Winter, the Season of Appetite
People often call autumn the season of fattened horses under high skies, the season that summons appetite.
Karem could not agree.
For him, the season that truly summoned appetite was winter.
It had been the same in his previous life and in this one.
Then again, he liked eating year-round, so maybe it was just a feeling.
Still, the moment winter arrived he found himself craving piping-hot, crisp bungeoppang, soft flower-shaped pastries gone a little limp as they cooled, and bowls of steaming broth that settled deep into the body.
There was still plenty of time before he had to prepare Catherine’s lunch, which meant plenty of time to indulge in hunger-soaked daydreams.
With nothing else to do for the moment, Karem sat by the window sipping Alrune’s Tear—the coffee-mix-style brew he had improvised—and blankly watched the snow pouring down outside while Mary and the other servants shoveled it clear around Winterhome and the inner castle.
“I want bungeoppang.”
It was only natural for the thought to surface so suddenly.
He took another sip.
Making bungeoppang did not require anything grand: batter, sweet red-bean paste, oil, and a pair of fish-shaped molds.
For the filling, simmering peas with sugar and mashing them would serve well enough as a substitute. Oil was far more abundant than last year. The molds he could simply commission from the same blacksmith who had taken custom orders before. The batter, though…
Karem drained another mouthful of Alrune’s Tear from his cup.
How do you even make bungeoppang batter?
In his previous life he had never needed to wonder. Every autumn and winter the supermarkets sold pre-mixed powder already blended in the perfect ratio—why bother making it from scratch?
He clicked his tongue. Maybe he should have paid a little more attention back then. Still, thinking it over, he did not have to puzzle long.
Pancake batter. Thin it out a bit and it should work.
If he remembered right, the batter the street vendors—grandmothers and grandfathers at their bungeoppang stalls—used had that same loose consistency.
Of course it could not be too thin, not when you poured batter, added filling, poured more batter on top, clamped the mold shut, and flipped it while it cooked.
Just adjust the sugar and it would make excellent bungeoppang.
Once he started thinking about bungeoppang, other dishes crowded into his head as if begging to be eaten too: flower-shaped pastries like chrysanthemum bread, sweet chewy hotteok, hot toast stuffed with cabbage and egg, and bowls of steaming banquet noodles that went down one after another without effort.
He slurped the last of his drink.
“Mm. All gone. Hm?”
Karem smacked his lips in mild regret and glanced out the window again.
Through the thick curtain of heavy snowflakes a small figure was drawing closer.
The figure coming from the main keep apparently failed to notice Mary, who was busy building snow walls, and simply walked past her toward the Mage’s Tower.
Well, standing inside a snow wall, it was only natural she would be hard to spot.
Even if the visitor never found Mary it hardly mattered. An audience request could be made just as easily to the duty mage on the first-floor lobby.
There was no need to go through Mary.
And certainly no need to involve Karem, who was only a cook.
Or rather, still a servant-slash-cook.
He could have stayed right where he was, dangling his legs on the windowsill and idling away the time without a care.
But I’m bored. Might as well go hear what they came for.
After a brief moment of hesitation he tipped the last few drops of Alrune’s Tear from the empty cup into his mouth and stood.
I’ll just take a look, and while I’m at it, pour myself another cup.
Unlike the recent days when the tower had shaken from a massive explosion, the Mage’s Tower had grown remarkably quiet of late. No more exploding pots, no more crashes of things shattering.
Maybe the repair costs knocked some sense into them and they’ll stay quiet for a while.
The cost of rebuilding collapsed rooms.
The expense of restoring destroyed security and trap magic.
All the tools and materials lost in the blast…
Catherine and Olivier might not have chewed the culprits out in spectacular fashion, but being scolded by one’s superiors still made people careful.
And Catherine and Olivier were no ordinary superiors.
They were something unclassifiable—customary noble rank, company president, and university professor all rolled into one, and there were two of them. After causing an accident in front of beings like that, of course the mages would be walking on eggshells.
That was why the tower had been so quiet lately.
Once the cooldown ended, the usual ruckus would return soon enough.
“Still, it’s almost too quiet. Hard to get used to.”
In the midst of all that silence the only place still producing noise was Narke’s laboratory.
He had no idea what was going on in there, but the blatant clattering and the occasional crash of toppling objects kept catching his ear.
Not that I’m curious enough to actually ask.
If it had been anything serious, Catherine would have shut it down already. Or Olivier would have taken some measure.
He reached the first-floor lobby.
“Ah, Karem.”
Aman, the duty mage sitting at the reception desk, lifted a hand in casual greeting. The fine black robe he wore over his shirt fluttered lightly.
“What brings you down? Looking for Mary?”
“No. I saw a guest approaching through the window.”
“A guest?”
“Yes. They should be arriving any moment.”
Thud—thud—someone knocked, then pushed the door open. A maid bundled in thick clothing stepped inside along with a swirl of heavy snow and immediately shut the door behind her.
Karem stayed put and simply watched the maid approach the lobby desk.
“Welcome to the Mage’s Tower even in this cold weather. What is the purpose of your visit? A commission request? Item rental? An audience?”
“Good day. I have come on behalf of the Duchess Felwinter to inquire about a time when she might spend a while with Atanitas, the Supreme Magic Advisor.”
Aman paused for a beat.
“Hm. The Duchess wishes to schedule a meeting?”
“Yes. Not a commission or consultation—simply conversation and perhaps some refreshments, if that is possible.”
“Then I should check the schedule first.”
Schedule? As far as Karem knew, Catherine had no urgent appointments left after yesterday; she had said she would finish every backlog of work the moment her cold cleared.
Only long-term commissions remained, or so he had thought.
Aman confirmed it by glancing over Catherine’s official schedule parchment and nodded.
“She has no particular appointments. Any time would be fine. As for the hour the Duchess prefers—”
“She wishes to meet as soon as possible.”
“Hm…”
At the maid’s words Karem felt Aman’s gaze shift toward him. His own response was simple.
“I’ll go up and ask.”
“I feel a little bad asking the moment you come downstairs.”
“It’s only been a minute. Just have her sit there for a bit.”
Karem turned around and climbed the stairs he had just descended.
Not long ago the climb all the way to Catherine’s top-floor office would have taken forever, but thanks to assorted gods, people, and curses his limbs had stretched long and lanky.
Bounding up two or three steps at a time, he barely felt winded.
“These damn stairs. Still can’t get used to them.”
Not that he liked stairs.
Even in his previous life Karem had hated stairs.
More precisely, he had loathed them.
In an age without advanced technology he could have understood. Animal power existed, but you could hardly build escalators with oxen and horses.
But when technology existed, when escalators and elevators were already installed for all to see, what possible reason was there to use stairs?
Of course, creating anything similar in Europa would require magic tools—and a small fortune.
Karem did not actually expect Catherine to accept the suggestion. If it worked, great; if not, he would simply shrug and move on.
“Might as well poke the sour grapes—later!”
Reaching the top, Karem caught his breath for a moment and knocked on the office door.
“Lady Atanitas. May I come in?”
“I don’t mind. Enter.”
Karem opened the door. Catherine sat perched on the edge of her desk, rolling a ring this way and that across a magic circle she had spread open in one hand while scanning a parchment with the other.
“The Duchess Felwinter sent someone. She wants to talk over something to eat.”
“What? The Duchess?”
“Yes. You’re not particularly busy, right?”
“Any urgent or overdue work was finished ages ago.”
Catherine set the parchment aside and flicked her fingers lightly. The magic circle vanished; she snagged the floating ring out of the air.
“What is that ring, anyway?”
“A protective ring for you, kid.”
“…I thought you’d given up on that.”
“And whose fault do you think that is?!”
Catherine’s eyes blazed; she fired an icicle. The pale-blue projectile streaked toward him, only to lose all force the instant it touched his body and drop to the floor, shattering. The effect of the holy relic.
“You were so confident because of that relic, and then what? You took it off yourself and made everything worse?! Before that—who in their right mind treats a precious holy relic so carelessly?!”
“Well, aside from a few side effects I’m perfectly fine, so—”
“Is that supposed to be an excuse?!”
More magical icicles followed in rapid succession and fell harmlessly to the floor.
He never even felt them touch him, yet Karem had nothing to say.
Every word of Catherine’s furious tirade was correct.
“So? Any excuses left? Let’s hear them.”
“No. No excuses. I’m sorry.”
“Good.”
As if that settled the matter, Catherine turned her head sharply and swept her disheveled golden hair back over her shoulder.
“So, when should we schedule it?”
“Did the messenger mention a specific time?”
“She said they want to set a time as soon as possible. Just chat and have some snacks together.”
“So it’s simply a social call?”
Nothing important or urgent remained on her plate, so there was no reason to refuse. Catherine rolled the ring between her fingers a moment longer, then nodded.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
“What time should I set?”
“She said as soon as possible?”
“That’s what the maid waiting downstairs said.”
At that, Catherine placed the ring on the desk and rose from her seat.
“Then we should meet soon.”
“You’re not thinking of going right this second, are you?”
“No, that would be too soon.”
Dropping in without giving the other party even a moment to prepare would simply be rude.
“After lunch would be good.”
“Today’s lunch?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll pass that along, then.”
Karem started for the door.
“Ah, wait. While you’re at it, prepare some snacks along with lunch. And—”
Catherine flicked her fingers. A moment later Mary, already dressed in thick outdoor clothes, appeared with a soft pop.
“Contractor. You called?”
“Yes. I have an engagement after lunch.”
“Is that so?”
“While the kid prepares the snacks, you help me get ready and tidy my appearance.”
“Understood… wait.”
Mary, who had been about to obey as always, halted unnaturally.
“While I attend to the Contractor, Junior Karem will be preparing the snacks?”
“Well. That’s how it turned out.”
“No, wai—”
Karem closed the door before he could hear the rest.