The Distinguished Uninvited Guest Coveting Custard Pudding
"Haa, I'm exhausted."
I think I've been scammed.
No—I've definitely been scammed.
The place was the break room, and it was snack time—meaning rest time. Under normal circumstances it would have been a precious chance to shake off fatigue for the afternoon's work. Catherine, however, had no such luxury. Even in the brief wait for snacks she was snatching moments to read through books and scrolls, jot notes, and combine materials.
Unconcealable exhaustion clung heavily to her face. After more than a week of all-nighters, it was only natural. Fabricating and repairing magical tools, brewing potions, reviewing books and documents, memorizing what was needed, surveying remaining warehouse stocks, and placing additional orders to match—the list of tasks overflowed.
Fine, the first three might be expected of her. The rest, however, were never work for a great mage of her caliber. Those were jobs for mages of lesser rank and skill, and that was how things ought to have been.
So why was she doing work she didn't have to?
The reason was simple.
"Damn it. I knew mages were scarce, but nonexistent?!"
Catherine slammed down the book she had been reading as a sudden surge of fury broke free.
Yes. Iceland was a land people already hesitated to visit for any reason beyond necessity; mages were no exception. Yet a rotting herring was still a herring—this was employment under a duke. The pay was not merely generous; it overflowed, and the treatment was of course first-class.
That there were still no people meant something was wrong.
No—the problem had already occurred.
The reason was simple.
I should have suspected first that the treatment was far too good.
They had answered a support request, gone on assignment, and simply vanished. Thus the exclusive mage of the household was now exactly one person: Catherine herself. And she desperately needed sleep.
What good was reaching the sage's realm and achieving agelessness if fatigue never disappeared?
"Haa… still, Mary said she was going to fetch the snacks. Just when is she coming back?"
The moment she thought of snacks, the migraine born of accumulated exhaustion slipped away like mist. Yes—snacks. The former serf boy named Karem whom she had hired almost on a whim had, without her noticing, become an indispensable part of her life.
Unable to leave the Mage's Tower because of work, she spent nights buried under documents and heaps of magical materials, crushed by tasks that never seemed to end. The only things that soothed her stress were delicious meals and sweet treats—from the familiar crisp-yet-soft tarts and pancakes she had always known to desserts she had never even seen before, like castella.
If she hadn't had even that outlet, she would have flipped the table long ago.
Truly.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three evenly spaced knocks sounded at the break-room door. Instantly Catherine's exhaustion-stained expression transformed into that of a child who had just spotted a mountain of sweets; she hastily reined in the excitement and restored her composure.
I can't make a spectacle of myself.
"Yes, come in at once!"
Click.
"Lady Catherine. You've worked hard again today."
"Contractor. I have brought the snacks."
Her personally hired exclusive chef and the brownie entered.
"Kitty! I'm here!"
And right behind them came a golden-haired little girl with delightfully plump cheeks, wrapped snugly in thick furs—
"Huh? Wait—Lady Alicia?!"
"Ehehe. That's right. It's Alicia."
As Catherine gaped, Mary nodded awkwardly.
"It seems she slipped in while avoiding the maids' eyes."
"…Prepare a place for her, for now."
Simply baking everything in the oven did not complete a custard pudding. The cooling process was every bit as crucial as baking it without scorching. Though finished, if inverted while still piping hot it risked collapsing into mush. A proper chilling stage was required—like skin shrinking in the cold, or water freezing below zero.
During that process the pudding inside its mold expanded, and the thin film of butter grease brushed along the cup's inner walls naturally helped push it free. Invert it onto a plate, give a gentle shake—
Plop—
"There. With this, the custard pudding is complete."
A jiggling pudding of soft pale-yellow light, crowned by a thick caramel sauce that had melted into its surface as though they had always been one. Sauce that had not yet fully blended slid like dawn mist across the pudding's glossy skin and pooled on the pure-white plate, forming a second layer beneath it.
"Ooooh! Can we eat it now?!"
"Yes, my lady. It is finished."
"H-how do I eat it?!"
"With this small spoon—"
Alicia moved before the sentence could finish. Like a predator snatching prey she snatched up the little spoon, scooped a generous corner, and carried it to her mouth. Until the caramel-laden pudding slipped past the young lady's lips as smoothly as water soaking into earth, Karem, Mary, and even Catherine—still cooling the remaining puddings—kept their eyes locked on her.
Whatever had become of the mage who had been grumbling about being casually worked to the bone by her employer?
Paying them no mind, Alicia closed her eyes and tasted with grave care. Then the eldest daughter of the Duke of Iceland stiffened as though struck by lightning and snapped her eyes open. Shock and pure delight shone together in both.
"Heavens! How can such an impossible texture even exist?!"
"Lady Alicia. How does it taste?"
Catherine's cool expression failed to hide the tension and expectation glittering in her eyes; the fingertips that still held cooling magic over the copper cup of pudding trembled with the urge to eat.
Alicia cut another piece and ate it again, as though she still could not quite believe the flavor and mouthfeel she had just experienced.
"The first touch against the lips was so moist and soft that comparing it to the gentlest filling of a custard tart feels almost insulting. But that was only the beginning."
"Only the beginning? What do you mean—"
"Surely the witch's sweets from the fairy tales Mama reads to me taste exactly like this. Heavens. It is positively tragic that the only things I can compare it to are cake, tart, and jam!"
The tiny girl who looked as though she would not even reach young Karem's chest lamented her insufficient vocabulary with a charming example that belied her age.
"It melts in the mouth faster than snow under late-spring sunlight, yet it is firmer—and softer—than Mama's skin. Th-this… Heavens. Kitty!"
"Not Kitty. Catherine."
"You've been eating something this noble all by yourself until now?!"
"Hehehe. My exclusive chef is extraordinarily skilled. Thanks to him I manage to survive each day."
Catherine had been bragging with an air far older than her years when she abruptly swerved back to reality and began radiating the black miasma of all-nighters and overtime. Karem and Alicia flinched, but Mary, as though brownie seniority never faded, calmly set the tableware and looked at Karem.
"Junior Karem. Quickly—the pudding for our contractor."
"Ah, just a moment."
Still stunned by the darkness of adult society, Karem snapped back to himself. He swiftly inverted the chilled copper cup Catherine had cooled onto a pure-white plate and shook it with care. One, two, three—plop!—and the pudding slid free.
Mary accepted the plate, scooped a spoonful, and guided it into the mouth of the Catherine who was still emitting overtime-born gloom.
"Hmm… this taste?!"
The instant the pudding touched her tongue she closed her mouth by reflex; that fleeting pressure alone shattered the pudding into something that both had form and did not, letting it slip away. Subtle sweetness from the reduced caramel slid past her throat, followed by a rich wave of milk fragrance. The heat of fatigue and stress that had been boiling inside Catherine's head at once subsided.
Sugar restored, the migraine faded. Mary offered another spoonful.
"Lady Alicia is exactly right. I have never once eaten anything like this before."
"Kitty! You understand what I mean too!"
"Not Kitty—Catherine. Sigh… truly, I endure only because of this. If not for it I would have already—every last one of these damn—"
For a moment Catherine ground her teeth as the mountain of remaining work rose before her mind's eye. Meals and snacks were delicious and always new, yet the resentment born of manpower shortages, overtime, and the half-certain feeling of having been scammed did not simply vanish.
At Mary's signal Karem soothed the Catherine who was beginning to overheat again and fretted.
"There, there. We still have plenty of snacks, so please eat as much as you like."
"Oh, right! One more!"
"Lady Alicia. You weren't even invited—aren't you being just a little too shameless…?"
"But there's so much pudding that we won't run short."
Remembering how Catherine had gone on a rampage the first time castella appeared—devouring five loaves and an entire bowl of meringue—Karem had prepared a generous quantity of pudding. The tray Mary carried showed no bottom at all.
No… that sulking is closer to wanting to eat everything herself, only to have an unrefusable guest under the name of 'uninvited visitor' snatch it away…
Alicia could not wait for further preparation. She deftly plated her own pudding and began savoring it.
"Uuuung! To be able to eat something like this every day… I'm so envious."
"Ha. Even if you say that, I will not hand over my chef."
"Kitty! How can you say something so cruel!"
"Do not covet the chef I hired first!"
Catherine crushed Alicia's demand without a second thought.
Meanwhile Karem carefully prepared another pudding and took a bite himself.
"Kitty! Money! Ingredients! Name whatever you desire!"
"Not Kitty—Catherine. Hehe. And even if you hired additional mages for me this very moment, I still would not hand him over."
Hmm. Reassuring. Looks like my workplace won't suddenly change.
Watching her blast away every one of Alicia's negotiation attempts with fiery energy—as though the exhaustion of a moment ago had never existed—Karem relaxed and continued eating his pudding.