A Suspiciously Familiar Scent - 5
I dined with Marie in a corner of the restaurant.
A place this high-end would normally require a reservation no matter what. Thanks to the goodwill she commanded, we managed to claim a reasonably empty table. In exchange, since we were being treated free of charge, the menu was simpler than the usual full course. They couldn't very well put out dishes they were actually selling, after all.
"Tomato soup. I used some of the sauce from the ratatouille I made a little while ago."
The first course. A plate of red soup was set before us.
This takes me back.
I seemed to recall eating tomato soup fairly often back in France. Coming face to face with it again like this brought a wave of fondness. Clink. I carefully scooped some up and tasted it—different from the soup I knew. Different cook, different ingredients; of course it would be.
"Do you happen to have any basil powder? If not, the leaves would be fine too."
"Of course. I'll bring it right away."
I called a staff member over and made the request carefully, and they gladly brought powdered basil. Tomato soup simply wasn't complete without a sprinkle of basil; I couldn't bring myself to skip it.
Tap, tap.
As I dusted the powder on, Marie fixed me with a peculiar gaze. Surely this wasn't a breach of manners?
"Is something… wrong?"
"Hmm? Ah… Forgive me, I was just watching. You must like basil."
"I like sprinkling it on tomatoes."
Especially on a dish like this—it felt like the aroma really came alive, which made me love it all the more. It was a bit like sprinkling chili powder on jjajangmyeon.
Next came the fish. It was the salmon I'd seen earlier, pan-fried in butter so that warmth still rose from the plate. Before the dish came out, after hearing the chef's description, I'd asked them to lay a few sprigs of dill—the herb that looked a bit like pine needles—on the plate. It was a modest touch, but the fragrance still came through. That aroma helped cut through the potential heaviness of the salmon meunière.
For the main course, the steak, I requested grated daikon radish—what they commonly called oroshi in Japan. It was a method I'd devised back when I had trouble eating ssammmu.
Delicious.
Of course, my requests were a bit particular. I was well aware of that. Even so, I figured it was within the bounds of what fine dining would tolerate. There were stories of people who took one bite and demanded the whole dish remade, after all.
"Thank you for the meal."
"Yes, same here."
As we finished eating, a complicated emotion surfaced in Marie's eyes. Even though her voice and expression remained calm, it was plain enough to see. Had something not been to her liking? The thought crossed my mind for a moment, but only a moment.
"Oh, right. About that wine I brought… Fortunately, we never needed it. So I was thinking we might drink it now before we go. What do you think?"
"Why not just take it with you? I don't really know wine, and it only ever tastes bitter to me. Serving wine to someone like that would feel like such a waste."
When I declined politely, Marie's eyes lit up. It was different from the look of someone simply relieved that I'd read her courtesy offer and turned it down. This was exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. It felt precisely like that.
"In that case, you absolutely must try it. Wait just a moment."
As if she'd been waiting for this, Marie left her seat and returned only after five minutes. She carried a bottle of white wine that had deepened in color almost to the shade of whiskey.
"Let's drink it together. I already poured a glass for the chef here, so there's no need to worry about looking over our shoulders."
"Ah… all right."
She looked so delighted as she sat back down, uncorked the bottle, and poured into the glasses already set on the table—smiling the whole time. It was a smile that felt neither entirely put-on nor entirely genuine. Strangely complex, and yet so soft.
"Here. Please."
Marie filled a glass and held it out toward me. The fact that she didn't even nose it suggested she'd already finished her tasting. Earlier, when the wine had been served, she'd personally smelled and tasted it herself.
Château d'Yquem Sauternes 1976.
My eyes caught the letters on the paper-like label affixed to the bottle—the étiquette.
"Thank you."
I accepted the glass and carefully brought it to my nose. Even though it had been a long time, there was no sense of wrongness in the gesture. It was a motion drilled into me during those hellish days of endless training; it had clearly sunk deep into my body.
"Huu…"
Perhaps because old memories rose so thickly, my chest suddenly felt tight, and a sigh slipped out. Startled, Marie asked,
"Are you all right? Are you tired, or not feeling well?"
"Ah, no. I'm fine. The aroma was just so good my nose nearly clogged up."
When I papered it over with a rough lie, Marie's expression brightened. It felt like she'd found common ground in the idea that the fragrance was good enough even I could appreciate it.
"Right? It's a vintage that makes the word 'intoxicating' come out all by itself."
"Even someone who doesn't know wines like me can tell it's excellent. But is it really all right to drink something like this?"
"Wine only has meaning when you enjoy it, after all. I already gave that person a different bottle as a gift, so don't worry. Valerie and Henri will probably enjoy it together too."
The thoughtfulness of having already made arrangements so I wouldn't feel bad about drinking alone. And that familiar atmosphere about her, somehow. With my mind put at ease on several counts, I went ahead and drank the wine.
Oh.
Sweetness. Complexity. That was about as far as my palate went, but it was more than enough to call it delicious. There was a richness to it that left a lingering finish. I drew my lips away, then gave the wrist holding the glass a light outward twist. No particular reason—just a habit I'd picked up long ago. It also helped ease the stiffness.
What's going on?
Marie's eyes, as she drank her wine, wavered violently. Ever since the interpreting, she'd been watching me with various looks of puzzlement. And now she was showing another reaction I couldn't make sense of. Even so, the way she drank and the rhythm of her breathing remained utterly peaceful. Utterly natural, too.
One glass, two glasses. We only rose from our seats after we'd finished the entire bottle. Later, when I learned how much that wine cost—how high its value was—I nearly had my eyes pop out of my head, but… at the time, all I thought was that I'd eaten well.
"Thank you for the meal. I was thinking of walking a bit to clear the alcohol—is that all right with you?"
"Let's do that."
Once we were outside the restaurant, I asked, and Marie nodded. Unlike the way over, we planned to get home on our own this time, so I was thinking of catching a taxi. I'd declined her offer to take me. Truthfully, the wine hadn't been that high in alcohol, so I didn't feel particularly drunk. But I walked for the breeze and to help digestion. Marie walked with perfect posture as well, without any sign of discomfort. She wasn't wearing high heels, so it probably wasn't much of a problem.
"Thanks to you, communication went smoothly and we got through without any trouble. Thank you."
Whoosh. As the wind blew, Marie's lips parted.
"I was able to have a wonderful experience thanks to you as well. Thank you."
"I'm relieved to hear you say that. I kept wondering if I'd dragged you somewhere pointless for no good reason. The guests were particular, too."
"It was completely unexpected, so I was tense. I'm glad it seems to have gone well."
As particular as they were, they weren't on the level of Dubarry, who'd been outright unhinged. Making a mistake would still have been awkward, but they were people we could handle. That was how I'd thought of it, which was probably why we'd gotten through so smoothly.
"I talked with the chef a bit—he speaks English—and he said that person is quite a powerful Awakened."
"Is that so? Then how come I didn't know?"
If it was an Awakened with any real clout in Korea, there was no way I wouldn't have known. Which meant either a parachute appointment, or someone carrying out a secret mission. One of those two seemed most likely.
"They don't put themselves forward much, from the sound of it. Just like how you don't know every celebrity's or politician's face."
"When you put it that way, it clicks right away."
Politicians' faces were plastered everywhere, yet few people knew them all. There were even people who didn't recognize the face of the assemblyman from their own district. On top of that, even among celebrities, there were those who flared up briefly and then sank without a trace. No matter how famous, to someone with no interest in entertainment they were simply strangers. Thinking of it like that, it made perfect sense.
"Yes. So…"
Marie started to speak, then stopped mid-sentence and halted in her tracks. Her gentle eyes settled into something calm yet cold. Why? I looked around, and the answer presented itself.
A mixed group of men and women was slowly approaching from the dark street outside. If they were just people going about their own way, that would have been one thing. But the way they were looking at Marie as they came closer was far from ordinary.
Criminals.
Whether they were ordinary criminals or criminals with Awakened mixed in among them. Either way, both the former and the latter were unpleasant types. I should call someone.
Just as I was about to shyly yet boldly play the Saint card to get us out of this, Marie took hold of my wrist and smiled.
"It's all right. From a quick scan, most of them are non-Awakened, and there are only about two Awakened. It's a level I can handle—no problem."
She could handle Awakened. That implied Marie herself was an Awakened. Behind her confidence had to be the fact that she, too, was one. A non-Awakened beating an Awakened? It wasn't entirely impossible. But depending on the rank, it was fair to call it flat-out impossible.
This is getting tense.
The streetlights were on, yet it was still dark. And of all places, we'd been surrounded by a pack of lowlifes on a deserted sidewalk with no one around. It oddly brought to mind a classic encirclement formation.
"Being good little kids, are we? Looks like you've got a pretty good idea what's coming."
A man in a thin jacket stepped forward with a smirk. At a glance he looked like a decent young man. But his expression and the air around him were pure shadow from the dark side of the world.
Marie regarded the man who had come right up to her face for a moment, then slowly opened her mouth.
"Everyone, stand up straight and hold that position. And keep your mouths shut."
Not English—French. And not just any French, but an antique, high-flown French I'd never heard from her before, tickling my ears.
They won't understand that.
Anyone could issue a warning even when terrified. The question was whether the people receiving it would take it to heart. But if she used French, understanding or not might not even come into it—they simply might not comprehend. None of them looked like the sort who spoke French, either.
And yet.
"Ugh…!"
Every last one of them. As if they had understood perfectly, they snapped to attention and clamped their mouths shut. More precisely, they looked as if they wanted to open their mouths but couldn't.
An Awakened ability. Anyone could see that Marie's power had seized control of the people who had formed that encirclement. The way their pupils trembled suggested it wasn't brainwashing. And with no sense of something wavering or thrashing, it wasn't direct interference like telekinesis either. Which made it all the more confusing. I couldn't even begin to guess what kind of ability it was.
"Focus."
In the midst of it, Marie swept her gaze around and spoke. Utterly solemn. Radiating the dignity of a powerful king.
"As of today, stop your foolish, wicked deeds and go quietly home. And the moment you arrive home, forget everything about us."
Strange. Just looking at their faces, the sense that they didn't understand was strong. Yet they all turned their backs as if they had understood perfectly and left the scene. And they did it so meekly. Drenched in cold sweat, wearing expressions as if possessed by a ghost.
Was this a dream? Had I seen wrong? Caught in a dazed feeling myself, I stood there blankly when—
"I'll explain while we walk."
Marie looked at me and smiled softly. As if to say she meant me no harm.