Chapter 14
Chapter 14
First Meeting (13)
A small hut in an ordinary countryside village.
As I opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of wood and gentle warmth welcomed me.
The savory smell of soup.
A comforting, familiar aroma filled the living room.
"I’m back."
"Oh my, Ian, you’re home?"
My father hurried out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a cloth as he checked my face.
His son had gone off to be tortured by a noble lady, so of course he must have been worried.
But in his eyes, there was something more than concern—something like pride.
"I heard. You’re going to the capital with the young lady?"
"...News really travels fast."
"Half the village found out when Kara showed up in the square swinging a hammer and arguing with her."
"You must’ve had a hard time at the duke’s mansion."
From behind him, my mother—who had been quietly reading a book on a rough wooden chair—looked at me over her glasses.
Yes. I almost died halfway through.
I simply nodded.
"Ian, I heard the Duchess offered to sponsor your academy studies."
"Yes. That’s how it turned out. I’m planning to just go and quietly draw."
"Are you really going?"
"Yes, Mother. I couldn’t refuse the sponsorship, and... I also want to see a bigger world."
"Don’t push yourself too hard. If it becomes difficult, you can always come back."
Thank you, Mom.
Her words were simple, but full of affection.
I smiled faintly.
Back in my room, I pulled out an old leather bag from under the bed and began packing.
Though “packing” was a generous term.
All I really had to bring were a few worn sketchbooks and pencils.
Knock, knock.
"Ian, may I come in?"
My mother sat beside me and quietly watched as I packed my old brushes and sketchbooks.
Then she handed me a small worn box.
"This isn’t exactly a family heirloom... just some art tools I used when I was younger. They should still be useful."
"Thank you, Mother."
My father, who had come in without me noticing, was already sniffling as he neatly folded my clothes.
"Ian, make sure you eat properly. The capital is colder than here, so don’t forget to bring warm underclothes."
"Yes, Father."
"And..."
He suddenly grabbed my hand tightly.
"This is something the villagers prepared for you. You have to take it."
Dried earthworm jerky.
A childhood snack from the village.
It was covered in sugar, making it surprisingly tasty.
"If your energy drops while drawing, eat this."
"...Dad. Thank you."
"Oh? It’s been a while since you called me that."
"I just... felt like it. Dad."
He ruffled my hair roughly.
It was a crude gesture, but warm—just like the hands that had once held me in that rainy alley years ago.
"Ian, we’re always on your side. So don’t worry, and go do everything you want."
Thank you.
Dad. Mom.
I nodded, wiping away the tears before they could fall.
The day of the farewell party arrived.
From early morning, the village square was buzzing with excitement.
Even the cats, who usually spent their days lazily napping, seemed alert today.
In the center of the square, large cauldrons were lined up, and colorful flags fluttered above.
"Alright, everyone! Today’s main character is Ian!"
The village head raised a beer mug, and cheers erupted.
On one side, chefs from the duke’s household stood in white hats, radiating authority.
"Hmph, did you think we’d prepare carelessly just because it’s a rural feast? This is food for Ian before he leaves for the capital. We’ll show you the refined taste of a duke’s household."
Yuki declared proudly, arms crossed, with high-quality ingredients stacked behind her.
But Kara, representing the village, scoffed and swung a giant ladle over her shoulder.
"Refined? Don’t underestimate us, my lady! We know Ian’s taste best! Today—no eel this time! We’ll win with honey raspberry roast pork, his favorite!"
The village women cheered.
So she knew eel was bad this whole time.
This girl...
"That’s right! Ian needs something sweet and tender, not that fishy stuff!"
And so began the First Ian Farewell Cooking Competition.
I sat in the center of the square on a decorated chair labeled “Ian’s Seat,” watching blankly.
My neck already ached from the flower garlands children had hung on me.
"Ian oppa, eat this and beat up all the capital girls!"
"...I’m going to study, not fight."
Ignoring the terrifying encouragement from a seven-year-old, the cooking battle intensified.
On the left, the duke’s chefs.
They performed a flashy fire show while preparing a traditional beef stew.
Yuki stood beside them, giving absurd instructions.
"Cut the meat smaller! Ian might bite his tongue!"
On the right, Team Ian Protection Squad.
Kara and Millie brought in a massive boar leg and started coating it with honey and raspberries.
"More raspberry juice, Millie! It has to feel like a spring garden in his mouth!"
"Got it! I’m covering every inch!"
Even before the main dishes were done, food kept piling up in front of me.
"Ian! Try this roasted corn!"
"Ian, this steamed egg is made from eggs laid this morning!"
I forced a smile and took bite after bite.
Refusing wasn’t an option here.
Then Yuki approached, wiping sweat from her forehead, holding a plate.
"It’s done, Ian. The pride of the duke’s house—‘Imperial Cream Sauce Beef Stew.’ I... even washed the cucumbers myself."
There were crushed cucumber pieces mixed into the rich stew.
"My lady... since when do beef stews include cucumbers?"
"It’s an original recipe! Made with my sincerity!"
Her eyes sparkled.
Just as I picked up my fork—
Kara barged in with the entire roasted boar leg.
"Move aside! That greasy food is an insult to Ian’s stomach! Here—‘Honey Raspberry Whole Roast Boar!’"
Kara... I saw you marinate that for one hour, not seventy-two.
Both women shoved their dishes toward me.
"Which will you eat first, Ian?"
"Of course you’ll choose the village’s dish, right?"
Sparks seemed to fly between them.
The entire square fell silent.
Everyone waited for my decision.
I looked at both dishes.
Then—
I grabbed both of their hands.
"Why don’t you try each other’s cooking first? If you acknowledge each other, I’ll eat."
Their eyes widened.
"You want me to eat that?"
"And me that greasy thing?"
But their competitive spirits flared.
"Fine! I’ll prove how bad it is!"
"Me too!"
They both took bites.
Silence.
Then—
"...Why is this good? The raspberry cuts the fat perfectly..."
"...This sauce is so smooth... we don’t have flavors like this in the village..."
Cheers erupted.
The competition turned into a shared feast.
Yuki handed stew to children with a shy smile.
Kara taught the chefs how to butcher a boar.
I quietly sketched the scene.
A memory I wouldn’t see again.
Later that night—
Knock, knock.
After the party, someone knocked on my door.
It was Yuki.
She was in her usual riding clothes, but in her hand was a small silk pouch.
"Packed everything?"
"I don’t have much to bring."
She handed me the pouch.
Inside was a small silver whistle engraved with the Castel emblem.
"What’s this?"
"Something like protection. If anything happens at the academy, blow it. I’ll come no matter where I am."
"Will the sound even reach you?"
"It doesn’t rely on sound. It tracks your position with mana. So don’t lose it."
She stepped closer to hang it around my neck.
Her breath brushed against me.
Her fingers grazed my collarbone.
Her eyes wavered.
"My lady. Third condition."
"I-it’s just the string! Don’t misunderstand!"
Flustered, she stepped back.
But her gaze lingered on my chest.
"Hmph. Be grateful. Noble ladies in the capital aren’t as ladylike as I am."
"It seems the definition of ‘ladylike’ is different there."
"...It’s not!"