The Crown Prince's Romance
"I kneaded the dough myself and topped it with the meat you like, my lord. Half is beef and half is pork, for variety."
The midterm exams of the second semester had come to an end. Regardless of how their results turned out, everyone threw themselves straight into preparations for the autumn festival. The news of the Crown Prince's visit had the students buzzing, and in turn it breathed fresh life into the entire academy. It would be the most lavish and splendid festival in memory — that much everyone agreed on.
"Checkmate."
"Oh dear. Have I lost yet again, my lord?"
Today's snack from Bar was pizza. Death, who had just been raising a slice to his mouth, froze mid-bite under Bar's tirade.
"Just how many losses is this, exactly? How can you not win a single game?"
"Bar, my brother……"
"Think of the gap in the years we've lived. Does this make any sense at all? This is an embarrassment to the Demon Realm, an embarrassment, I say!"
Clack!
Death set the pizza slice down. No — "flung it down" would have been the more accurate way to put it. Watching the slice land on the table with an air of sullen displeasure, Bayul and Amon tensed up.
Death giving up on food.
It could only mean that something very, very bad was about to happen. And here, "something very bad" meant that Bar's remaining arm might well end up on the chopping block.
"Who on earth taught you to play chess? Even I could do better, and I've merely observed the game!"
"Is that so?"
One corner of Death's mouth curved upward, crooked and slow. Anyone could see it was fury disguised as a smile — anyone except Bar, who remained utterly oblivious.
"And here I thought there was some point to cooking for you! I begged you, sincerely begged you, to win just once — and I simply cannot understand it!"
"You know what? I can't understand it either. Why I've kept you alive all this time."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I should have cut off your head that day instead of just your arm. That was my mistake, wasn't it?"
"B-Brother?"
Only then did Bar grasp the situation. Dodging Death's gaze, which was seething crimson, he took a step backward.
"I've been coddling you lately, haven't I — all because you've gotten a bit better at cooking? Keep this up and you and I will be eating as *friends*?"
"N-No, my lord! How could I ever dare call myself a friend to the Commander! It's a mis-misunderstanding!"
"A misunderstanding?"
"Yes sir, yes! Right, I was wrong! Please forgive me, just this once!"
Black energy rippled off Death's body. In the face of that terrifying killing intent, Bar turned ashen and trembled so violently he could barely stand. Left alone, something truly catastrophic was about to erupt.
"Bar! I told you to hurry back with nothing but the pizza! Why are you dawdling like this? I built up a fine fire in the stone oven and it's about to go out entirely!"
It was the very moment Bayul was bracing himself to throw his body between the two of them and stop it somehow. APRON recently purchased by Bayul — Rita, wearing the apron he'd bought her, came storming in, hackles raised.
Death's black aura died out in an instant. The taut, poisonous air gave way to peace in the space of a breath.
"…Yes ma'am! On my way, Master!"
To Bar, Rita was nothing short of a savior. Clutching his one remaining arm protectively to his chest, he bolted toward her.
"Now then, young master — eat before it gets cold. Eat well, practice hard, and you simply must take first place!"
"…Right, Rita."
It was a transformation as complete as heaven and earth compared to the way she'd been shrieking at Bar. Rita left her encouragement with a warm smile, then vanished into the kitchen.
When Rita heard that Bayul would be competing in the chess tournament at the festival, she'd declared he needed his stamina reinforced, and she had been cooking nonstop since morning.
"Ahaha, this is perfect — I was just getting hungry, and here's a fresh pizza. Everyone, dig in."
It was a relief that Bar had survived intact, but the atmosphere still felt strangely brittle. Bayul, eager to shake off the awkwardness, pushed the plate of pizza toward Death and Amon and changed the subject.
"Did I ever mention that new professors are joining the academy?"
"No, you didn't, my lord."
They'd been buried in exam preparation, after all; there had hardly been time for casual conversation.
"I expected it to take much longer, but the Director managed to recruit them in short order. So I imagine there won't be any serious disruption to the Temple's affairs."
"How reassuring. Wouldn't you say so, Brother Death?"
Though Rita's arrival had averted disaster, Death's expression remained dark. Clearly, his anger had not entirely cooled.
"The meat looks excellent. You should try it, my lord."
Amon plucked up a slice with his own hand and held it close to Death's face.
"…Smells good."
Death's nostrils flared. Bar's behavior might be unforgivable, but there was no helping how one's heart softened before delicious food.
"You think so? Then I suppose I'd better have a taste myself."
There was only one way to get a hesitant Death moving: eating the most delicious-looking bite possible right in front of him. Bayul smacked his lips with theatrical relish and took an enormous bite of pizza.
"Well? Another success, is it?"
Nod, nod.
Chewing away contentedly, Bayul bobbed his head. He didn't forget to wash it down with a sip of juice and give a thumbs-up either. Ever since he'd perfected the stir-fried meat dish some time ago, Bar had been marching down a road of unbroken triumph. Right up until his disastrous confession a moment ago, that is.
"It really is delicious. Your skills keep improving."
Bayul's praise was no empty flattery. Bar's cooking genuinely was advancing by the day. The Bar of the past — the one whose every dish, whatever he attempted, came out tasting somehow wrong — existed nowhere anymore.
Death's deliberation did not last long. The instant he saw Bayul demolishing a slice, the pizza was already sliding into his own mouth.
"Oh!"
And out burst a cry of genuine admiration. Even Death couldn't quite believe it. The idea that Bar, of all demons, was suddenly producing food one could actually eat struck him as truly uncanny.
"Wow — the seasoning's perfect and the texture is wonderful. Is this really our Brother Bar's handiwork?"
"Most certainly."
"How can you be so sure?"
"The meat."
Bayul pointed, deliberately showing off, at the generously sliced meat piled high across the pizza.
"Rita never puts meat on pizza."
"Then what goes on it normally?"
"Usually vegetables — tomatoes, olives, mushrooms — along with the cheese. This is absolutely, definitively Bar's work."
It was precisely because Bar loved meat that he was capable of this kind of creativity. A bit heavy for a snack, perhaps, but pizza eaten alongside meat was delicious in its own right.
"This is all great, but there isn't nearly enough of it."
By the time anyone noticed, nothing but empty plates remained on the table. There had been quite a generous amount to begin with, as Bayul remembered — but naturally, for these demons it hadn't even whetted their appetites.
"I doubt this is the end of it."
"…Probably not?"
"No. Judging by how worried she was about the oven fire dying, I'd say she'll be bringing out several more batches."
There was no way Rita didn't know how much the Death brothers could eat. She nagged them constantly about eating too much — and she was also the one who fussed endlessly over feeding them well, insisting that a full belly was the greatest blessing of all.
"Brother! This time I've topped it with chicken and lamb!"
Before Bayul even finished speaking, Bar reappeared bearing a fresh pizza. Apparently emboldened by the sight of the empty plates, he stepped right up and set down the piping-hot pie, straight from the oven.
"……!"
And for a moment Bayul genuinely could not tell whether this was pizza or simply a meat dish. The sheer volume of meat was several times greater than the last one.
"Yes — now THIS is more like it!"
Unlike the flustered Bayul, Death's and Amon's eyes were sparkling. These were, after all, the two demons utterly powerless before the word "meat." The three of them — Death, Amon, and even Bar — demolished the entire pizza in one sitting. They moved so fast that Bayul never got so much as a taste.
"Now I can finally rest easy."
Death said it while patting his stomach in satisfaction.
"I was worried about what we'd eat once we went back to the Demon Realm. Once might be luck, twice might be coincidence — but at this level, it's skill. I can trust it."
"Do you truly mean that, my lord?"
Bar was so moved by this unexpected praise that he didn't know where to put himself. At long last he felt recognized as a cook, and the pride swelling in his chest was beyond all words.
"The finest chef in the Demon Realm, from this day forward, is Brother Bar."
"A-Amon!"
At Amon's hammering of the final nail, Bar clapped a hand over his own mouth. For him there could be no higher accolade. He could already picture it — the moment his honor would be restored in the Demon Realm.
"It's a great shame the autumn festival has been called off, but thanks to Brother Bar, I believe we can endure it all the same."
"It's a pity for me too, that the schedules had to collide like that. We could have enjoyed ourselves the way we did at the night market last time."
"Didn't someone say the festival runs for several days?"
"Yes — three days in total."
"Then if I wrap up my business quickly, coming back within that window is doable."
Such was Death's iron resolve: he would attend the festival no matter what, and he would eat everything. He'd heard somewhere that there would be all manner of food stalls — and on the strength of that rumor, not just Death but Bar and Amon alike had been balking desperately at this trip to the Demon Realm.
Bayul asked what the matter was, but they would only insist that they absolutely had to go, without ever revealing the details.
"If the Director asks why we're gone, tell her something came up at home."
"…If she inquires, I shall say exactly that."
Everything he'd seen so far said that Death and the Director were hardly on terms where exchanging pleasantries was natural. If anything, Death seemed to actively dislike her, so it was unlikely to come up anyway.
"Serarika, was it? The new professor in the Magic Department."
"…How do you know about her, Brother Death? I never said a word about her……"
"The Director brought new professors with her, didn't she? Anyone who can recruit mages that fast knows her way around. And that woman — I have a passing acquaintance with her myself."
"You mentioned the Director had some history with her. Is that when you met?"
"That's right. Anyway, if that woman asks too, give her the same answer. One inquiry splitting into two has already been enough of a headache."
"Technically three, my lord."
"Well, we've filled our stomachs. Shall we have another round?"
"Brother, please — no more letting him win!"
"…I beg your pardon? *Letting* him win?"
There was a fairly significant error in Bar's statement. When Bayul turned to look at him, Bar had adopted a manner entirely different from before.
"Until now, it was you who were being indulged, my lord. That is why you kept winning. My brother's true strength begins now."
"Ah — is that so?"
Bar was fabricating words he didn't mean a shred of, all in a desperate bid to protect his one remaining arm. His efforts, unfortunately, stirred up a pointless streak of stubbornness in Bayul.
Practice like the real thing; fight the real thing like practice.
With that vow, Bayul threw himself into the chess games.
Ten games. Ten wins.
Every single victory that day belonged to Bayul. Death clung to him, begging for just one more game, but it was already far past a reasonable bedtime, so Bayul put him off until tomorrow.
He'd taken an unbroken string of wins against the Demon God as well — somehow, it gave him a good feeling about the festival too.