Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1.5
Chapter Title: 1 + 1 (2)
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People need to eat every day to survive.
Whether it was snowing, raining, the sun rising, or an incubus sneaking into my dreams pretending to be a busty big sis. Ah, maybe not that last one.
Anyway, people have to eat. Sword Masters, Magic Masters, and Holy Masters seemed to eat even better and get around just fine.
In that sense, some pretty bewildering things had happened over the past three days.
"Today I prepared a simple lobster salad with bisque soup. Would you like some bread too?"
"This is my first time cooking in an oven, so... you're sure it's okay? What a relief..."
"Ah~."
Without fail, every day while drafting the agreement on the rights of the black mage fortress.
Lucia came with the teleport mage, bringing lunch and dinner every time. Homemade cooking, no less—one of men's classic fantasies.
Each time, Duke Baltar's pressure intensified, to the point where the food felt like it was going down my windpipe instead of my esophagus.
"...Our marquisate has a garden dedicated to Demeterion, you know."
And whether he couldn't endure this teasing anymore, or because the duke's pressure was growing day by day—who knows.
The Lutvihi Marquis ended up suggesting we eat somewhere else.
"Wow. Flowers are blooming in the middle of winter."
Demeterion, god of abundance and fertility. The garden infused with orange holy power was filled with the citrus scent of oranges and lemons.
"......"
And I hadn't expected him to follow us all the way here... The title wasn't The Obsessive Northern Duke or anything.
"Would you like to sit here?"
With a pleasant click of her heels, Lucia pointed to a long bench attached to a pure white table.
I was about to sit on the opposite side without a second thought.
"Ahem."
She let out a light cough.
At the same time, with her delicate white fingers, she tapped the seat next to her.
"………!!! "
And that must have been the trigger button, because the pressure from their stares... Ha. What kind of countryside drama is this?
No choice but to sit right next to Lucia. With one person obsessively watching my every move, there was no other way.
If our fake engagement got exposed now, he'd cleave me in two with a real holy sword.
'I wonder if she can actually get married?'
At this point, I was starting to worry about Lucia. I'd rolled through battlefields boasting about whose mouth was the biggest rag, so stares didn't faze me.
But this pressure was way too much for kids raised like greenhouse flowers.
'Duke Astria, if I may say one word.'
Isn't it a bit pathetic to use Aura Master realm like this?
"I prepared more than usual today!"
Completely oblivious to the stares, Lucia happily unpacked her lunchbox.
Starting with wine-braised pork, scrambled eggs, cod fritters. Pickled cabbage, tomato salad, and rice—
'Rice?'
I knew it existed. But my tastes had long been patched to local—bread, potatoes, corn—so I just didn't go as far south as the Rubelheim Knight Kingdom.
With such poor accessibility, it was iffy to airlift it on purpose. So why was it here?
"I heard they succeeded in cultivating it recently in the Lutvihi Marquisate. Mother said she sometimes eats it deliciously at home, so I put in some effort!"
Lucia spoke with bright eyes, as if it were the most natural thing.
Her attitude made my brain freeze for a moment.
'Is this the romance fantasy curse?'
Rice wasn't some magic crop. How'd she overcome the climate and soil differences?
This world I reincarnated into might be a K-romance fantasy where meteors get spammed on mountains, but this was too much. Next thing you know, there'd be kimchi jjigae in some academy back-alley diner.
"Then I'll gratefully dig in, Miss Lucia."
Of course, that wasn't for the guy getting fed for free to think. When someone gives you food, you shut up and eat, good or bad.
Ignoring the minor issue of no chopsticks, I scooped up some steaming rice.
'...?'
My tongue and stomach were instantly conquered.
The side dishes that followed joined the assault—what, my appetite had been captured?
From the tender braised pork to everything else, the balance was perfect.
'How'd she do it?'
Perfect. Almighty. I'd heard the rumors, but I didn't expect her to handle unfamiliar ingredients this well.
"Here's some plum tea. Eat slowly, just a little at a time."
Even the follow-up was flawless. The kind of meal I'd request separately later.
"I-It's so delicious that it keeps rushing into my mouth without regard for order. I've never eaten food this tasty in my life."
"Oh dear. That's a bit embarrassing."
A fresh smile. The kind where poking it would release a citrus scent.
'...Nah, probably not.'
Weird thoughts kept circling. What if she actually likes me for real?
Of course, this was purely emotional speculation.
Say she did like me.
Then what?
She fell for me at first sight that day, knew confessing outright would get shot down.
So she pivots to fake engagement, gradually closing the distance?
How do you explain that?
'Does that even make sense?'
Maybe because I learned romance from books, wild assumptions kept popping up. That last one was a logical leap across the continent barefoot.
This was the limit of learning love from text. Life's about practice, after all.
'Damn it.'
Suddenly felt melancholic. Zero dating experience at this age? That's too sad...
Snow started falling suddenly. It was still late January, so it poured down with biting winds.
Even so, my body, heart, and hands were warm.
"I didn't expect snow to start pouring like this."
Dodging the sudden blizzard, the man and woman entered an empty cafe. To add flair, a handsome man and beautiful woman.
Lucia, dressed head to toe in pristine white fur.
She glanced sideways at Daniel standing next to her.
Black priest robes. White snow piling on top. Thick neck. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Her gaze kept drifting there unconsciously. Forcing it down, she saw their clasped hands instead.
'...This might be too obvious.'
Asking to take off their gloves now? Anyone could see the ulterior motives dripping from that suggestion.
She knew rationally to approach slowly, but her emotions kept throwing tantrums.
Thoughts, actions, feelings she never would've had a month ago.
"Are you alright? You seemed like you wanted to see the ice sculptures."
"I'm fine."
It was just an excuse. A suggestion to spend more time together, somehow.
As long as she could spend time with him, Lucia didn't care how.
"Thanks to the snow, we found this atmospheric cafe, right?"
Like having a snowball fight or strolling on a frozen lake. The specifics didn't matter.
Being with the person she liked. That made anywhere fine.
This deserted cafe was even better—no prying eyes, quiet conversations.
She wouldn't tell the owner that. Saying no customers was good wasn't a compliment.
Feeling guilty, maybe order cake to stay longer.
As she pondered, his hand suddenly brushed her hair.
"Miss Lucia, you've got quite a bit of snow on you."
Quick but gentle pats. Her body nearly flinched.
Such a natural breach of walls.
'Oh. I see.'
This is how he's used to treating women.
Did he know that swooping in with a face like that sparked all sorts of imaginations?
Probably not. He thought it was normal.
"Then let me brush yours off too."
In other words, she could play nice too.
Hiding affection underneath.
Standing on tiptoes, Lucia removed the snowflakes from Daniel's hair.
"..."
She gathered it up and thwack—tossed it at his cheek.
"...?"
"Sorry. I actually wanted to try that."
She burst into laughter, and he looked flustered.
He just... started looking cute. Friends said cute meant terminal stage.
"What drink would you like?"
"Hmm... Whatever you're having, Daniel? I want something different from usual."
"...I only drink black coffee."
"Then that for me too. Oh, and one chocolate cake please."
Order in, and like they'd been waiting, coffee and cake appeared in seconds.
"..."
"Something wrong?"
"Got curious all of a sudden."
Act casual. Pretend pure curiosity. Wrap and hide intent.
"Friends say food tastes better when fed by hand."
"I can do that."
Daniel's wry smile. Eyes tinged with faint melancholy.
Skilled, like he'd done it often.
Fork with cake enters her mouth.
Crunch, cocoa aroma spreads.
"Taste different?"
"Hmm. Just cake flavor."
Her reaction confirmed it. Simple deduction. Maybe baseless fancy.
"Ah, Miss Lucia, I might not contact you for a while, so remember this one thing."
"What now..."
"You don't cross the line—you paint over it."
Women lining up with numbers. Eyes that don't see me as a woman. Defense mechanism. Cross but don't cross.
And big bro's Holy-Demon War stories.
Evidence piling up like this—it was harder to pretend ignorance.
"Nothing big, but suddenly curious. Do you prefer polite speech?"
"I can be shy with people."
"Ah... Yeah, possible."
There's trauma. Who, what—unknown.
Something hardened his heart.
So paint over it. With her hands alone, no one else's.
"But the other day, about ideal types—"
"Sorry, could we skip that topic...?"
"Hmm~."
Opportunity comes. If not, make it herself.
"Ugh. What flavor is this?"
"Sadly, it's to stay alive."
"Ah... So it's an adult drink."
So for now, just.
"Yes. Quite sad, isn't it?"
"What're you saying."
Enjoy his smile.