Chapter 58: The Witch and the Noble Lady (3)
Chapter 58: The Witch and the Noble Lady (3)
Translation: Godtl
Bubble, bubble, bubble.
Water boiled in a large cauldron.
Inside it were the mushrooms Penelope had gathered, the seasonings Isolde had pulled from her cloak, cabbage, beef, and other ingredients.
With an unreadable expression, Isolde silently simmered the mushroom stew.
With her witch's hat on and a ladle in hand, stirring the pot vigorously, she looked every bit like a witch brewing suspicious potions.
...There aren't any poisonous mushrooms in here, right?
Penelope swallowed those words.
No matter what, Isolde was a bit intimidating for her.
It wasn't just their social standing—Isolde had been an alchemist Penelope had long admired.
Wasn't she the great alchemist who had fought alongside Han-bin in the Great Subjugation?
To think she was now camping in the Demon Realm, eating mushroom stew alone with such a figure—life really was unpredictable.
"Ah, right. Lady Isolde."
"Hm."
"I don't think I properly thanked you yesterday. For fixing my mana circuits..."
"You did."
"I was flustered at the time, and I didn't realize how much of a difference it would make."
She had thought it was just a minor tune-up, something nice but not extraordinary.
But today, when she used Fox Flower, she truly felt it.
Before, Penelope had unconsciously avoided the malfunctioning circuits when casting spells.
But now, every single mana circuit in her body thrummed with energy, so vividly clear she could trace each one in her mind.
Compared to this, her previous spellcasting had been like playing the piano with only three fingers.
"Your kindness toward a junior like me... I truly appreciate it once again."
Penelope bowed deeply, her voluminous crown of hair dipping toward Isolde.
"Is there anyone around who hates you?"
"Huh?"
Isolde's abrupt question came out of nowhere.
But by now, Penelope had gotten a rough grasp of Isolde's unpredictable nature.
People who hate me?
She pondered for a moment.
"...It'd be faster to list the ones who like me."
"Same."
"Oh."
Just as Penelope let out a sound of amused kinship, the mushroom stew was done.
"It's ready. Eat up."
"I'll dig in. Ah, you first."
Penelope ladled stew into Isolde's bowl first, then froze at its menacing appearance.
She had picked the less flamboyant mushrooms, but it still didn't look particularly appetizing.
Especially not after having her palate spoiled by Jurgen's cooking.
"Huh?"
But the moment she took a bite—
Her salivary glands ached from the sheer deliciousness.
At least it wasn't poisoned—no coughing up blood or collapsing. The cabbage was crisp, the mushrooms pleasantly chewy.
And the broth... there was something familiar about it.
That sauce from the Eastern Continent.
The one Jurgen used quite often—she remembered it.
"Did you put soy sauce in the broth?"
"Yeah, tsuyu, to be precise."
"It's amazing. You're even good at cooking... You're incredible."
It wasn't flattery—she meant it.
At this point, Jurgen's claim that cooking and alchemy had something in common seemed truer than ever.
"Han-bin taught me the recipe."
"Of course, Master Han-bin. He's good at cooking too."
"And cleaning."
Isolde slurped the broth casually, then added offhandedly.
Now's the chance!
Seizing the moment while Isolde was in a talkative mood, Penelope asked:
"By the way... What kind of person is Master Han-bin?"
"Han-bin?"
"Yes!"
She had been dying to ask.
Isolde had been Han-bin's comrade during the Great Subjugation.
That meant she was one of the few who had seen him up close.
Hadn't she already obtained the precious information that Han-bin was good at cooking and cleaning?
As his devoted fan, she couldn't let such a golden opportunity slip away.
Isolde tilted her head this way and that, pondering, before finally speaking.
"Hmm... His voice is deep. And resonant."
"He's a picky eater, so he only eats food he makes himself."
"When he wakes up, his hair sticks out in weird directions."
"And... um... uhh..."
As Isolde counted off on her fingers while groaning, Penelope checked to make sure her polite social smile was still in place.
Somehow, this wasn't the kind of story she'd been expecting.
It was utterly devoid of substance.
Were they perhaps not that close?
"More than that... I was curious about what kind of person he is on a more... human level."
"Human level...?"
Isolde nodded slowly, as if understanding.
"Han-bin cherishes his comrades."
"..."
Penelope waited for more, but Isolde just slurped her soup noisily again.
It didn't seem like she was deliberately dragging things out—she just genuinely struggled with communication.
"Are there any... fun anecdotes or stories about him?"
"Fun anecdotes?"
This time, Isolde thought for a long while before answering.
"Being with Han-bin was always fun. Probably."
Maybe it was just her imagination, but for a moment, Isolde looked strangely lonely.
So much so that Penelope felt she shouldn't pry any further.
"What about you?"
"Huh?"
"Your comrade who made Cola with you."
"Ah, Jurgen?"
"Yeah."
At first, it seemed like another abrupt shift, but it wasn't.
The moment she thought of Jurgen, yesterday's resentment came crawling back.
"He's slick, incredibly shameless. And a liar."
"And?"
Still, she couldn't just badmouth him endlessly.
"Well... he takes good care of his comrades. He's good at cooking, cleans diligently... Huh, he actually has a lot in common with Han-bin."
"Have you ever fought with him?"
An unexpected follow-up question.
Given the flow of the conversation, it seemed like an offhand query—Penelope doubted Isolde had any real interest—but...
"We had our first fight just the other day."
Before she could even finish speaking, Isolde pressed further.
"Who was at fault?"
"Obviously, Jurgen was at fault."
If only he hadn't stubbornly kept secrets—no, wait.
If he'd just excluded Penelope and shared them with Serena, she wouldn't have been this upset.
"Will you make up?"
"W-well, that depends on Jurgen. But... um, I think we probably will."
"How?"
"It wasn't really a big fight, so..."
Isolde showed an unusual level of interest in this topic.
Her words came faster, and her face, already close, inched even nearer.
Was this really that entertaining?
"What if you were the one at fault? How would you make up then?"
"Well... I'd apologize and give a gift, I suppose."
Maybe it was her imagination again, but Isolde's eyes seemed to gleam faintly.
"What if Jurgen was really, really angry? Would a gift still work?"
"If he was really, really angry...?"
Penelope found this line of questioning surprising—Isolde didn't strike her as the type to enjoy such hypotheticals.
She wanted to answer sincerely, but...
Honestly, Penelope wasn't sure herself.
More than anything, she couldn't even imagine Jurgen getting that angry.
Jurgen was, after all, one of the most magnanimous people Penelope had ever met.
Hadn't he brushed off her early noble-lady tantrums without a second thought?
That Jurgen, getting really angry?
Frankly, the thought was terrifying.
"Even so... if it was that big of a fight, just a gift might... not be enough, don't you think?"
"..."
Isolde remained silent for a very long time.
Without realizing it, her body had also shifted slightly further away from Penelope.
"Yes."
Her reply this time also carried a faint trace of loneliness.
When summer approaches, the Lenoir Workshop turns into a sauna.
The corrugated tin roof radiates heat after being baked under the blazing sun.
With no proper cooling facilities and the interior packed with machines emitting scorching heatwaves...
Someone with low blood pressure might faint if left standing there for just thirty minutes.
"Ugh, it's so hot. I'm seriously going to die like this."
Serena, dressed in rough work clothes, wiped the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead with her sleeve.
Despite her grumbling mouth, her cheeks dimpled with a radiant smile bright enough to form deep creases.
These days, Serena was brimming with motivation.
The icebox and cola vending machine projects Jurgen had planned.
She was pouring her heart and soul into both, to the point where she often ended up sleeping in the workshop when possible.
Before, she'd worked on them half-forced out of fear of Penelope and Jurgen—but not anymore.
Jurgen was her senior who'd saved her life.
Penelope was, well... maybe...? A friend.
Not to mention the person who'd freed her from an arranged marriage by relinquishing the baronetcy to her.
Of course, that didn't mean the two had become completely un-intimidating...
They say people would lay down their lives for those who recognize their worth.
(Though honestly, she had no intention of going that far—because it was terrifying.) Instead, she'd resolved to deliver the best possible results!
"Everyone, take a break and head inside!"
"Yes, my lady!"
"Our lady's become so spirited lately."
"Before, she had this gloomy air about her, but now she's always smiling—it's wonderful to see!"
"Hey, Big! Bring some cold cola!"
The Lenoir Workshop employees were delighted by Serena's transformation too.
Just as Serena was gulping down the chilled bottle of cola—
A visitor arrived.
"Miss Serena, do you have a moment?"
It was Jurgen.
Serena immediately set down the cola bottle and bowed at a perfect 90-degree angle.
"You're here, Senior Jurgen?"
"Can we do something about that title? Aren't you a proper baronetess now, Miss Serena?"
"Oh please, with Father still around, I'm not officially a baronetess yet."
Just as there can't be two counts in one family, the same applies to first-generation nobles holding baronetcies.
Though the recommendation had already been submitted, Serena would formally receive the baronetcy when she eventually became family head.
"Did you come about the vending machine? There was something I wanted to ask you about it."
"No, not that. There's something I'd like to consult with you about, Miss Serena."
"Consult? With me?"
"Indeed."
Serena blinked her large eyes rapidly.
Jurgen was both her greatly benefitted senior and someone who'd somehow become her role model.
Not only was he a magitech expert, but his personal abilities were formidable, and he was deeply knowledgeable about upper-class politics too.
For someone like him to seek her counsel...
"W-would someone like me really be any help?"
"Of course, Miss Serena."
Since her appearance was rather disheveled, Serena first requested shower time before guiding Jurgen to the reception room.
"Please wait here just a moment. I'll be right back."
As he waited for Serena in the reception room, Jurgen rubbed his thumb thoughtfully.
Truthfully, everything was progressing splendidly.
He'd secured full cooperation from both Baron Keystone and Head Manager Gideon Belheim.
The Gastronomic Revolution he aimed for was now fully on track.
Once the cola bottling system was completely established, he planned to move on to the next step.
With the foundation laid through beverages, he planned to use that capital and influence as a springboard to fully promote 'gourmet cuisine.'
How long had it been since he immersed himself purely in ambition and purpose?
Truly, these were fulfilling and enriching days.
But the past he had turned away from did not disappear—it came back.
How should he describe it?
Ah, yes.
Karma.
Like a bill presented when the time comes to settle the accumulated past of a lifetime.
Beatrice had been a loyal subordinate who stood by Han-bin's side from their days in the Secret Burial Squad through the Great Subjugation.
Isolde had been a good mentor and the benefactor who granted him Life.
When they discovered the vile Cult conducting the summoning ritual for the 'Devourer,'
Han-bin had been ready to sacrifice himself.
Because both of them were precious to him.
But without any discussion, Isolde used her 'Life' to reconstruct Viche's circuits.
She prevented the Sub-god's descent.
The result?
Viche was erased from the memories of everyone except the two present at the ritual.
Along with losing her ego and reason, she was reduced to the form of a mere monster.
That day, Han-bin lost his most cherished comrade.
The mentor who had once guided him became an incomprehensible stranger.
Han-bin gave up on forgiving Isolde. He gave up on hating her. He even gave up on trying to understand her.
But now, the time had come to face what he had postponed.
To forgive Isolde, to hate her, or to continue as strangers forever, just as they were now.
"Um, excuse me... Senior Jurgen?"
Lost in thought, he felt Serena gently poke his shoulder.
She must have rushed over—her hair wasn't fully dry, the ends still damp.
"Hm? When did you get here?"
"Just a moment ago. You were making such a scary face without saying anything..."
"Ah, my apologies. I was organizing my thoughts."
"That's understandable. So... is something troubling you? Honestly, I'm not sure how much help I can be, but... I can at least be your sounding board, like a teddy bear."
"Thank you."
Truthfully, Serena wasn't confident in giving advice.
But she still wanted to do something for Jurgen.
"I had a major falling-out with someone. Right now, I don't know how to see them, how to treat them. I can't make heads or tails of it. So I wanted to hear your thoughts, Miss Serena."
"Could you tell me a bit more in detail?"
"Well..."
Since he couldn't tell her everything, his explanation remained frustratingly vague.
Serena, who had been listening to Jurgen's request with earnestness, quickly noticed.
'This is way too vague.'
This was the same Jurgen who could explain complex machinery with clarity and precision—something she'd never heard before.
But now?
Even conveying something as simple as 'I fought with someone and don't know what to do' was coming out incoherent.
He was deliberately beating around the bush.
Which meant...
This was an awkward, embarrassing kind of consultation?
"Aha!"
A lightbulb went off in Serena's head.
'This... must be a love consultation!'
Fought with someone!
Doesn't know how to see them! Can't figure out how to treat them!
Isn't this exactly the kind of talk people have after a lovers' quarrel?
"Senior Jurgen, by any chance... did you have a fight with a woman?"
"Oh? How did you know? That's correct."
At Jurgen's answer, Serena mentally slammed the table in triumph.
Yes, yes!
This makes perfect sense now.
'It really is a love consultation!'
Finally, Serena found her confidence.
Because this was the one and only field where Serena Lenoir considered herself an expert.
"Don't worry! I've got this!"
"Hm?"
With a self-assuredness she had never shown before—no, with a confidence she had never displayed in her entire life—Serena thumped her chest.
"In that area, I'm a professional."
And it was true.
Serena's hobby was reading.
Specifically, romance novels.
She was a love expert who had devoured over a thousand romance novels.