A Pleasant Lunchtime (1)
Staring at the steak wasn't going to change anything, but then again, humans weren't creatures who moved on reason alone. Knowing it was futile, I still glared down at the food on my plate. It wasn't that it tasted bad. True to the standards of a noble academy, the meal was refined and brought out the flavor of its ingredients beautifully.
It didn't fall far short of what I'd eaten at home. There was no mother's love in it, of course, but you could still taste the effort of whoever had prepared it. So what was the problem? My palate.
My tongue, already accustomed to spices, simply couldn't enjoy the food properly. There was a vague sense that it was good, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the stimulation hitting my tongue was too weak. Compared to the violent heat of chili oil or the rich, distinctive flavor of spices, the food here fell short. And above all — there was no rice.
For a Korean who ran on rice, this was unthinkable. I didn't have the courage to make a fuss about it, but I couldn't erase the sense that my expectations had been betrayed. How could the world's finest educational institution not even have a single grain of steamed white rice?
The thought that I'd only been betrayed because I'd expected something in the first place flickered through my mind — but wasn't it harder not to expect anything? Even if this was reality now, it was still the main stage of the novel. How could I not get my hopes up?
This was the place where the protagonist and his heroines laughed and joked around together. Could they really smile like that if the food was this bad? I didn't think so.
...Maybe the premise itself was wrong. Maybe I was the only one who found it bland, and by this continent's standards it was a delicacy. Maybe my palate had just gone weird from eating nothing but food drowning in spices and oil every single day.
Back when I'd tried trendy foods like tapioca and weird tteokbokki with my few friends, I'd been the only one who said they tasted bad. Looking back, the others' reactions had been pretty awkward — maybe because they'd been eating something that actually tasted terrible?
...Or maybe everything had tasted bad, and while everyone else had been politely saying it was good, I'd been the only tactless one to call it out and kill the mood — that horrifying possibility crossed my mind, but I shook my head hard and banished the ugly thought. Their faces had soured because the food was bad. That had to be it.
It just had to be.
Tch.
Ever since I'd become this body, hiding my emotions had gotten harder. In the past I could more or less get by thinking, well, what can you do if you don't like something? Now, if something rubbed me the wrong way, it showed right away — my tail swishing, my ears twitching, or me unconsciously clicking my tongue. Every time it happened I checked the people around me, but so far it hadn't caused any real trouble.
At least I'd never done it in front of my parents, and back home I'd been the crown princess, so no one was going to call me out for it. Except my tutors. But this place was different. At Amauros Academy, everyone was equal in principle — commoner or noble.
It wasn't as if this academy had no princes or princesses, or no blood of imperial houses. Those children were all treated as ordinary students, so there was no reason I would be any different. On top of that I was a complete outsider and a different species, so I had to be careful.
I didn't know exactly how Father had gotten me enrolled here, but it couldn't have been peaceful. In the nineteen years I'd spent on the Eastern Continent, war had never stopped.
No matter how I looked at it, it didn't seem like a legitimate method. Did someone who'd gotten in that way even have the right to complain about the cafeteria food?
I glared at the steak in front of me. I cut off a piece and chewed it carefully — and it was... still lacking. The steak that had been warm just a moment ago had cooled to that awkward in-between temperature. It reminded me of high school, when I'd eaten alone. Taking my time under the pretense of savoring the solitude, only to scrape lukewarm leftovers into the trash.
...This was depressing. When I'd eaten with my family, even slower meals had tasted so much better.
That was because the food had suited my palate. That was all it was.
I hadn't piled much on my plate to begin with, so finishing didn't take long. As I stood, I felt eyes following me, but I deliberately ignored them, left my dishes at the return counter, and headed for the school store. You couldn't have an academy story without a school store, after all.
Just thinking that made my mood lift a little. Snacks. Heroine events. Dates!
Not that I would know. But there had to be some, right? Over three hundred and twenty chapters — surely the protagonist at least met some socially awkward heroine at the school store and got all lovey-dovey with her.
Just thinking about it made me mad. The protagonist just went with the flow and girls flocked to him. I'd gotten bullied the moment I arrived. And he wasn't even that good-looking. Wait, no — he was good-looking, but still only average by this world's standards.
...The more I dwelt on it, the more miserable I felt, and I was the only one suffering for it. For now I just needed to think about stuffing myself with carbs. Ever since becoming a girl I didn't need to eat that much. One bowl of rice was enough to fill me up, and honestly I already felt full enough. But could a Korean really claim to have eaten a proper meal without carbs?
So I was going to eat bread, at least. Cream buns were delicious in this world and the old one alike.
A girl whose eyes had met mine by chance fled in a panic, but I decided to ignore that.
I wanted to go home right that second, but I couldn't. If only to find out what happened in the rest of the novel — if only for my petty revenge on the author — I was going to stay at this academy.
Though calling it revenge was a stretch; I wasn't even sure what I could do to get back at the author. There'd been a time when I'd thought burning this world to the ground might do it, but that would be getting everything backwards. The author wasn't so detestable that I'd torch the world I had to live in just to settle a petty score.
Thinking that, I was walking toward the school store when a girl suddenly stopped me. I scanned her face, wondering if I knew her, but she wasn't anyone in my memory or knowledge. Who was this? Was she about to start putting real pressure on me?
So the murky darkness of noble society was finally turning my way. Even as I lamented it, I hated the idea of just taking it, so I put a little feeling into my voice as I asked her.
"Who are you?"
Iris couldn't understand why Stephania hadn't asked Baek Hoyeon herself and had instead ordered her to do it.
Neither her head nor her heart could accept it. She'd built a decent relationship with Stephania, and as a result she'd been able to supply her family's local specialties to Stephania's merchant company. She hadn't done anything to earn hatred, so why had she been given this role? She kept asking herself.
Ask about the political situation, of all things.
Of all the worst timing — a member of her family had recently been involved in an unsavory incident in the Baek Empire. She had no idea how she was supposed to even bring something like that up. What topic should she open with? Spices? Cloth?
But the moment she stood before Hoyeon, every thought became meaningless.
If someone asked her what it felt like to stick your head into a beast's maw, she thought she could answer right then and there.
An oppressive presence so heavy she could barely breathe. Golden eyes that seemed to stare down into the bottom of her soul. A dense hostility that forbade even the slightest movement.
The sudden premonition that she might actually die flashed through her mind. Had her heartbeat always been this loud? Asking herself questions that had no answers, she was already forgetting what she'd come to ask — until Hoyeon's next words snapped her back to her senses.
"If you have no business, I shall take my leave."
"My name is Iris Stargazer!"
The only reason she managed even an introduction was because of Stephania. Stephania hated broken promises more than anything.
She had promised to find out about the political situation, so she was desperate. She blurted it out, but she still couldn't see any way to keep the conversation going. What could she say to keep from offending her and still hold her there? In that fleeting moment Iris thought and thought, and only one thing came to mind.
"Recently... in your homeland, regarding the trouble our foolish uncle caused... I wished to offer an apology..."
Even she thought it was clumsy, but it was the best she could come up with on the spot.
"Stargazer... Star... Ah. You speak of that spirited missionary. That matter is settled. There is no need for a house to answer for the faults of one individual."
Iris's face brightened a little. The crushing pressure hadn't gone away, but at least Hoyeon was showing some willingness to talk. A good sign.
"If you sought to apologize, I accept it. I am busy — that will be all."
Until she left those words and started to walk away again. The color drained from the face of the girl who absolutely had to find out about the political situation no matter what.
In the instant she tried to say something more to hold her there, she saw it — and felt it.
Eyes glaring at her as if to say, speak no further. The terror she'd been desperately crushing down with a sense of duty. It was more than enough to make Iris, who had scraped together every scrap of courage she possessed, sink to her knees.
Without so much as a glance at the wretched Iris left behind, Hoyeon simply quickened her steps and walked on.