I Missed Lucas Even More
I Missed Lucas Even More
'Ramyun soup alone won't make this go away anymore.'
Now Crown Princess, Diana often wrestled with the headaches that plagued her.
She heard no strange voices tempting, threatening, or coaxing her—but Diana knew. The headaches were their harbinger.
The daily ramyun Camilla brought her no longer helped; the headaches tormented her as if the soup had lost all effect.
She consulted Saint Amelia about the problem, but Amelia only shook her head, equally in the dark.
—I shall search for any records of such a case.
Even healing with holy power did little to change anything.
While she was suffering through the headaches, Camilla brought a black-haired man to her, saying he had learned to cook from Lucas.
His name was Ivan.
A bastard son of House Perdes.
A man who had, by all accounts, kicked that position aside and walked away.
'He's got guts.'
Refusing that old man's offer couldn't have been easy.
But what piqued her interest was the fact that this man was Lucas's disciple.
So she accepted Camilla's transparently obvious proposal.
—You can be satisfied eating this man's cooking. I'll be taking Lucas.
Ridiculous.
The sheer nerve of her.
Setting aside Camilla's agenda, Diana was curious. What would Lucas's cooking taste like after all this time? Even if it was only his disciple's work, could it quiet the throbbing inside her skull?
"Thank you for the meal."
Diana lifted a chopstick-full of the jeyuk bokkeum Ivan had presented and took a bite.
"Ah...."
The spicy gochujang seasoning hit her tongue—familiar. It was the taste she knew.
—Here is your lunch. I heard you had a heavy workload, so I selected something to replenish your stamina. The spiciness should help relieve your stress.
Old memories surfaced.
The dish resembled the jeyuk bokkeum Lucas had made for her every day in so many ways.
The peppery seasoning, the pork belly with its perfect balance of fat and lean meat that no one else in the empire seemed to get right, the onion and green onion layered between the meat, and the sauce, thick enough to mix into rice and still cling to every grain.
'He really did learn from him.'
Camilla hadn't just dragged in some nobody to distract her. That much was certain.
"How is the taste?"
Ivan, the man who had brought out the dish, asked with a slightly tense expression.
Before he'd served the food, he had seemed every inch the cold-blooded knight. Watching him fumble for her approval now, Diana caught a strangely familiar quality. Something about it reminded her of Lucas.
'Like master, like disciple, I suppose?'
Similarities in demeanor aside, however, Ivan's cooking left a lot to be desired compared to what Lucas used to make.
The meat tasted subtly dry to the bite—perhaps the searing had been off—and the onion and green onion hadn't quite melded into the dish.
That was by Crown Princess Diana's standards, mind you.
If Ivan were invited to serve as a chef in another noble household and presented this dish there, he would likely be showered with praise.
But Diana had dined on the empire's finest delicacies every day at the Imperial Palace, and through her formative years she had eaten Lucas's cooking. To her palate, the dish fell short.
Yet the seasoning—the seasoning alone carried Lucas's flavor.
It was good.
Quite good.
And that was exactly why she missed Lucas so much more.
Maybe it was because she'd already lost him.
She had never imagined his absence would ache this much.
'I was a fool. Such a fool.'
The instant she thought back to the dishes he had cooked for her in the past, her mouth began watering again.
But that was a separate matter.
"Strange."
She looked down at the jeyuk bokkeum Ivan had prepared.
The headache had eased a little.
Not vanished—not entirely—but it had subsided, the same way it had the first time she ever ate ramyun.
Her temples still throbbed, but the pain was now perfectly bearable.
"You say you learned from Sir Lucas?"
"That's correct. His Lordship taught me personally."
"Then allow me one question."
Ivan bowed his head in acknowledgment.
"Is there something particular about Lucas's cooking process?"
"...Are you asking me to divulge my master's secret techniques?"
"If it sounded that way, forgive me. The intent of my question is not to pry out hidden methods. There is something I've felt every time I've eaten Lucas's food. Unlike other cooks, his dishes seem to draw out an especially rich savory depth. I simply wished to ask whether he employs any unique technique."
Diana held her tongue about the unexplained headaches and the voice. The last thing the Crown Princess needed was news of a chronic ailment getting out.
Ivan considered her for a moment, then lowered his head.
"...The method is not something I can disclose, but there is indeed a certain technique."
"I thought so. So that's what it was."
Diana nodded, satisfied.
After eating Lucas's cooking—and now even his disciple's—a clarity settled over her that no other chef's work had ever brought her.
'I don't know what it entails, but Lucas is the only one who can resolve my headaches.'
Ivan's cooking alone could not produce that crisp, refreshing clarity Lucas's food had brought—that magic where her mind cleared and the world looked beautiful in an instant.
"Tasting your cooking, Sir Ivan, makes me want to race straight to wherever Sir Lucas is."
Diana genuinely felt the urge.
She wanted to lift herself out of her seat this instant, climb into a carriage, and go. If a carriage wouldn't do, then a horse.
Only one thing stopped her.
The First Prince, Zenon.
His existence.
That cunning brother of hers was unmistakably plotting something. He was the sort of man who would do anything to break out of this situation—nobles of his faction peeling away one by one—and claw his way back to the position of Crown Prince.
His ambition far outstripped his ability, after all.
'The sort of man who will never accept Father's choice to name me Crown Princess.'
Leaving the capital at a time like this was dangerous.
The danger wasn't to her.
'It's the people around me who would be in danger.'
Naturally, they were already hunting for evidence of the First Prince's scheming, so the matter would be resolved soon enough.
She turned her gaze to Ivan.
The food wasn't 100 percent satisfying. But the imprint of Lucas's hand was unmistakable. The seasoning was clearly his, and the use of his secret method confirmed it.
If she could not go to him herself—
'Then couldn't I summon him through this man?'
Lucas wasn't the type to refuse when his disciple asked for help. If she arranged for the disciple Ivan to send his master an urgent culinary request, Lucas would surely show his face in the capital at least once.
Her thoughts settled, she smiled and spoke.
"I would like to go to Lilyan, where Sir Lucas resides, but that isn't possible just now. Might I trouble you, Sir Ivan, to prepare my lunches for a while? You needn't provide breakfast or dinner. Only lunch, while I am at work."
To have him provide breakfast and dinner as well, she would have to bring Ivan into the White Moon Palace—her new palace as Crown Princess. The name came from how it floated aloofly like a white moon opposite the Emperor's Sun Palace.
To date, no chef had ever been admitted to the White Moon Palace.
Only one person would ever hold the title of the first chef to enter Crown Princess Diana's White Moon Palace.
Lucas.
She had left the position empty to keep it for him.
"Understood."
Princess Diana rose from her seat, her meal finished.
"The food was excellent. I shall entrust tomorrow's lunch to you as well. There are quarters for imperial staff; I'll arrange one for you."
"Thank you."
"No one from House Perdes will trouble you while you serve as my chef."
Ivan bowed deeply.
Getting to her feet, Diana spotted Amelia—lips pressed tight, staring at the empty dish that had held the jeyuk bokkeum.
"Saintess, Amelia. Amelia!"
"Y-yes! Yes? Wh-what is it, Sister?"
Whatever she'd been fixated on, Amelia's face was flushed bright red as she startled and looked up at Diana.
"We're finished eating. Let us return now. You still need to check my condition."
"Ah, yes, of course. I apologize. I was, um, spacing out for a moment."
"Not at all. You must be tired."
Diana departed for the palace with Amelia, whose state had been a touch odd.
Once Diana had gone,
Camilla looked at Ivan, who was now charged with Diana's lunches for the foreseeable future.
"Do you truly intend to stay here? The power of Golden Wagon can, at the very least, shield you from House Perdes's reach."
"I appreciate your kindness, but that won't be necessary. My master advised me that relying on the Imperial Household was the wiser course."
"If Sir Lucas said so, then I'm sure it's the right decision. If you ever need help, say the word."
"Thank you. Lady Camilla, when I return, I will convey your offered assistance to my master."
At that, Camilla's face flushed.
"A-ahem! Y-you can do that?"
"Of course. My master has always placed great trust and reliance in you."
"H-he does? In me? He said that?"
"Yes. He told me you are someone he can count on, and to seek your help."
"I see. W-was there... anything else?"
Ivan shook his head.
"He said nothing much beyond that."
Camilla felt a twinge of disappointment.
Being told he trusted and relied on her was all well and good, but she had been hoping for a different sort of compliment entirely.
For example—
'That I'm pretty....'
She jolted at her own inner thought, her hands flailing.
'Have I lost my mind? What am I thinking? I'm not some girl fresh off her debutante ball. What ridiculous nonsense.'
No.
Cancel that last thought—
'Still, it would be nice to hear him call me pretty....'
She was wrestling with her own inner voice when Riman's words snapped her back to the present.
"The presentation is complete. Starting tomorrow, we will begin selling the sparkling water in earnest."
"Ahem. I-I'll look forward to it, Riman."
"Of course. It's for my liege, after all."
"It would be nice if you'd put in a little effort for me, too. I am the one who saved you, you know."
"Naturally, I also hold Lady Camilla in the highest esteem."
Listening to Riman, now a completely different person, Camilla made her way out of the Imperial Palace.
The following day, the sparkling water officially launched among the nobility, and its popularity detonated across the imperial capital.
Sparkling water, cutting through the pervasive greasiness of imperial cuisine!
No one could resist the crisp, sweet effervescence that wiped the oil from the palate in a single sip.
The craze was so feverish that scalpers began appearing. Eradicating the resellers in the name of Golden Wagon was a hassle, but the profits were worth the trouble and more.
The names of alchemist Riman and dwarf engineer Blackbeard were etched into the imperial consciousness.
Meanwhile, in Britten—
"Well, this is a problem."
For the first time, Lucas found himself agonizing over a menu choice.