I Want to Cook with You Too, Boss!
I Want to Cook with You Too, Boss!
"Why do you only play favorites with Ivan, Boss?"
"I only play favorites with Ivan?"
"Yes!"
Andrea shouted without a moment's hesitation, then pressed on like she meant to root the problem out once and for all.
"The last time I told you I wanted to learn how to cook, you refused. Absolutely. You told me my job was serving and nothing else. So why is it that when Ivan—who isn't even an employee—asks you to teach him, you just teach him?"
At first I thought she was joking.
But the voice she used with me was nothing but sincere.
"Is it because you didn't like me when we first met? Is that why you hate me?"
"Huh?"
"If it isn't that, are you still holding a grudge over how that Tuu I was chasing wrecked part of the village?"
Andrea's eyes glistened.
Did she seriously want to work in the kitchen that badly?
Her reaction caught me completely off guard.
"Andrea."
"So you do hate me."
"How could I hate you? I know better than anyone that you're the hardest-working person in this restaurant. You help with ingredient prep, you've become the face of the place, and your serving is excellent."
"Then why can't I go into the kitchen?"
This was unfamiliar territory for me.
Because of memories from my previous life.
The kitchen is brutal.
Several times harder than working the floor.
From the moment the orders hit and you start cooking, all the way until you've scrubbed every last dirty dish clean, you can't let your guard down for a single second.
It's a space full of knives and fire.
Sure, Andrea's an elf, and the knights wouldn't exactly keel over from a knife wound.
But getting hurt is still getting hurt.
I didn't want to watch one of my employees get injured in my own restaurant.
You have to fix every bad habit right from the start.
That was why I always raised my voice inside the kitchen.
And that's not all. Standing in front of a fire every day singes your face, and the constant moisture and humidity can get so bad your hands break out in dishpan dermatitis.
Is that all?
Even without those things, it's physical labor—harder than the floor by default.
In all my time in the restaurant business, I had never met a single female employee who actually wanted to work in the back.
That was my experience, start to finish.
—We're short-staffed, so why should I have to work in the kitchen? I was hired for the floor.
—Chef, I don't want to do dishes.
That was how nearly everyone reacted.
So dealing with Andrea—who was instead demanding to know point-blank why she couldn't work in the kitchen—was genuinely difficult.
"Like I told you last time, the restaurant shines when you've got a good-looking server on the floor. If I lose you, Andrea, there's nobody left to hold the front."
"W-well, you did say that, but..."
Andrea's momentum deflated a bit.
Compliments about looks really are a universal language.
"Still, Ivan getting to be in the kitchen with you all by himself is unfair."
Her eyes hardened.
She looked ready to storm the kitchen at any moment.
"I can do anything you ask, Boss. If you didn't like the way I acted when we first met, I'll fix all of it. I've been doing a decent job with the customers lately, you know. I don't fight anymore. Ask them yourself!"
Andrea finished and squared her shoulders.
"Please, Boss. I want to learn how to cook from you too. I mean I want to learn while you stand beside me and show me every little thing."
"Andrea, you've seen how I teach."
"I know. I've watched closely. But yelling and swearing during the teaching process is just part of it, isn't it?"
What exactly is wrong with elf society?
What do they do to people while teaching them?
Do they hand out some kind of manual on fifty ways to crush the student's spirit?
Well, Andrea did train those knights pretty ruthlessly.
Still, when someone's begging me this desperately, I can't very well turn them down.
"I'll think about it."
"Really?"
"Yes. Andrea, once I find a replacement floor server for you, I'll put you in the kitchen right away. How does that sound?"
"A replacement floor server..."
"It'd have to be another good-looking woman, I suppose. Though she won't draw as many eyes as having an elf on the floor."
"W-wait just a moment!"
"Hm?"
Andrea grabbed my wrist.
"You're hiring another female employee?"
"Of course I am. I can't exactly leave floor serving to those knights."
I pointed over at the knights, who were wolfing down their food like it was the best thing they'd ever eaten.
Heimer had a rugged, manly look, and Hamilton was decent enough in the face.
Honestly, calling them good-looking would be a stretch.
Briar might not be bad, but...
Asking knights to take customers' orders on the floor was absurd to begin with.
The majority of our customers were merchants and commoners.
Occasionally nobility showed up, but that was a tiny fraction.
None of these were people knights should be taking orders from.
If I were still in the modern era, I'd have said who the hell cares about social class in the 21st century? But this was the medieval era, where class was very real.
If anything, it was commoners who were supposed to take orders from knights.
Elves are a species that doesn't care about human social status, though.
Which meant I needed another employee to handle floor serving.
A commoner, and someone with at least passable looks.
I considered asking Bldi.
Absolutely not.
—E-exc-excuse m-me... I-I'll t-t-take your order...
Just imagining that dying-whisper of a voice attempting to take orders made my chest hurt.
Besides, it wasn't even the right time of day for a vampire to be active.
So I had no choice.
"Sooner or later I'll have to put out a posting and look for someone to handle floor serving. Or I could ask Camilla to find someone..."
"Wait!"
Andrea's grip on my hand tightened.
"Ow, ow, that hurts."
"I don't want that."
"You mean hiring someone new?"
"Yes. You absolutely cannot hire another woman. Wouldn't hiring a man be better instead?"
I shook my head.
Hiring a male floor server was out of the question—I'd sooner rub dirt in my own eyes.
In a restaurant packed with this many male customers, stick a guy out on the floor as a server and you can kiss your foot traffic goodbye.
That's just how it works.
It's a universal rule: a pretty waitress on the floor makes customers come back just to catch another glimpse. But a male server?
Nobody's going out of their way for that.
This was logic grounded in big data I'd accumulated over years of running businesses in 21st-century society.
Andrea bit her lip at Lucas's horrified response.
"Th-then my whole plan to learn cooking sweetly by the Boss's side goes completely out the window... And lately the women near the Boss have been..."
Andrea had been on extreme high alert regarding the recent increase in women around Lucas.
When had it started?
The moment when another woman getting close to him began to bother her.
One day, without quite knowing when, every new woman who appeared made a corner of her chest prickle and chafe.
She didn't want to see it.
She wanted to peel the woman beside him away immediately.
When had it begun?
Was it when Lucas made her food and then sat across from her, quietly watching her eat, and her heart felt at ease?
Was it when he stepped in and personally drove out the occasional troublesome customer for her?
Or maybe it was when he watched her swordsmanship and praised her, telling her she'd done well?
She couldn't pinpoint exactly when, but at some point her eyes had started gravitating toward Lucas of their own accord.
She liked the diligence he showed, and the dazzling, show-like spectacle he put on every time he cooked felt like a painting come to life.
Lucas had taught Andrea—who until then had known no form of cooking beyond throwing meat over fire—how to eat more deliciously.
Watching him blankly, engulfed in the flames, she felt a tickling sensation in her chest.
The way his forearm muscles flexed as he gripped the wok and spatula.
The times when, long exposed to the heat, a bead of sweat from his brow traced down to the tip of his chin—she'd caught herself forgetting the orders and just staring at him vacantly.
She'd managed her expression in case she'd been caught, but whether it was the flare range's roaring flames or not, her face burned.
Urrrgh...
Anyway, being beside him made her feel oddly at ease.
Which was why even that day when she'd gone with him to Lilyan, she'd ended up in his bed...
"Uurrghk..."
Just imagining it made her face flush red.
For Andrea, who had been alone for a very long time, feeling this kind of emotion toward another person was deeply unfamiliar.
An elf still clumsy with feelings she couldn't yet precisely name, she didn't even quite understand why she was blushing.
But.
She did know this much: she wanted him to praise only her, to cook only for her, to aim that kind smile at her and no other woman.
If he hires a new employee, there'll be more women around.
And if there were more women, there'd definitely be more women trying to flirt with him, too.
There were plenty already.
Hadn't that customer named Michelle been making passes at Lucas not long ago?
And look how hard she'd been working to block that.
Even Bldi was clinging to the boss and showed no intention of letting go.
We cannot let the number of women increase.
She had to create an environment where no rival could approach.
Nip it at the source.
A rival for what, exactly?
Obviously, women pointlessly trying to seduce the Boss.
Why should I care?
I'm just an employee.
So I'm just going to block other women because I feel at ease beside the Boss?
Stop lying, Andrea.
That's not what you really feel.
Think honestly. The reason you want to cook together with the Boss.
The voice inside Andrea asked.
Don't bother denying your own heart, it told her.
Be honest.
Do I... the Boss...
Like him?
Me, who's never even liked another elf of my own species—like a human?
But the Boss is stronger than other elves... and he's good-looking... and he's an amazing cook, and he's not one of those foolish humans who only eat vegetables.
She looked at Lucas.
The moment their eyes met, she felt her face catch fire.
Ah.
I think I really do like the Boss.
Chewing her lip, Andrea looked at Lucas with sudden resolve.
"U-um, Boss."
"Hm?"
"I actually think it might be fine if I don't go into the kitchen after all."
"What?"
"I'll keep doing the floor serving, so you absolutely must not hire a female employee. Understood?"
"...Why the sudden change?"
"They say a woman's heart is as fickle as a reed, don't they? Isn't that right?"
"..."
"So absolutely! You have to keep only me as your female employee! Got it?"
"What about Bldi?"
"Bldi is... an exception."
Andrea looked at Lucas, who was bewildered by her sudden caprice, and flashed a grin.
For some reason, it felt like she'd won.
***
"Lord Bellosa has fled south."
"South? Do we know where exactly?"
"That, we do not. Only that he was heading south."
"I see."
Princess Diana turned her gaze to Mikkelson—the Tower Master of the magic Tower and a great mage who had accompanied her expedition.
"Is this man telling the truth?"
"He is. There is no falsehood."
Mikkelson, who had been casting a lie-detection spell, inclined his head.
"Saintess?"
"It's the truth. Magi from the Demon King flows out of him, but he did not lie."
Amelia nodded as well.
Hearing the absolute judgments of mages from two different disciplines, Princess Diana's lips curled upward.
"Bellosa may well have fed you lies... but for now, I'll choose to believe you."
"Th-then you'll spare me?"
"Yes. I'll spare you. But you will not live comfortably."
"Pardon?"
"We'll have to extract every last bit of that curse nesting in your body."
Her eyes moved to the Saintess.
"Send him to the Heresy Inquisitors. Drain the magi from this wretch until he repents completely. I don't care how many years it takes."
"Understood."
The Heresy Inquisitors.
To Demon King worshipers, that name was synonymous with the grim reaper himself.
Ruthless men who would stop at nothing to make worshipers repent.
Men who would crush a skull and declare that since the mouth used for worship was now gone, this, too, was repentance—that was the Heresy Inquisitors for you.
"N-no... Y-you said you'd spare me!"
"I will spare you. I shall keep that promise. But surely you understand I cannot permit you to go on living as a worshiper of the Demon King?"
"Urrgh..."
"Be grateful for my mercy, worshiper. Were it solely up to me, I'd have had you torn limb from limb."
"Gyaaah! Please, spare me, Your Highness!"
Diana did not look back as she strode away.
"Commander Luke."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I'll leave half the subjugation force behind. Coordinate with fifty knights of the Imperial Princess Order and see to it that the entire surrounding area is cleaned out."
Meaning: wipe out every last Demon King worshiper in the vicinity.
Commander Luke bowed his head.
"As you command."
"The rest will hunt down Lord Bellosa. We move as swiftly as possible. Enough time has passed since he fled—we'll likely have a hard march ahead of us."
Princess Diana spurred her horse south.
Toward the south, where Lord Bellosa had fled.