The Time to Decide Has Come

Things were unfolding a little differently from the scene I remembered in the novel.

"Master?"

The Perdes knights' eyes went wide when they looked at me.

"Is it really Lancelot?"

Seriously? They're asking if I'm Lancelot?

Give me a break.

Sure, I've been through some things, but I'm still a fresh-faced twenty-something restaurant owner.

These guys just say whatever they want.

"Impossible. Lancelot is known to be a knight past his sixtieth year. Unless he's de-aged himself through some transformative sorcery, he couldn't look like that."

The captain shook his head as he looked at me.

At least someone still had his wits about him.

"Young master, as I said earlier, the Duke has..."

"I'm not changing my mind. Get out. Now."

Ivan's obstinate words shut everyone up.

"If you won't get out, I'll cut you down."

Damn. That's the Ivan from the original novel, personality copy-pasted right out of the pages.

Of course, it would've looked a lot cooler if the blade he'd brandished wasn't a kitchen knife.

Too bad the only thing within reach was the kitchen knife.

"Young master!"

"Get out."

"...Our apologies, but we cannot withdraw either."

"What?"

"If we return without you, the Duke will not leave us be."

The knights had tempers ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of their own.

Shing!

The captain drew his sword and held it out toward Ivan.

"Then kill us. We cannot return to the Duke's house without you, young master."

"......."

Whoa. He's putting his neck on the line, telling Ivan to strike?

Knights of Duke Perdes, every bit as stubborn as their master.

These were the same knights who'd shown their steely resolve in the novel. I could feel their determination — they'd rather break than bend.

Tsk.

Man, I really want some popcorn right now.

I waited to hear what Ivan would say.

'Fine. I suppose I ought to see the Duke's face at least once.'

Would he soften up like that?

'I'll consult my master. Wait here.'

Would he defer to Lancelot's judgment?

With how differently things were going from the novel, I couldn't see even one step ahead.

Ivan's glare shifted away from the knights and came to rest on me.

"Master, what should we do?"

Huh? Why are you asking me?

I blinked at him, and Ivan opened his mouth as if it were the most natural procedural step.

"If I must cut them down here, it would mean fouling the shop with their dirty blood, so I should ask your permission beforehand."

The way he casually talked about cutting off heads — that was Ivan, all right.

At those words, the Perdes knights, sword still drawn, flinched.

They probably never thought he'd actually consider killing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them.

If I said they looked like pitiful puppies, I suppose that would be an insult.

"Do you need your master's advice, or do you need the restaurant owner's permission to clear the place?"

"...Both. To be honest, I don't yet know precisely how I feel."

"Commander Lancelot is also your master."

"Master Lancelot is my master, but Master Lucas is equally my master. I apologize to Master Lancelot, but I thought it right to seek advice from the one closest at hand."

"...Hmm."

So, basically, whatever I said would decide the fate of these knights and Ivan.

I looked at the knights facing off against Ivan, sword drawn.

Unlike the captain who'd braced himself for death, his subordinates were trembling like leaves.

Because the knights couldn't attack Ivan, but Ivan could certainly attack them.

Even with the numbers, they were at a disadvantage.

Besides.

Now that they knew I, standing beside Ivan, was a knight, they couldn't afford any rash moves.

'Seeing them like this, they're a little pitiful.'

They hadn't run rampant in my restaurant.

All they'd done was open the door a bit roughly, ignore Andrea when she told them it was break time, and act however they pleased.

Now that I think about it, that actually pisses me off.

Who the hell do you think you are, disrespecting my employee?

The knights, meeting my eyes, averted their gazes.

Was this what it felt like when the tables turned?

Not bad.

"There's no need to kill them."

"Is that so? Then I'll just chase them out."

"Young master!"

The Perdes knights called out at the top of their lungs.

"Speaking as the restaurant owner — this is still a restaurant. Wouldn't it be a little too cold-hearted to simply chase off people who came all the way here?"

I spoke as I looked at the knights.

"We should at least treat them to a meal."

"Even so, causing trouble for you, Master, on account of uninvited guests..."

"They're your guests, so how could I be the one to serve them?"

"Surely not."

"You'll be the one to do it."

"May I?"

I nodded.

Of course, when I'd cooked the jeyuk bokkeum earlier, my seasoning control had been a little disappointing — but that was simply disappointing for serving to a guest. Compared to ordinary home cooking, it had been pretty decent.

"You've got to keep practicing at times like this."

"Understood."

Steeling his resolve, Ivan nodded and stepped into the kitchen.

"What'll the menu be?"

"I plan to make Pog Gukbap. Not with sagol broth, but a clear broth made by boiling brisket. What do you think?"

"Nice choice."

It was a fitting dish to wager on, a meal for travelers who'd journeyed a long way.

The knights, caught utterly off guard by the sudden turn of events, looked back and forth between Ivan and me with dumbfounded expressions.

"...What in the world is this?"

When they saw Ivan start chopping ingredients with the kitchen knife, they couldn't hide their horror.

"How dare you put the young master of House Perdes to work!"

The captain shouted at me.

I rapped his impertinent forehead with a ladle.

Thwack!

A sound you'd never believe came from a ladle rang out, and—

"Urgh!"

The captain's body toppled backward.

I'd barely tapped him, and he went down that dramatically?

What a drama queen.

"Just sit still and watch. This is me calming him down after he was ready to kill every last one of you."

"......."

"Do you think you can lay a hand on a knight of House Perdes and get away with it?"

"Well, weren't you about to lay hands on Perdes's illegitimate son?"

"Wh-what!"

I stared down the insolent knight who'd kept running his mouth.

For all his bold talk, he couldn't move a single step from that spot.

Of course he couldn't — I'd just taken down his captain with nothing but a ladle.

'They're way too weak for the reputation of House Perdes.'

Illegitimate son or not, how do you bring such a pathetic man as your leader?

You're going to drag Ivan back with this crew?

In the novel, Ivan had listened to Lancelot and gone along quietly, so they'd been spared. Otherwise, they would've been annihilated on the spot.

I watched Ivan in the kitchen, working the wok in that awkward stance of his.

He'd improved tremendously compared to that time he was practically making love to the wok, but every now and then when his rhythm slipped, that old posture crept back in.

Ivan, the future romance fantasy male lead, now an aspiring chef with ambitions of one day making the greatest gukbap.

'You don't really need wok work for meat gukbap, though.'

Well, nothing's lamer than nitpicking when your student's actually doing the work, so I kept my mouth shut and watched him cook.

"Huh..."

"Why..."

It was also pretty entertaining to hear the knights' sighs as they watched Ivan awkwardly work the wok.

They looked ready to stop him at any moment, but likely because I'd knocked their captain unconscious with a ladle, they didn't dare step out of line.

I ignored them and approached Ivan, who was focused on his cooking.

"Ivan."

"Yes, Master."

"Like that man said, I think going to see your father once isn't a bad idea."

"Are you telling me to forgive him?"

I shook my head.

"I said go see him, not forgive him. Forgiveness is your choice. It's not my place to get involved."

"Then are you telling me to become the duke?"

"I'm not telling you to become Duke Perdes. If I were, I wouldn't have smacked those knights, and I wouldn't be approaching you so casually."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You must have questions for the man who abandoned his family, don't you? You could go to the capital and ask him yourself, couldn't you? Why he abandoned you and your mother. You can get angry after that. Sometimes, anger with a clear target and a clear reason can be far more potent than vague rage without a cause."

In the novel, Ivan never asked Duke Perdes those questions.

Why did you abandon me?

Why did you pretend my mother didn't exist?

He never got to hear Duke Perdes's answer; he learned the reason later through his diary.

Political reasons.

Perdes had thought of his single night with Ivan's mother, Sepone, his servant, as nothing more than an expression of desire.

But when he realized that Ivan, born as the mere result of that desire, not only surpassed his other children but also deeply resembled his own younger self with his black hair, he felt a profound satisfaction. Ivan, later, resented that the Duke had died before he could confront him.

It tormented him that he couldn't take revenge on the father who, to the very end, saw his mother as nothing but a vessel to produce him.

"How cruel it is that I couldn't kill that monster with my own hands."

The image of Ivan, pouring out his grief over his mother's death and his resentment toward his father in Monica's arms, was still vivid.

"Think about it while you cook."

"What would you have done, Master?"

"Me?"

If I had been Ivan.

I'd thought about it several times whenever Ivan's past came up in the novel.

How would I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have dealt with the father who abandoned me and my mother?

If I'd been that child who lived his whole life hiding in the forest, not knowing the world, watching his mother agonize in terror, always afraid Perdes knights might appear at any moment...

"I think I would've slapped him across the face at least once."

"A slap?"

"It probably wouldn't change anything, but at least I'd feel better inside."

At the very least, my hand would have been able to deliver my mother's pent-up anger.

"I see. Understood. I'll give it some thought."

Leaving Ivan to refocus on his cooking, I walked over to the knights.

"......Ugh..."

The captain, who'd come to a little later, looked at Ivan, who was still cooking.

"Y-young master! What in the world..."

"Quiet. You're disturbing the cooking."

His eyes turned to me, and—

He pressed his lips shut.

It seemed he wasn't keen on getting hit again.

Good, because I'm not keen on denting this ladle any further.

Sizzle!

I glanced at Ivan, who was concentrating on his cooking, then pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the captain, who still hadn't gotten up.

"Let's talk."

"I have nothing to say."

"Depending on how you respond, I might decide whether or not I can help you. So shut up and sit."

"What?"

"How about sending your men outside? I think there are things you and I should discuss alone."

"...I said I have nothing to say."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I doubt this is something your men would enjoy hearing."

I was warning him, essentially.

"The reason Duke Perdes is only now seeking out his illegitimate son — it's because his current children don't measure up, isn't it? Both the eldest and the second are utterly disappointing. Am I wrong?"

"......."

"You don't have to answer. I'm not asking because I need a reply."

The captain, meeting my eyes, turned around to face his subordinates.

"Step outside for a moment."

"Captain!"

"Step outside!"

Reading the captain's mood, the knights shuffled out in a group.

"Andrea."

"Yes, boss."

"Carry Bldi and step out for a bit."

"Okay."

Not that they couldn't hear us just by stepping outside, but we might as well keep up appearances.

Only after Andrea left, carrying Bldi — who'd been nodding off in the shade — on her back did the captain speak.

"Who are you?"

Suddenly he's being polite.

Wouldn't it have been nice if he'd started like this?

"Making a fuss over information anyone with eyes and ears in the capital would know."

It wasn't exactly wrong.

The fact that Duke Perdes found his own children unsatisfactory was a well-known story in noble circles, after all.

He was just flustered because he hadn't expected to hear it from someone running a restaurant out in the countryside like me.

"Duke Perdes seems to think the First Prince will fall short in this race for crown prince. The fact that he's trying to change the succession picture suggests as much."

"......."

That, too, was material from the original work.

After all, he'd summoned Ivan right after Princess Diana was formally installed as Crown Princess.

The fact that they'd come here...

'Means Princess Diana's investiture as Crown Princess is all but confirmed.'

I'd told Ivan lightly to cook them a meal, but my advice had come from careful deliberation.

I was weighing whether it would be better for Ivan to stay here or to head to the capital.

It was absurd that I was the one agonizing over his problems, but—

'He needs to go to the capital at least once.'

Whether he comes back here after that, or settles down as Ivan Perdes, I'll leave that to him.

But at the very ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠least, he needed a moment that would sear into his heart the fact that he is a Perdes.

You need to know your roots.

The reason Ivan in the novel had been able to flee to the Perdes territory in the end was because Duke Perdes had officially registered him as his son.

Who knows what might happen in the future?

That's why Ivan needs at least the minimum of a foundation laid for him.

Ivan going to the capital was also for my sake.

'If, by the slimmest of chances, Princess Diana really does become a tyrant, just running away won't be enough to escape.'

If that happened, I would need allies to protect me, too.

Whether that ended up being Ivan Perdes or Duke Perdes, I couldn't say.

'I should hedge my bets a little, just in case the worst happens.'

It was true that Camilla was a brilliant head of her merchant group, but she couldn't stop a tyrant by herself.

I don't know how much interest they'd take in the words of a frontier restaurant owner, but if that restaurant's backing was the Golden Wagon Merchant Group, the conversation would change.

"Ivan will go to the capital. But showing up empty-handed wouldn't be great, would it?"

"What do you want?"

"Let's fill our bellies first."

Before I knew it, Ivan had finished the clear pork gukbap, bubbling away in its earthenware pot, and carried out the tray.

"Eat."

Ivan set the tray down brusquely.

But contrary to his gruff tone, the pork gukbap was steaming hot.

***

"Child, I have returned from the expedition."

"You have done well, Daughter."

Emperor Friedrich II looked upon Diana with unmistakable pride — she who had not only subjugated the Demon King worshippers but had also captured every last one of their collaborators alive and brought them back.

"With the Crown Princess's exploits, the Empire's prestige shall grow all the stronger."

Not only had she resolved the near-assassination of the Saintess by the Demon King worshippers, she had also secured the complete support of the Order. Through that, she'd achieved the great martial merit of subjugating the Demon King worshippers.

Though she lacked the backing of the nobles, that was a trifling matter.

"Now the time has come."

Friedrich II swept his gaze across the assembled retainers in the grand hall.

Then his eyes met Princess Diana, who was looking up at him from the center.

"We have made firm our decision. We hereby declare this day: the Second Princess Diana is suited to the position of Crown Princess. The heir who shall become the next emperor is Crown Princess Diana."

The Emperor's declaration.

At those words, the entire hall froze.

"Long live His Majesty the Emperor! Long live! Long live!"

"Long live Her Highness the Crown Princess Diana! Long live! Long live!"

As all praised the Emperor and the Crown Princess, there was one person who, alone, could not smile.

That was Prince Zenon, the one who had enjoyed the nobles' support.