The Doll Princess of Hildeburg
In the Hildeburg Territory, Princess Rosaria was living in the family's annex. The marriage arrangement with the Enstark family had been set three months ago. Ever since her fiancé was decided, she'd been moved to the annex to receive special care from the household.
"Princess, what would you like for breakfast?"
The head maid approached and asked Rosaria.
Rosaria nodded quietly.
"At least a bite would be better for you, wouldn't it?"
"……."
"……Understood."
The head maid withdrew, her face etched with clear worry. There had been a time when, on the duke's orders, they'd tried to force-feed the princess half-coercively. But Rosaria had vomited up every bit of food that touched her lips, and her condition had only worsened, so they'd stopped trying.
Among the mansion's servants, rumors about Princess Rosaria had been swirling lately. These were stories never voiced openly, shared only in whispers among themselves within the estate's walls. And some even carried an ominous prediction: that at this rate, she wouldn't last much longer—she'd have a funeral before she could even reach her wedding day.
"……Could everyone please leave for a bit?"
Princess Rosaria sent all the servants out of the room. Then she recalled her recent visit to Misikdang Slow.
The chef there was truly peculiar. Even with a duke's daughter like her right in front of him, his words held no restraint. He hadn't flinched at young Lord Hirel's threats. Klaus, was it? The restaurant he ran was a form she'd never seen before. Famous establishments usually operated on a grand scale in bustling districts, but his was in a spot you had to traverse a treacherous path to reach. It felt refreshingly novel, almost like a challenge: If you can make it here, then come.
Indeed, when Rosaria had visited, they'd had to replace the carriage wheels multiple times. Her brother, who'd gone first, had ordered extra spares—far more than usual—and though she hadn't known why at the time, it became obvious once she saw the road herself.
A restaurant so difficult to reach that only someone with real determination would bother. Yet one that would make anything a guest desired.
—I'll order the freedom of an adventurer.
That had been Rosaria's request. Even now, she couldn't fathom why such an absurd order had slipped from her lips.
But what was even more incomprehensible was that the chef had accepted it outright.
She'd heard the basics about him from Lord Hirel. A former mage and adventurer, and for some reason, apparently friends with the hero Irit. In the carriage, Hirel had grumbled that if the man hadn't been the hero's acquaintance, he wouldn't have let it slide.
"Haa……."
Rosaria let out a deep sigh.
Life as a princess was one of abundance, the epitome of wealthy high society. But in all her years in this house, she'd never truly decided anything for herself. If told to learn dance, she danced. If commanded to attend a ball, she went. Even waving and smiling to the territory's people at grand events in the Royal Capital Elgraf—those were all orders from above.
This marriage decision was no different—a pure family arrangement, her own will entirely ignored. Her partner was Hans from the Enstark family. Rosaria had met him once, at a family event. Tall, with sharp, slitted eyes and a pointed chin, he reeked of arrogance. The Enstark house was a ducal family rivaling the Hildeburgs in stature, and gazing at her fiancé, she'd thought he shared many traits with her brother Hirel.
He exaggerated everything about himself with boasts, and he leered openly at the cleavage and legs peeking from her dress, his desires plain. Honestly, aside from coming from a good family, he had no gravitas as a man—just a pathetic little creep.
And with that man…… next month, she'd be married.
She hated it. Rosaria truly, deeply hated the idea of marrying him.
Klaus had been right. More than anyone, she knew exactly why she couldn't stomach a single bite of food. Every passing day was agony, a hellish torment. She wished each moment would drag on eternally, yet the date of her wedding to that creep marched inexorably closer, crushing her.
But it was all for the family. For her father who'd raised her, for the house's revival. That was a princess's role…… She tried desperately to convince herself.
Defying the family's will felt like an impossibly heavy burden. By comparison, simply not liking her fiancé seemed like petty whining.
That's how Rosaria had been raised. Like a pretty flower cultivated from the start to be given away. Without marrying into a fine house, her very existence lost value—a life mostly spent for the family's glory.
—At the very least, here in this restaurant, choose with your own will, Princess.
The chef Klaus's words lingered in her ears.
A princess's life was an endless bore. Called the "Doll Princess" by all, praised for her beauty—but truthfully, Rosaria hated the nickname. It felt less like a compliment on her doll-like perfection and more like a jab at her lack of agency.
A Doll Princess had to always be flawlessly beautiful. For the Hildeburg revival, to marry into another great house and elevate the name. In that atmosphere, her one sole amusement had been reading.
She especially loved adventure tales of free wanderers roaming the world, biographies of ancient heroes, firsthand accounts from adventurers. The protagonists went where they pleased, endured hardships, met new faces, lived unbound. Reading them gave Rosaria a strange vicarious thrill. Amid suffocating days, a fresh adventure story made her heart race and flutter.
But once she closed the final page, there she was: still a caged bird, groomed by the family. Born a princess, she couldn't defy them—so books were her only outlet for yearning freedom.
But…….
—Next time, come alone. Without telling a soul. Then I'll let you taste the dish you ordered.
To her nonsensical demand for "adventurer-like freedom," Chef Klaus had replied without hesitation.
Rosaria wondered. If she went alone to that restaurant, how exactly would he deliver on her order? With her body rejecting all food over the marriage woes, he'd spoken with utter confidence.
It was bizarre. She knew it made no sense, yet the urge to return and follow his words grew stronger with time.
Mere curiosity? Or expectation because he knew the hero Irit?
Rosaria didn't know. But her heart was already leaning one way.
"Manager~ Manager~"
"What."
"Hamburger steak for dinner tonight."
"Huh?"
"Can't you make it for meee~?"
A peaceful afternoon at Misikdang Slow. The seaweed-ghost Aris was shamelessly twisting in front of me, playing cute to beg.
She used to eat whatever I gave her, but lately she'd started demanding specifics. Not that it's anything fancy, so making it isn't hard…… but still. She started as a waitress to repay her dine-and-dash with labor, so picking the menu feels cheeky.
"What foods can't you eat?"
"Huh? Foods I can't eat?"
"Y'know, stuff that makes you sick or you just hate."
"I don't really picky-eat anything humans can."
"Haa… Got it."
I'd planned to make something she hates all fancy-like for payback, but nope.
Ghost with a bottomless appetite…….
"But that princess…… is she okay?"
Aris asked out of the blue.
"Why're you asking about her?"
"Just…… her complexion was almost as pale as mine, so it kinda worried me."
"If a living person's as pale as a ghost like you, that's bad news."
"But you said it yourself, honestly."
True, the Doll Princess had been deathly pale.
"What do you think?"
I'd already decided in my head, but I asked anyway, curious about Aris's take.
"Hmm…… Dunno. Will she really come back?"
"She will."
"Eh, you're that sure?"
"Not sure, exactly…… call it a hunch."
Princess Rosaria's order to me: adventurer-like freedom.
Honestly, when I first heard it, even I was shocked. A sheltered duke's daughter craving not just freedom, but an adventurer's freedom? Adventuring looks free-spirited on the surface, sure, but try it and it's a road of pure suffering.
Wonder what sparked that longing.
"Anyway, I've prepped everything in case she returns."
After all, I'm the owner of a restaurant that makes anything a guest wants. Order placed, preparations done.
That was when it happened.
Ding-a-ling— Ding-a-ling— The shop door opened, and the bell chimed.