I Am Curious About That Secret
Roen Lacroix was a man keenly sensitive to information.
Since time immemorial, the merchant class had thrived on turning knowledge into coin; for him, this was simply advanced training. From rumors gathered while strolling the academy grounds to confidential reports delivered by informants he kept on retainer, he collected nearly every scrap of intelligence that came within reach. Whether it proved useful was a judgment for later.
Among the mountain of data he amassed, the name of an academy student rarely appeared more than once—except for royalty. Even so, one name kept surfacing with unusual frequency.
Off campus, at a rundown eatery: Carmilla confronts a Goddess Church attendant.
Opening day of term, cafeteria: Carmilla makes contact with the Crown Prince.
Second-year classroom: Carmilla challenges a second-year to a duel; outcome unknown.
"Carmilla de Valin… what on earth is that girl up to?"
It was a name he knew. More accurately, it was a name he could not possibly forget. She was the first student to extract an investment from him inside the academy, proving both bold ideas and commercial talent. He had already known she was no ordinary girl, but discovering a trail this conspicuous only sharpened his curiosity about her intentions.
"Maybe I should pay her a visit…"
He had a perfectly good pretext. She had wanted to open a restaurant, and he had put up the money. With the cafeteria fare growing ever more wretched, demand for real flavor was bound to rise—a sound analysis. Impressed by her clear-eyed reading of the market, Roen had, uncharacteristically, offered the investment first.
From the reports trickling in, the place seemed to be running well enough. Yet he had never once dropped by in person. So arriving under the banner of "just checking how the new business is doing" would sound entirely natural.
"Oh, looks like they're properly open for business."
He set a date, showed up unannounced—and immediately smelled something extremely dangerous.
More precisely, the dense, sharp scent of Flame Herb.
Is this woman trying to build a bomb?
It was Carmilla herself who drove the spike into Roen's alarming imagination.
"Ah, Roen. How fortunate that you have come at just the right moment."
While he struggled to maintain a calm façade, she approached carrying a plate of something unidentifiable. For all the serene elegance of her tone, the thing on the plate glowed a vivid, alarming red.
What… is that supposed to be?
It did not look like food. While Roen stood frozen, debating how to react, Carmilla beamed and held it out.
"Do try a bite of this."
Ah. So it is food?
Before he could even finish composing a polite refusal, the bright-red something was thrust upon him. From hand to mouth. Without the slightest chance to decline, Carmilla slipped a piece between his lips, eyes sparkling with expectation.
"Aww, no fair! Luca wants another bite too!"
"That will not do, Luca. Roen is the investor of our establishment; he has every right to share the meal."
An unfamiliar aroma, an unfamiliar taste, and a thoroughly incomprehensible situation. Under ordinary circumstances Roen would have demanded an explanation. But he was a man who could discard his own comfort whenever necessity required.
First, from their conversation, he grasped that they regarded this as "food." Reasonable enough—this was a restaurant; they were supposed to make things one could eat. The only real deterrent was the unmistakable scent of Flame Herb, a plant no sane person would consider edible. Fortunately, within his knowledge Flame Herb was non-lethal. Eating it would not kill him.
Even so, knowing that a mouthful of Flame Herb powder would sting like fire, the fact that he began to chew was an act of considerable courage. To keep the atmosphere natural, one absolutely must not refuse or spit out a dish the host has prepared. Therefore, the critical task of the moment was to maintain composure and swallow the thing. Roen resolved to deploy his trademark equanimity to the fullest.
Fortunately, courage is sometimes rewarded.
"Mmm… hmm… oh?"
Inside the vegetable slicked with that mysterious seasoning lay boiled meat. The fatty richness gently tempered the piercing heat of the Flame Herb, and the harmony was not at all bad. Roen found he could, after all, classify it as cuisine.
No—more than that. It was surprisingly good. If he had to choose a side, he leaned toward "tasty."
Is Carmilla's cooking skill simply that high… or is this dish genuinely delicious…?
The question had no clear answer, yet in the end he had no choice but to admit the truth.
"Huh. It's actually pretty good in a normal way."
"Fufu. Just as I thought—fresh kimchi with boiled pork is a combination that wins over anyone. Proof complete!"
Whether or not she knew the serious internal debate he had just endured, Carmilla's proud little smile left Roen with thoroughly mixed feelings.
"So, what were you working on?"
"Ah. I was recreating a dish from my hometown. Being so far from home, both ingredients and conditions were rather poor… but somehow it turned out all right."
"I see. So in Carmilla's hometown they eat Flame Herb."
The de Valin family was, as far as he recalled, a house of the kingdom. Did such a custom really exist in that famously conservative realm? The question flickered through his mind, but—
"Oh my, now that I think of it, you arrived without any notice… Did you have some business with me?"
"Ah, I was just wondering what you'd been up to lately. Looks like the restaurant is doing well?"
That was not the important point right now. He had to stay true to his original purpose. From the beginning he had come to learn why Carmilla was leaving such a conspicuous trail.
"Fufu… Just recently I successfully secured the Crown Prince as a customer, and I also befriended a senior skilled in ice magic and built a refrigerator, so one might say we are sailing smoothly!"
"Oh? I'm curious what that 'securing' involved."
"He rather took a liking to my sandwiches, so I pack him a lunchbox in place of those dreadful cafeteria meals… Thanks to that I earn a full ten gold a month, and after subtracting ingredient costs the profit margin is quite impressive!"
"Wow."
Carmilla rattled off her recent affairs with unmistakable confidence. From the conversation Roen extracted several pieces of information. That she had made contact with the Crown Prince appeared, on the surface, to be nothing more than a bid to boost shop sales… but if the "sales pitch" had succeeded, that changed everything.
Honestly. The Crown Prince actually agreed to that?
Of late the Empire's political climate had grown extremely unstable. After a string of conquests the imperial family sat atop vast wealth, and the court had become a stage for schemes and power plays aimed at that fortune. Even inside the academy, anyone of imperial blood had every reason to fear poison. For safety's sake the cafeteria fare would have been preferable—yet he had entrusted his lunches to Carmilla. What did that imply?
Has this girl somehow won the Crown Prince's trust?
"Ah, yes. Allow me to show you what a refrigerator is."
Before he could pursue the question, Carmilla was already introducing him to another unfamiliar object.
"A refrigerator, you say…?"
"Heehee. You will understand once you see it."
Second-year. Ice magic. From those two keywords alone Roen could deduce a single person.
Silvia von Espen.
A rising star of ice magic who had endured harsh training for the revival of the recently weakened Espen house. All he knew of her was that she was an ambitious woman who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals…
How on earth had this girl ended up dueling such a formidable figure?
"Ta-da! If you place ingredients in here, they will not spoil. I sweet-talked Senior Silvia into making it some time ago, and its performance is truly excellent."
Staring at the chest that genuinely radiated cold air, Roen only accumulated more questions.
Sweet-talked her, huh…
What exactly had she done during that duel?
To Roen, the image of someone who had fought a duel then peacefully collaborating on an invention simply would not form. He had come to resolve one mystery and was now leaving with several new ones… yet one thing had become clear.
This girl was casually approaching the powerhouses of every faction and winning their favor.
…How is that even possible?
For Roen, such a feat was a grueling examination that required clearing countless hurdles. Only after one's value had been recognized through the upper class's endless intent-reading and cost-benefit calculations could one finally be accepted as someone worth associating with. And yet Carmilla was attaching herself to such talents in the blink of an eye.
While he pondered what secret technique she might possess, Carmilla said something rather unexpected.
"Well, that concludes my recent affairs… Now then, Roen, it is your turn to tell me of yours."
"My affairs?"
"Yes. Since you were kind enough to inquire after my well-being, it is only proper that I inquire after yours in return."
She tilted her head, expression openly curious. Looking at her, Roen felt as though he finally understood.
She's harmless.
Come to think of it, from their very first meeting until now, Carmilla's attitude had been consistent. She cooked because she was hungry. She cooked for people who were hungry. When she met someone she was glad to see, the first thing she did was feed them. Her common sense might be a little lacking, but her operating principle was easy to grasp.
She was the sort of person who, upon seeing someone hungry, simply wanted to give them something to eat.
This girl lives in a world completely opposite to mine.
So even asking after his recent affairs was nothing more than the desire to look after a nearby acquaintance—
an utterly harmless intention.
At that realization, Roen understood. How comfortable it was to deal with a person who wore no pretense.
And so, without meaning to, he smiled. Not the false smile polished with artifice and self-interest, but one that rose from genuine feeling.
"Don't even get me started. Apparently our class's homeroom teacher got injured."
"Oh my, is that truly so?"
"Yeah. So we got a replacement, and…"
As they exchanged trivial conversation, a thought suddenly struck him.
For the first time, he was glad he had come to St. Celestia Academy.