The Bakery Girl (1)
I rose early that morning and set about boiling potatoes and eggs, then started making mayonnaise from scratch.
The bakery I’d stopped by yesterday had loaded me down with leftover bread, so from today on I planned to stretch our meals with sandwiches.
Homemade mayonnaise was simple enough. You just whisked egg yolks with vinegar or lemon juice while slowly drizzling in oil. Lemons were easy to find at the market, so I usually went with lemon juice.
Clink, clink…
Once it had thickened properly I stirred in a pinch of salt. The finished mayonnaise would keep at room temperature for about a week. It was a deeper yellow than the store-bought kind back home, but the taste was far better.
I chopped the boiled eggs and potatoes along with cucumber and onion.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The knife rang cheerfully against the cutting board. Cooking was one thing I was confident about. This world had neither sandwiches nor mayonnaise, yet drawing on old memories I could whip something up that tasted better than anything sold outside.
I mixed the mayonnaise with the chopped fillings. The free bread from the bakery wasn’t bad, but by modern standards it was coarse and plain—no additives to give it any real flavor. People here ate bread as a staple, so the idea of stuffing it with jam or fillings simply didn’t exist.
“You’re making sandwiches? Those look so good.”
Pana snatched a piece I’d already cut and popped it into her mouth, chewing with little contented noises. The sight was so endearing I couldn’t help a soft laugh. At the same time the guilt over the hospital bills that had driven us into poverty twisted inside me, making it hard to face her easily. Still, at least we’d scored a mountain of free bread—that had to count for something. Meat was expensive, but eggs, potatoes, and onions were cheap. If I could keep bringing bread home, it would be a real help.
Pana stared at me blankly for a moment, swallowed, then asked,
“Are you packing some for lunch? Does that mean I can eat lots of sandwiches from now on?”
Her words made me flinch. She’d asked me to make them often enough, and I never had. A few times, sure—she’d always loved the ones I made—but I’d usually just told her to buy something outside because I couldn’t be bothered. Seeing how happy she was now left me feeling guilty.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Yay. Make them for me a lot from now on.”
“Sorry. I’ll make them more often.”
She looked up at me with bright expectation. I was already breaking out in a cold sweat under the pressure. Pana smiled warmly as she wrapped the sandwiches I’d prepared in paper and tucked them into a basket. I let out a helpless little laugh and watched her with fond eyes.
Over breakfast we talked about all sorts of things—new friends she’d made, news from the southern writers’ circle, what she was studying these days.
“By the way, Unnie, you’re not coming to literature class?”
“Mm. I want to focus on swordsmanship for a while.”
“Really? I never knew you were into that kind of thing.”
My hand paused mid-bite.
“I want to be able to protect my own body. You understand, right?”
“Yeah… I know that much…”
She lowered her eyes, her expression clouding a little. I had never told Pana about the things that had happened to me. How much would it hurt her if she knew? So I’d chosen to hide the truth. I simply couldn’t bring myself to confess how I’d been used by one man after another. As long as I kept it secret until graduation, I told myself, it was better this way.
“Oh, right—you need money, don’t you?”
“No, I’ve still got enough to get by…”
She firmly refused the silver coins I held out, but I pressed them into her hand anyway. Fifty guilders—about fifty thousand won in modern money.
“Unnie, you need money too…”
“The manager said he’ll settle my wages every single day, so I’m fine. Ten guilders an hour, you know?”
“Really? Ten guilders? I want to work too.”
The sudden remark caught me off guard; I just stared at her.
“You serious?”
“Yeah. I can work too, you know.”
Working together would certainly lighten the load on me, but the thought of the manager’s lecherous gaze made it impossible.
“Sorry, I was just saying. Don’t worry about it.”
She studied my face, then laughed it off.
“I can handle the job alone. You just focus on your studies.”
That was the end of the conversation. An uneasy feeling lingered, but I quickly packed lunch and headed for the bakery.
“Good morning, Boss.”
“Oh! Miss Blair, you’re looking even prettier today.”
The manager greeted me with a bright smile. I tied on a simple apron and began arranging the fresh loaves from the oven onto the display shelves. He watched my every move with a meaningful glint in his eye. It would have been a lie to say I felt no fear, but I needed the money. No other high-paying job that also covered meals was going to fall into my lap. For the time being I couldn’t keep up the morning training or running either—not until the wounds had fully healed, anyway.
Warm sunlight poured in through the open window and flooded the shop. Once the busy morning rush of housewives had passed, I finally got to sit down for a moment. The Twin-Sword Soul bakery really did do enough business to keep a person constantly on their feet. I stretched out my tired legs and closed my eyes.
“?”
Someone was kneading my shoulders.
“What…?”
“Been hard since morning, hasn’t it?”
The manager was massaging my shoulders without my asking.
“Haha… You really don’t have to do that…”
“Nonsense. When I look at you, Miss May, I just can’t treat you like a stranger…”
I hesitated. By the standards of the modern world I’d come from, this was sexual harassment. But I had no idea what the standards were here.
“Haa…”
A sharp, tingling sensation pulled a soft moan from my lips before I could stop it. The manager’s massage technique was surprisingly good. The muscles around my shoulders and neck ached and yet felt wonderfully relieved at the same time. I must have been carrying more stress than I realized; everything was knotted tight.
“Feels good, right? My fingers are strong—once you’ve had a massage from me, everyone else’s feels like nothing.”
“It really does feel great.”
I answered with a smile.
“You were really tense. Don’t worry, I’ll work it all out in one go.”
He grinned slyly and let his hands travel from my neck and shoulders down my back and waist.
“Haaa…”
When his thumbs dug firmly along my spine, a thin, high-pitched moan slipped out. Then his palms slid under my arms and began to rub gently.
Ah, this is getting dangerous. At this rate he’s going to reach my chest…
“Boss, that’s enough. Everything’s loosened up now.”
I was trembling all over as I hurriedly spoke. I forced my quivering lips apart and kept my gaze fixed downward.
“Hm? That’s enough? I haven’t even started yet.”
His voice sounded almost disappointed.
“I’m fine now. Thank you.”
“Glad to hear it. If you ever need another one, just say the word—I’ll do it anytime.”
He spoke in a slow, amused drawl and patted my shoulder. The massage had left my whole body feeling limp and loose.
“Shall we have lunch, then? It gets busy at midday, so better to eat early. Anything you feel like?”
“Oh, I packed lunch from home.”
I took a sandwich out of the basket.
“Isn’t that the leftover bread you took yesterday?”
His expression said, Why on earth did you bring that all the way here to eat?
“Yes. I made it into sandwiches at home.”
“Sandwiches?”
“It’s food where you put fillings between slices of bread. Would you like to try one?”
I asked carefully. He accepted the piece I held out with a curious look.
“Egg and potato? Chopping them up and stuffing them in like this is unusual.”
The manager took a bite.
“Huh? Egg and potato alone shouldn’t taste like this…”
He tilted his head thoughtfully, then fixed me with a suspicious stare.
“Did you put something else in?”
“Egg, potato, cucumber, and onion.”
“Those alone wouldn’t give this rich, fresh flavor…”
He pondered, then took another bite.
“Not cheese or butter…”
“Are you talking about the mayonnaise?”
“Mayonnaise? What’s that?”
“See the yellow, sticky sauce mixed into the chopped filling?”
“This is mayonnaise?”
He scooped some up with a finger and tasted it.
“That’s the flavor! How do you make this sauce?”
Astonished eyes locked onto my face. For a moment I hesitated. As far as I could tell, mayonnaise didn’t exist in this world. That meant I might be able to make some real money off it. But if I carelessly handed over the recipe, I might just end up doing someone else a favor… In the end, the way to profit was simple. The moment I reached that conclusion, I spoke without hesitation.
“I can teach you the sandwich recipe. But the mayonnaise is my own special sauce, so I can’t give you the method. I’ll sell it to you cheaply instead.”
A strange silence settled between us.
“All right. Bring a jar tomorrow. I’ll pay twenty guilders for a bottle that size.”
The manager answered with a face full of peculiar interest.