Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Duke's Visit (3)
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The Empire was simply the Empire, with no other descriptors. It was a declaration of intent not to recognize any other empires besides itself.
Yet even if the Empire wished otherwise, other nations that called themselves empires had arisen in the world.
And since it couldn't suppress them all, in the end, multiple empires came into being.
Thus, to distinguish it, the world began referring to the Empire without qualifiers as the "Human Empire."
The Human Empire—of humans, by humans, for humans.
So Cynthia Frey, freshly arrived in the capital from the countryside of the Human Empire, felt pure terror upon encountering a non-human race for the first time.
"E-elf...!"
Cynthia's eyes blinked rapidly. Sweat slicked her palms, which she rubbed against her knees, but those knees had already begun trembling uncontrollably.
Do bad things together? Bad things suggested by an elf?
Horrific scenes flashed through Cynthia's mind: kidnappings, city sieges, civilization's collapse, massacres of prisoners...
"Ah~"
Eleonora covered her ears again.
In the Empire, the odds of her suffering harm simply for being an elf were practically nil.
But there was always the chance she'd unintentionally cause harm, like right now, so she made a habit of hiding her ears in public.
"What on earth do you think I'm suggesting we do, Tia?"
"W-whatever it is... it doesn't matter..."
Cynthia muttered in a stiff voice.
"I'm not doing anything bad. No matter what."
Especially if it's something an elf suggests, she added silently to herself.
"Oh? Well, nothing to be done then~"
Eleonora let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Guess I'll have to order a whole chocolate cake and eat it all myself until I'm stuffed."
"......Huh?"
"Waiter~ Could you take our order~?"
Only then did Cynthia realize she'd been dancing in the palm of Eleonora's hand from start to finish. Her face flushed crimson with embarrassment.
Perhaps due to her temperament, Cynthia—despite her rural roots—had fair, delicate skin. The blush spreading across it made for quite the sight.
An awkward, embarrassed silence fell over Cynthia alone.
Moments later, the waitress arrived bearing not a slice, but an entire massive chocolate cake—accompanied by steaming hot tea to pair with it.
Eleonora pushed aside the cake-cutting knife.
And simply stabbed a fork straight into the cake.
Without slicing it!
Right into the whole cake!
"Mmm~ This shop's cake is as delicious as ever!"
And then another stab with the fork!
Eating a whole cake like this—it was downright devilish!
"Gulp..."
Drool nearly trickled from Cynthia's lips, but she barely managed to swallow it back.
"Ah~ I really can't finish it alone~ Should I toss the rest?"
Toss it?
A barely touched whole cake?
Cynthia's mind split in two.
1. No way she'd actually throw it out, right? She's obviously just teasing me again. I just fell for it.
2. Goddess! What blasphemy is this! Aaaaaah!
"Y-you think I'll fall for it? I absolutely won't! Hmph!"
"...You're so cute. Wanna try calling me 'Mommy'?"
Cynthia straightened up without thinking.
"Pardon?"
Eleonora cleared her throat awkwardly.
"—You're just too adorable; I can't help it! Wanna help me polish off this cake?"
"...No choice, I guess."
Cynthia reluctantly—truly, utterly reluctantly—stabbed her fork into the opposite rounded side of the whole cake.
It felt like she was committing some tremendous sin.
A chilling thrill crawled up her spine.
Cynthia experienced the sensation of taboo long before she even knew the word for it.
And as the chocolate cake melted in her mouth—rich, sticky sweetness mingling with deep cocoa notes—her expression slackened in perfect sync, going utterly blank.
"Hweee..."
"Tasty?"
"Yesss...!"
"Ehehe, so cute, ho, ho, how about 'Mo—'"
Thwack.
"Ow!"
"I told you to show some restraint. This is all gonna be your black history later, you know?"
A voice both nostalgic and familiar.
"Teacher!"
Cynthia's cry blended joy at his return with a touch of petulant resentment: What if you two had ditched me?
"Sorry. Had to grab a few things."
From there, the teacher and Eleonora chatted for a bit. Cynthia couldn't follow despite sitting right there—too many unfamiliar terms and proper nouns.
And sooner than Cynthia expected, he stood.
"Sorry. Got a ditzy young lady waiting."
"C'mon, for you, Artie, that's a long time~"
"Sorry."
In the end, they couldn't finish the whole cake, so they packed up the remnants. They sliced away the nibbled sections on both sides to hide the damage.
"Thanks for today, Ellen."
"Ehehe~ I'll collect interest next time, so brace yourself~!"
"Start settling old scores, and you'd be the one in the red."
"Urk...! F-fine! See you next time!"
"See you."
"Ah, goodbye!"
On the way back after bidding Eleonora farewell, the teacher said to her,
"Miss Cynthia, do you see that lady over there?"
"The noblewoman in the coat?"
"That's Countess Saint Mirkelt."
"...Yes."
And? Cynthia waited with a look that said exactly that. So what about that noble?
The teacher smiled.
"Not so scary anymore, seeing nobles around, right?"
"...Ah!?"
Cynthia realized why he'd introduced her to an elf.
Indeed.
She'd met an elf—far more dangerous than your average noble—chatted across the table, endured teasing, shared chocolate cake. Even committed a "crime" together.
Her fear of elves had plummeted. Ordinary nobles barely registered by comparison.
"...I had no idea elves were like that."
"Sorry your first elf was someone like her."
Cynthia raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't all elves like that?"
"...Do you know about elven lifespans?"
"About ten times humans', I heard."
"Correct. So, how old do you think Ellen is?"
"Hmm..."
Cynthia pondered seriously.
Her speech was a tad archaic, her clothes too. She'd spoken of that coffee shop like it had been ages since her last visit.
Maybe a shop she'd frequented since her great-grand-something's era? Checking if the handed-down recipes stayed true.
And she was a bit eccentric but kind too... so maybe...
"300... or so?"
"The answer is 37."
"...Pardon? Thirty-seven?"
"Yes. Thirty-seven. Samshipchil."
It was... a strikingly realistic number.
"Elves marry and have children around the same age as humans, too. Their fertility declines similarly."
"Teacher."
Cynthia just wanted him to stop. She could guess where this was going.
"And Eleonora... is 37 and unmarried."
"Ah."
Cynthia squeezed her eyes shut.
Images surfaced of older childless women fixating on nieces, nephews, or cute animals to fill the void.
"...Are all unmarried elves like that?"
"Around 60 to 70, both men and women lose fertility, and that's when they start gaining true wisdom."
"...Ah."
Cynthia sighed shortly.
It felt like she'd learned knowledge she shouldn't have.
'Come to think of it, I still don't know the teacher's real name...'
What names shorten to Artie, again?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Back home, the young lady awaited in the drawing room.
"You're late!"
"Have some chocolate cake."
"You think that'll appease my anger right now!? Serve it up on a plate at once, with milk!"
She complied without protest, and Tiona snatched up the fork with a grin, as if her fury had been a mere fib.
"Young Lady."
She froze.
"Wh-what? I-I'm holding the fork right, aren't I?"
"The Duke arrives in three days. Care to diligently practice etiquette in the meantime?"
This wasn't something to force on her. It had little to do with getting her into the Academy, after all.
It was an offer to help, if she wished.
Tiona admired her father the Duke and craved his approval.
And the simplest way to show him she'd improved? Demonstrate markedly refined noble etiquette.
"His Grace...?"
Tiona echoed his words softly, gazing down at her fork.
Then gripped it tightly.