A Chilling Start to the Morning
"Come here, Elden. If you can't avoid it, enjoy it. That's what you always used to tell me, isn't it?"
"Hahaha! From this moment on, you're just going to take it. Exactly the way I did."
"How does it feel? Hurts when you're the one getting hit, doesn't it? Don't even think of running. We are husband and wife bound by heaven itself, after all."
I bolted upright.
That, in summary, was how this morning began.
The cursed letter I had sealed under a cross must have been remarkably potent. Merely brushing past the thing had been enough to gift me a nightmare like that. Of course it was pure nonsense, an absurd dream with no claim on reality—but it was more than enough to set my resolve to escape blazing all over again.
My odds of marrying the heroine were already converging on zero, and the escape route would open wide enough even if I simply sat still and did nothing. Still.
"Ugh."
In any case, it was a thoroughly chilling morning. I stood by the window, glancing at the spot where I had laid the reincarnation-prevention seal the night before, and gave an involuntary shudder of the shoulders before starting my preparations for the evaluation match.
I washed up thoroughly, then sank onto the sofa in the study as if collapsing into it. I propped my legs up on the table, crossed at the ankles. I hummed a little tune under my breath. I opened a book. I grinned as I read.
That was a forfeiter's idea of preparing for an evaluation match.
Training body and mind for a thoroughly pointless contest would have been an insult to the sacred art of forfeiting. All that was required was to play along just enough to keep everyone happy, and then show up just enough to be presentable.
And so I spent a leisurely morning immersed in reading until the departure hour drew near—something I only realized when a knock sounded at the door.
Knock, knock.
"Already that time, is it? Come in."
Old butler Rendler would have come to hurry his dawdling young master out the door. Right on cue, Rendler opened the door, stepped inside, and bowed his head.
"Young Master."
"I've been waiting. Let's go."
"You have a guest waiting for you, sir."
"What?"
"They said there was something they simply had to tell you before the evaluation match began."
A visitor first thing in the morning—who on earth? I asked as I took the fur coat Rendler held out and shrugged into it.
"And who might this morning caller be?"
But the tearful old butler was already looking at me again with that blend of fondness, emotion, and pure sentimental overwhelm. His eyes glistened, damp with feeling.
"…Not again."
"This humble servant believes that, of all the mornings I have served you, Young Master, today may well be the happiest."
"What are you going on about this time?"
Aside from family, entry to the annex was strictly forbidden; only the hosts of the marriage tournament had clearance. So it couldn't be Lumiang or Gelwood. And even if it had been them, their visit would hardly have made for a "happy morning" in the old butler's book.
Rendler wiped under his nose with a quivering finger, eyes still misty.
"In all my years serving you, Young Master, this is the first time I have ever heard someone answer a question of identity by introducing themselves as your friend. This humble servant is truly overjoyed today."
…Must be nice, having so many things to be happy about, old man.
I had a feeling this sort of thing would keep happening. Maybe I ought to commit a few moderate villainies now and then, just so he wouldn't die of pure happiness in his old age.
"A friend?"
"A most adorable and lovely young lady, at that."
"…A young lady?"
Adorable and lovely. The grand duchy was crawling with such girls, but among those who might come looking for me, Ariel was the obvious answer. Objectively speaking, the golden-haired young lady with the rolled buns was indeed adorable and lovely—except that at this hour she ought to have been in the library. And knowing I was a forfeiter, Ariel had no reason to show up just to deliver meaningless cheer.
Still puzzling over it, I headed for the annex entrance with Rendler—and found myself face to face with her.
"Ariel?"
"Ah, Elden!"
She broke into a bright smile and came scampering toward me. The book she had borrowed yesterday was still hugged to her chest; clearly she hadn't even stopped by the library. So the bookworm who belonged among the shelves had come here instead, at this hour, claiming she had something she simply had to say before the evaluation match.
"What's going on? If it's important enough for the reading maniac herself to skip the library, it must be quite the story."
"Mm-hm! It's a really, really big story."
Grinning. Judging by the smile she couldn't quite suppress, it didn't look like bad news, at least…
"Ear. Your ear."
Ariel gestured for me to lean in. I bent down and offered her my ear; she covered her mouth with one hand and whispered something that recreated this morning's nightmare with perfect fidelity.
"I ran into Erincia last night. She said Her Highness the Third Grand Duchess actually hopes to marry you. So she asked me to tell you—please don't forfeit. Give it everything you've got."
…
…
…
…
…
Hmm.
A thoroughly chilling morning indeed.
"Fighting—! Elden!"
"Please take care of yourself, Young Master."
I climbed into the carriage under the dual send-off of Ariel, cheerfully raining curses upon me with a brightly clenched fist, and Rendler, who looked between the two of us with a thoroughly contented smile.
A morning where misunderstanding piled on top of misunderstanding if ever there was one.
Still… it seems the heroine has been running herself ragged.
I could practically see Lumiang fretting herself into knots over how to keep the forfeiter in the fight. First the confession note she didn't mean a word of, meant as encouragement—and now a midnight visit in the guise of Erincia, asking Ariel to pass along persuasion and cheer. There was no way to announce that an otherworldly alien named Lee Junuw had taken over this body; if anything, they'd only accuse me of deception and double down. All I could do was enjoy the situation as it stood, dodge, and look the other way.
Just like now—while reading the Monster Cuisine Encyclopedia.
"Ooh, Drake Tail Salad… Rachel? Have you ever tried it?"
Rachel was riding with me in the carriage bound for the northern snow mountains where the evaluation match would be held. Drake Tail Salad—just the name was enough to make my mouth water to the point of insanity. I asked her for the sake of a little secondhand satisfaction, half-hoping that she, who had loved monster cuisine since childhood and wandered the kingdom for her training, might have tasted it herself.
"Yes."
Oh!
"Then would you tell me what it tastes like?"
"It was delicious."
"……."
Right. The disciple was the fool for expecting rich flavor notes from his blunt swordmaster of a teacher.
As expected, the only real answer was to eat every single dish in this encyclopedia myself. With that settled, I went back to reading—only to have to look up again at Rachel's next question.
"Still, why bother with training if your goal is a gastronomy expedition?"
"…Already sick of it before we've even started, are you?"
"If safe travel is the aim, hiring mercenaries would be far more practical. That was the thought behind the question."
Of course, if the only goal were getting from place to place, training would be unnecessary. Even a declining baronial house had enough funds for a gastronomy tour; hire some mercenaries and secure a safe route, and that would be that. One could travel in perfect safety and sample each city's specialty delicacies. But for me, a gastronomy expedition was never something that simple or ordinary.
It was a gastronomy expedition with the adventure and romance no medieval fantasy was complete without—and a journey in search of the absolute peak of freshness in a medieval world where preserving ingredients was a fragile art at best.
And so, gazing out the window at the snowy landscape stretching endlessly past the glass, I answered her.
"No matter how good a restaurant is, it can never beat the taste of a fish you caught with your own hands out at sea and sliced up yourself."
"…You mean to hunt the monsters yourself?"
"Of course. Nothing is fresher than a monster you just brought down."
"So you're willing to risk danger for the sake of flavor."
"Exactly."
I snapped my fingers and gave her a nod.
"However, Young Master—I have never once seen you cook."
"A remarkably sharp observation."
"…."
I was still thinking that part over. Whether to hire a professional, or try cooking myself using my modern memories. Back when I was a lonely young man with nothing to his name, delivery food had been a luxury; I'd scraped by on meals barely flavored with every seasoning I could get my hands on, just to save on food costs. I had considered transplanting that experience here—but it was hopeless. There were no modern seasonings to be found, and with the poor tools and techniques of this world, recreating those flavors was nearly impossible. Modern memory and method meant nothing here.
I had thought about learning to cook properly, but a mongrel who already split every day between delicious reading and brutal training simply didn't have the hours. Cooking skill wasn't something that sprang fully formed overnight, either.
It was a difficult situation all around—but I had already told old butler Rendler to look into hiring an expert, so word should come before long. For now, I decided to set the matter aside.
Screech.
The carriage that had been racing across the dazzling snowfield finally came to a stop.
This was the evaluation match from the last free chapter of the original novel. On the surface, the match described in the original had been a "hunting tournament"—and yet, strangely enough, the heroine had called it a game of "tag." No reason was ever given, and since it had been the final free chapter, I had never gotten to read what came after. Whatever it turned out to be, I had no need to worry or tense up—but I was curious all the same. Curious why the hunting tournament's true face was a game of tag.
"Then I shall wait here."
"Right."
I stepped down from the carriage under Rachel's send-off and began climbing the snow mountain, that curiosity still turning quietly in my mind.