of standing in the kitchen with an armful of quality ingredients had not changed one bit, whether in my previous life or this one.
My pent-up frustration settled into perfect calm the moment my hand closed around the knife.
“…Right. Shall we begin?”
Today’s dish was Boeuf Bourguignon. To be honest, it was less for the princess who would soon come barging in and more for myself—finally able to wield a proper knife after so long. Since I was doing it anyway, I wanted to make it right. Without regrets.
And so, the cooking began.
First came the beef. A well-chosen cut from the market, nicely threaded with tendon. I cubed it generously, then carefully patted away every trace of blood and moisture. …This part mattered. If the surface stayed damp, the meat would steam instead of sear. Only by drying it thoroughly would it form that mouthwatering brown crust the instant it kissed the heat. I seasoned it with salt and pepper as well.
In the heated pot I first rendered bacon, coaxing out its fragrant fat. Now it was time to sear the beef in that savory oil. Under no circumstances could I rush this step. Dump every piece in at once and the temperature would plummet, turning the whole thing into a boil again. So I worked in batches, giving each piece room to breathe, patiently browning every side until it reached a deep, rich mahogany.
Sssssssizzle──!!
The sound of oil leaping, of meat transforming. That deep, savory aroma flooded the entire room. Ah, yes… this smell. This sound. Before I knew it, a contented smile had curved my lips. Forgetting all thoughts of escape or princesses, I had fallen completely into the cooking.
I lifted the seared beef out, then sautéed onions, carrots, and garlic in the same pot. Those stubborn brown bits clinging to the bottom—what others might dismiss as burnt—were in truth the very soul of the dish. I added tomatoes and flour, gave them another turn, then poured in the star of the show: a generous glug of robust red wine.
Sssssssizzle──!
As the wine boiled, it lifted every last speck of fond from the pot. With a wooden spatula I scraped vigorously, dissolving every precious particle into the sauce. …This was the secret. Not wasting a single drop. That was what built the profound depth of flavor.
I returned the seared beef and bacon to the pot, added broth until it just covered the ingredients, tucked in a bouquet garni, and finally set the lid in place.
“…From here, it’s a test of patience.”
Boeuf Bourguignon was a dish that refused to be hurried. It demanded gentle heat for two hours—no, even longer—simmering patiently, relentlessly, until the once-tough meat melted at the touch of a fork and the wine had reduced into a dark, velvety essence of pure flavor.
Good things, after all, are born from time.
I gazed at the gently bubbling pot with satisfaction. The quarters were now warmly saturated with the rich, harmonious scent of wine and meat.
How long had passed? By the time the sauce had deepened to a glossy burgundy and the beef had grown so tender it threatened to fall apart at the mere approach of a fork, a knock sounded at the door.
Knock. Knock.
…She was here.
I wiped my hands on my apron and walked to the door. There was no need to ask who it was. At this hour, without prior notice, only one person in the entire empire would come looking for me.
“…You’ve arri──”
I began to greet her as I opened the door, but the words died in my throat.
“…….”
Victoria von Roseria stood exactly where I expected her. Yet she looked nothing like the woman from the market. The lovely new bride who had clung to my arm, beaming and calling me “honey, honey,” had vanished without a trace.
In her place stood an utterly imperious, ice-cold princess. Only Victoria von Roseria remained.
“…Sir Lowenheim, how much longer did you intend to keep this body waiting?”
That frigid gaze sent an involuntary chill racing down my spine.
Wait. What was this?
Only a few hours ago she had been hanging from my arm, laughing brightly and declaring, ~Honey, let’s have a cozy dinner for just the two of us tonight~. How had the same person transformed into someone who now looked ready to devour me alive?
It was clearly the same woman, yet the difference left me dizzy.
…Get a grip, Kyle.
I shook my head inwardly. I had let myself forget for a moment—enchanted by that sweet husband-and-wife charade at the market. I had forgotten exactly who she was.
The terrifying woman who, behind that bright smile, could at any time offer a bowl laced with poison. The woman who had poisoned Kyle Lowenheim in the original story.
…Yes. I must never forget again.
No matter how affectionately she behaved at the market, no matter how lovingly she smiled… a tiger was still a tiger. Hiding its claws for a moment did not turn it into a house cat.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. The dish had only just finished.”
I hastily straightened my posture and bowed with perfect deference. “Please come in. The fare is humble, but I prepared it with the utmost care.”
“…Hmph.”
Victoria snorted and stepped inside with regal, haughty strides. The moment she crossed the threshold and the rich aroma enveloped her, she froze mid-step.
I saw it clearly. That proud nose gave a tiny twitch. Her gaze, once so cold, now stole a secret glance toward the pot on the stove, following the scent like a compass needle.
The sight was so at odds with the terrifying princess who had glared at me moments ago that I nearly—nearly—let out a laugh. I had to summon every ounce of willpower to choke it back.
The instant Kyle’s face—framed by an apron—appeared in the doorway, the word “honey” had nearly tumbled from Victoria’s lips.
It was surely because the sweet “married couple” game from the market still lingered in her mind.
…W-what is this body doing right now!!
Victoria hastily swallowed the word back down. This was not the market. This was his private quarters, where the two of them were alone. There was neither reason nor excuse to play the part of a blushing bride. To thoughtlessly call him “honey”… how utterly mortifying.
She quickly wiped every trace of excitement from her face and replaced it with the familiar mask of the haughty, ice-cold imperial princess.
“…Hmph.”
She would never let it show. Not that she had almost called him honey. Not that she had been utterly defeated by him at the market. Not that her heart was still racing… None of it could be discovered.
“The fare is humble… but prepared with great care. Please, eat.”
Kyle bowed politely and guided her to the table. The moment her eyes fell on the single bowl placed before her—
“…….”
Victoria lost the ability to speak.
A deep, glossy, dark-red sauce. Generous chunks of meat nestled within it. Steam rose in delicate curls, carrying an aroma so rich and profound it seemed to pierce straight through her.
Gulp.
She swallowed involuntarily. The imperial palace had offered her every delicacy under the sun—meats dusted with gold leaf, towers of exotic fruit. Yet nothing had ever stirred this body’s appetite the way this single rustic bowl did.
“…Please, try it.”
At Kyle’s gentle prompting, Victoria lifted her fork with deliberate haughtiness. She speared a piece of the dark meat and brought it to her lips.
In that instant—
“…!”
Her eyes flew wide.
What in the world was this—?!
The meat crumbled at the slightest touch of the fork. The moment it met her tongue, it melted like snow. From within burst a profound wave of red wine that had clearly been simmered for days, wrapping her entire palate in velvet darkness.
Rich. Deep. Yet never heavy. The flavor filled her mouth so completely that Victoria felt her mind begin to drift.
“…Delicious.”
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
“…Truly delicious. How can it taste like this? How is the meat so tender? And this sauce… it’s as if it were simmered for days. Just what did you do to create something so—?”
She froze.
Only then did Victoria realize she had completely abandoned her haughty mask. She had been chattering like an excited child, eyes sparkling, heaping endless praise on the dish.
“This meat simply melts in the mouth, doesn’t it? And this aroma—”
“……Your Highness.”
“This profound depth of flavor, how on earth did you—”
“……Your Highness.”
“…Hm?”
Kyle was watching her quietly, the faintest smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
…Ah.
Only then did Victoria understand what she had been doing. The greatest princess of the empire had forgotten all dignity over a single bowl of food and was making a childish fuss. After acting so imperious only moments before.
“……!!”
Her face flushed scarlet in an instant.
H-how embarrassing… this body has done it again…
Victoria hastily set down her fork and clamped her lips shut. To hide her burning cheeks she coughed awkwardly, over and over.
“…Ahem. Ahem.”
A brief, heavy silence fell.
At last Victoria gathered her dignity, adopting a prim expression. Yet she could not hide the crimson tips of her ears, nor the way her hand unconsciously drifted back toward the fork.
“…Y-yes.”
After another theatrical cough, she spoke in a deliberately arrogant tone.
“…Well. It is… passable. Quite passable, Sir Lowenheim. It seems to suit this body’s palate adequately.”
“I am truly glad to hear it suits Your Highness’s taste.”
“…E-eat, you as well. It feels wrong to make you watch me eat alone…”
Victoria pretended to be concerned for his portion, turning her flushed face slightly away. Then she murmured, almost too quietly to hear.
“…Before long.”
“With skill of this caliber, this body may soon have to grant you a suitable reward.”
“A reward, Your Highness?”
“Indeed. Having been served such a delicious meal… yes.”
Victoria nodded with exaggerated dignity while piercing another piece of meat with her fork.
“…Therefore, continue to refine that skill until then.”
Of course, the so-called “reward” was nothing more than a transparent excuse. In truth, she simply wanted to keep receiving bowls like this from him in the future.
Victoria would rather die than admit it aloud.