A Sweet Cup of Hot Amadeus on a Cold Day
Snow.
The unmistakable emblem of winter, arriving without fail the moment the season turned. Water vapor from the heavens, condensed into a natural phenomenon. To those who merely watched, it could stir a lyrical, almost poetic mood. To those who had to shovel it, however, it inspired pure loathing—and they were more than happy to call it white trash.
The people of Coldon in Iceland belonged firmly to the latter camp, much like the snow-clearing crews of Karem’s previous life.
As if to say it had missed him, the snow began to pour down less than a day after the coming-of-age ceremony ended, as though everything until now had been nothing more than a playful tease.
Yet the faces of the people clearing the snow visible from the Mage’s Tower did not look nearly as dark or sullen as Karem had expected.
Sluuuurp—
“Well, yeah. It’s coming down lighter than last time, at least.”
Of course, Karem had lived in Winterhome for barely more than a year. He had no eye for judging snowfall volume by sight alone.
How he could even guess, then… was by looking at the height of the snow wall Mary was building outside the window.
Karem narrowed his eyes as he sipped from his mug.
“Roughly… about a third lower than last year, I’d say.”
Once winter set in and the snow began to pile up, Mary’s fortifications would start rising right along with it. Watching that height gave him at least a rough sense of how much had fallen so far.
Tragedy viewed from three paces back becomes comedy.
Watching Mary’s combative snow-clearing through the window, set against the frantic bustle of Coldon’s inner keep, while drinking thick, steaming hot chocolate—now that was something special.
And this was no ordinary hot chocolate, either.
A typical cup was nothing more than chocolate-based powder dissolved in hot water or milk. What he was drinking now was different.
First he had fully melted butter into fresh cream, combining them into a high-fat double cream. He heated that until it was scalding, then added generous amounts of Amadeus and sugar until everything dissolved completely.
It was hot chocolate worthy of the name—literally hot chocolate.
Not water, not even regular cream, but double cream richer than heavy cream, with Amadeus melted into it without restraint. The result hovered somewhere between liquid and solid, thick enough that you could feel the magma-like clumps of it.
Proof came with every sip from the mug: not a light slurp, but a heavy, viscous sound.
It was also the reason Mary looked so particularly battle-ready while shoveling outside.
“Ah—right. It’s Amadeus, not chocolate.”
When the cup finally hit bottom, Karem poured another serving of the thick hot Amadeus from the kettle and drank deep.
Sluuuurp—
The hot, clotted Amadeus filled his mouth completely before slowly sliding down his throat.
“So… what am I supposed to do now?”
His stomach was solidly full, yet his chest felt the opposite—just a little empty. Only a little.
He had achieved his goal, after all.
The word “kid” had finally dropped from Catherine’s lips.
She still called him that now and then, of course, but Karem was generous enough to let that slide.
The hollowness remained, separate from all that—but looking at the gift they had exchanged made it far easier to bear.
Karem glanced down at the ring on the ring finger of his left hand.
Sluuuuurp—
“What are you doing perched on the windowsill like that?”
“Hm? Who—oh? Lady Catherine?”
“That’s right. And what are you drinking this time?”
“Ah, Amadeus. Amadeus.”
“Hmm? Amadeus, you say?”
Catherine eyed the cup Karem held out with clear interest.
Come to think of it, they drank it as a beverage in the Empire, didn’t they?
It was so dense the surface barely even rippled. Just the smell alone promised something thick and luscious.
“So this is the Amadeus they ate—no, drank—in the Empire?”
“Ah, I recreated a hot chocolate recipe I remembered from my previous life.”
“Hot chocolate? Oh. You mentioned they had drinks over there too.”
Hot chocolate, was it? Catherine muttered to herself, staring fixedly at the cup. Without hesitation Karem refilled the half-empty mug until it was brimming with hot Amadeus again.
“Would you like a cup?”
“Is there that big a difference from just chewing it?”
“A very big difference.”
“…”
“Ah—and this is mostly cream, so you don’t have to worry.”
“…”
“Even if you finish the whole thing, it’s still less than a Rocher.”
At the look that promised a surprise, Catherine glanced at Karem, then carefully brought her lips to the cup he offered.
First, a small sip—
Sluuuk—
“…Oh.”
Even with a perfect smear of dark-brown lipstick left on her mouth, Catherine made no move to wipe it away. Instinctively she seized Karem’s wrist and began gulping it down in earnest.
“No need to rush. Drink it slowly.”
“Pwah. You’ve been drinking this all by yourself?”
“I only made it a little while ago—half as a test, half for nostalgia.”
Who casually makes something like this on a whim?!
The words stayed locked inside Catherine’s heart. She had no room left to answer him.
Sluuuuurp—
She had mastered ice magic to the point that cold no longer truly affected her body—yet that did not mean she could not feel the cold. Catherine knew perfectly well how special a hot drink or a bowl of broth could be on a winter day so frigid it felt ready to tear skin and pierce joints.
But liquids cooled quickly. Even after they reached the stomach, the same held true. Heat transferred, yes—but being liquid, they left the belly feeling hollow once they were gone.
Honey-laced hot milk or cream had at least given a pleasant sense of solid weight in the stomach. The hot Amadeus she was drinking now was something else entirely.
It was so thick it was nearly a solid in liquid form. Every sensation of that dense mass packing her throat completely and pushing its way down to her stomach registered with perfect clarity.
Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! Sluuuurp—
“You’ve been drinking this all by yourself?”
“Didn’t you just say that a moment ago?”
“Anyway! That kettle. It is clearly full of this liquid Amadeus.”
“I was saving that for Mary—”
“Tell her to make another batch later!”
At Catherine’s urging, Karem simply shrugged once. He refilled the empty cup as ordered and fed it to her.
Catherine polished off the remaining hot Amadeus—barely half a kettle of liquid so thick it still felt solid—and still looked disappointed when it was gone.
“Just a moment.”
“Hm? Mm.”
Catherine flinched at the sudden approach of a handkerchief, yet she did not pull away. She simply let him.
“Mm.”
It was nothing he had not done before, yet ever since that day it felt somehow more… embarrassing, and a little bittersweet.
Her gaze fell on the ring on Karem’s left hand.
“You’ve been wearing that ring everywhere lately.”
“Ah—well, I take it off when I cook.”
“Even indoors, that much?”
“Looking at it the other way, there’s no reason to take it off otherwise, is there?”
Something fluttered in her chest. When the rough-yet-gentle touch left her lips, Karem was already tucking the handkerchief away again.
“You’re one to talk, Lady Catherine. You wear yours through meals and research alike.”
“That’s—hm? What? Catherine?”
“We ended up exchanging rings, and you’ve already given me leave with the name. So… a little?”
“…Hmph. More importantly—if you’ve got nothing better to do, are you coming with me?”
“Hm? Yes.”
She had not started any new research yet, and it was still far too early to prepare a meal or snacks. He had been free enough to sit on the windowsill and stare blankly at Mary and the keep staff clearing snow.
Karem collected the empty cup and kettle, slid off the sill, and followed after Catherine.
“Where are we going, by the way?”
“That old man is absurdly light on his feet for his age.”
The only person Catherine called “old man” so bluntly inside the castle was Olivier.
“So I agreed to look over Young Master Robin’s research in his place.”
“Research? Third Young Master Robin is doing research?”
“Is there something strange about that?”
“No, it’s just… Young Master Robin only began studying magic a short while ago, didn’t he?”
Granted, everything Karem himself did was cooking and culinary research, worlds away from magic. But after nearly a year living in the Mage’s Tower, he understood perfectly well how absurd Catherine’s statement was.
“Until recently he was still just levitating objects with mana, wasn’t he?”
“Well, it’s half assignment, half homework—but research is research. The old man was practically drooling when he snapped him up as a disciple, so the talent must be there.”
“That much?”
“Yes. Not as much as me, of course.”
At the genius beautiful young mage’s sudden self-praise, Karem found himself staring at the back of her head with a thoroughly unimpressed look.
“Ahem. I am still your master.”
“Pardon? I didn’t do anything.”
“You just sent me a rude look and you’re going to claim that?”
Catherine glanced back just enough to glare at him.
“Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”
“Who wouldn’t notice a stare that obvious—”
“Ah. Hold still a second. Just keep your head like that.”
A faint smear still lingered at the corner of Catherine’s lips. Karem took out the handkerchief again and wiped it away.
“There was still a little left.”
“Mm. Right. Anyway—who did you think wouldn’t notice that?”
“And it’s not just a master-and-servant relationship anymore, is it?”
“What?”
Karem casually raised his left hand and wiggled the ring, then pointed with his eyes at Catherine’s left hand, prodding her with the look.
At that sly glance she reflexively covered the hand wearing the ring.
“You cheeky little…”
“I’ve got a lot of lost progress to make up for, so I’d appreciate it if you looked on me kindly—”
“Enough nonsense.”
Master and servant climbed the stairs toward the upper levels of the tower, accompanied only by the occasional small explosion and bubbling sounds. A few mages they passed exchanged greetings; they returned them absently until they reached the private room prepared for Robin in the Mage’s Tower.
“Is Young Master Robin really that skilled? Having a private room on the upper floors would suggest so.”
“Well, he has talent, but even later he wouldn’t rate a private room this high yet. Middle floors at best.”
Catherine jerked her chin toward the door with a disgruntled expression. Karem took the hint and knocked.
Knock knock knock—
“Don’t tell me it’s because of the Duke’s notice?”
“Hah. Me?”
“Well, that does make sense.”
“That damn old fossil is the one fretting over nothing. Stubborn as an ogre’s tendon, the rotten geezer.”
Catherine clicked her tongue hard and short; a crease formed between her brows.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a response came from inside.
“Is that Master Olivier?”
“The damn old man had urgent business, so I came instead.”
“Atanitas?”
Creeeak— The door to the private room swung open on its own, without the slightest sign of anyone approaching it.
Catherine raised one eyebrow at the sight.
“Hoh.”
“That’s the look of someone who’s at least mildly impressed.”
“Yes. He’s fully controlling his mana now.”
Robin’s laboratory was quite different from any research space Karem had seen before. Granted, the only ones he had seen were Catherine’s and Olivier’s, but the difference was still striking.
Catherine’s office turned into a disaster zone after a single day. Olivier’s private room was neat and quietly elegant.
Robin’s laboratory-slash-quarters looked, in that sense, like a compromise between the two rooms fused into one.
It was cleanly organized, yet the bizarre taxidermy specimens, bubbling pots, and scattered materials visible here and there gave it the air of a mad mage’s workshop.
Robin stood in the center of a room far larger than expected.
“So you came in Master’s place?”
“I did. You’ve made quite the progress in a short time.”
“I’ll take the compliment. Hello to you too, Karem.”
Karem could not possibly answer that greeting.
He knew it was rude, but anyone would have reacted the same way.
Sitting proudly on the table was a six-sided object that, no matter how you looked at it, could only be a modern microwave oven.
Hot Chocolate
A picture drawn by ChatGPT.