I Like You

"In the hall alone, exactly seventy-one plates went out."

"And takeout?"

"We lost count partway through, but if you go by plates, a hundred and thirty."

"…How in the world did you manage that?"

Hearing Jane's report, Blow was left with nothing to say. Baked potatoes sold in the hall had gone for one silver apiece; the takeout portions, cut to less than half that amount, had sold for five pennies. In the morning they had sent them out three pieces at a time, purely for tasting, and from evening on they had increased the portions so no one would grumble about paying—and still he could not begin to fathom how they had cooked so much.

"From the middle on, Hans and I were roasting hard too. We changed the recipe a little."

"You changed the recipe?"

"Yes. Melo said we should skip the boiling. She said there was no way through if we kept on like that."

"Well, I'll be… You ran the whole thing yourselves. Feels like I didn't do a thing."

"Oh, come on. From a certain point of view, maybe, but…"

Jane let the words trail off, avoiding his eyes. Blow was not the least bit put out. If his aim had been to become a chef, or the owner of a restaurant, it might have stung—but this was only a means of making a great deal of money. If the place could keep turning over on its own even when he was gone, he could use that time to run another shop, or sketch out some new venture entirely.

Of course, that would take a first-rate cook like Melo.

At the thought he smacked his lips and looked over at Melo, who was still baking potatoes. She was beaming, as if the whole thing were nothing but fun. Blow went to her and gently stroked her sweat-damp hair.

"Melo, you tired?"

"It's sooo much fun! I can hear everybody saying it's delicious!!"

"I hear you changed the recipe partway through."

"Yeees, there were just too many people!"

"You did well."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You did great."

The worry that she might be scolded melted away, and a full, bright smile bloomed across Melo's face.

"Then… Young Master! There's something I want to ask…"

"What?"

"The things you bought earlier! Can I try using them? They smelled so good… hehe…"

Melo's eyes had fixed on the shopping basket he had carried in, and the sight of it quietly startled him. After cooking that much, anyone else would have wanted to rest—yet a fierce flame was burning in her eyes.

"…All right. But you can't use all of it, got it?"

"Yeees! Wow! It's mayonnaise!! What's this one?"

"What you're holding is tomato sauce. You can use all the mayonnaise. That's a gift for you."

"Really?"

Blow nodded at her as her eyes sparkled, hardly able to believe it. Her face brightened even further, and she began unpacking the rest of the basket—so Blow quickly snatched up the curry powder and stuffed it into his pocket.

…The curry powder was off-limits.

He was breaking into a cold sweat at the thought of Melo asking for it when Jane, beside him, spoke in a voice heavy with fatigue.

"Young Master? Shall I keep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠going with the tally?"

"Ah, right. Let's start with the beer."

"The beer sold like mad. Nearly three casks are gone, so the beer sales come to about four hundred thirty-one pennies."

"…We moved more than four hundred glasses?"

"That's why we did as you said earlier, and had people treat the glasses as their own personal cups."

"Otherwise we'd have died doing the dishes. Let's see… so that's forty-three silver?"

"I think we'll have to raise the price of the beer, or raise the baked potatoes even more."

"The beer was priced to match the going rate around here. I'll have to think it over."

Blow stroked his chin over the ledger Jane held out.

…About two hundred plates of potatoes, so roughly two hundred silver, and a little over forty silver from the beer. Round it up and they had made two hundred fifty silver—twenty-five gold. For a first day, that did not seem half bad.

"Jane. You remember the day I collapsed?"

"Yes."

"How much did I leave at the tavern that day?"

"I don't remember exactly, but… it would have been about five gold."

…So the old him had thrown a fifth of what everyone here had to work themselves to the bone to earn straight at a tavern, and walked off. The thought left a bitter taste. He scratched his head, and Jane, reading him, spoke as if to comfort him.

"There's still one table left, though… so maybe it's all right to hope for a little more?"

Where Jane was looking, Skadi was emptying her fortieth glass alongside Hervena. Across from them, Rowbedi and Linne—settled in at some point without his noticing—were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠watching the pair with careful eyes.

"Jane!! The beer's gone warm!!"

Startled by the shout, the two of them looked to the oak cask. The chill magic that ought to have been hanging over it was nowhere to be found.

"Well… we just tapped the fourth cask, and Hervena looked completely out of it. I'm sorry."

Hans bowed at the waist. Blow gave him a good-natured smile and patted his shoulder.

"It's fine. You did well."

"The! Beer! Has! Gone! Waaarm!"

Skadi pounded the table as she yelled. Hervena burst out laughing, clutching her stomach, while Linne and Rowbedi in front of her twitched their lips, trying to scatter the laughter that kept threatening to escape. Blow let out a thin sigh, stepped into the hall, and pointed at Hervena.

"As you can see, the one in charge of the ice magic is drunk. Nothing to be done."

"What? Hey! Hervena! Snap out of it!!"

"Hmm? Whyyy…"

"Go cast the spell."

"What am I, a pouch of spells? No…"

"Then I'll get on my knees?"

"Nooo. Oh. It's Blow Deblique."

Blow went blank at that and drew his brows together. Hervena snorted a laugh, slumped into Skadi's arms, and said:

"If our Young Master asks me himself, I'll think about it…!"

"You're drunk. Think you can even cast properly?"

At Blow's words—arms folded—Hervena's face went rigid. Then she snapped her fingers with a sharp click. From a violet magic circle, a butterfly glowing white sprang free and fluttered past him.

"Wooow! A butterfly."

The butterfly sailed over the head of the brightly shouting Melo and flew straight to Jane. Color returned to Jane's tired face, and a strange light began to turn in her eyes.

"Huh? I feel like my body's gotten lighter…?"

Jane stared at her own hands as if she could not believe it, while Hervena shrugged from across the room as if it were nothing at all. Linne, in front of her, asked in a voice thick with excitement.

"Wow! Senior! That just now was upper-tier magic… Form of Healing, right?"

"Yeah. You study hard, don't you?"

"I… I tried it as a cat!! A proper cat never comes out. It's always just a loaf-shaped cat…."

Linne poured out talk of magic as if a dam she had been holding back had burst. Hervena's gaze, though, stayed fixed on Blow. Seeing that, he spoke in a tone of resignation.

"All right. I'm asking you, Hervena."

"Well. Since you've asked, I suppose I have to grant it."

Hervena rose and stroked the green hair of Linne, who was still rattling on about magic.

"I'll take a look at our junior's magic later."

"Thank you, Senior!!"

"Umhaha! Then this tasteless drink ought to be thrown out, right?"

The moment Hervena stood, Skadi slammed what remained of the beer straight into her own mouth. Feeling as if he were looking at his past self, Blow squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Once the tally was finished, Blow joined Skadi's table along with Jane and Hans.

"The last dish of the day is heeere!"

With that bright voice, Melo set a sizzling frying pan down on the table. Before anyone could even tell what it was, the sweet, rich smell drifting up made Skadi shout in thorough excitement.

"It's not potatoes this time!!!"

"Yeeep! It's a sausage dish!"

In the black pan, plump sausages and onions had been fried together in friendly company, and a red tomato sauce lay over them in a lustrous sheen. Skadi carefully lifted a sausage stained red on her fork and shook Hervena awake—Hervena, whose face had gone red with drink.

"Hervena! What's this red stuff?"

"Tomato. They grow in the south."

"Huh? Why put fruit in food?"

"…Is a tomato a fruit?"

"Then is it a vegetable?"

"So what if it's a fruit? I hear they even grill pineapple in Parso."

"They grill pineapple!? That's barbaric!"

While Skadi fumed, Blow stared at the tomato sauce clinging to the sausage and found himself caught in a strange, subtle feeling.

…This is basically sausage-and-vegetable stir-fry, isn't it?

He swallowed dryly and looked at Melo.

"…Melo, did you come up with this?"

"I just tried it once! I tasted the sauce, and it seemed like it went really well with sausage! Why? Is it bad…?"

She had been talking in a rush of excitement, then suddenly grew worried—tears even welling in her eyes. Blow waved his hands at her.

"…No. I asked because it looks good. I'll try it right now."

He put a sausage straight into his mouth and bit down. The rich, heavy taste of the sausage and the sweetness of the tomato sauce washed over him, and the more he chewed, the more a drab military mess hall unfolded before his eyes—even the sight of Corporal Yoon, the one they had called Moai through his service because he never showed any expression, the corners of that man's mouth lifting.

…Food was that powerful. It could drag up even the memories you had wanted to forget.

"Is it good?"

"It's a taste I missed."

"You've had it before, then?"

When Jane asked with a puzzled look, Blow cleared his throat and shrugged.

"It was a bit sweeter than this, but… maybe because I'm eating it here? This tastes better."

"Hehe, I wanted to make it sweeter! But we ran out of sugar…"

At that he stroked Melo's hair once more and reached for the next sausage—only to find not a single drop of tomato sauce left on the plate. A flash of anger rose in him, and he looked toward Hervena and Skadi sitting across the table.

"This is to-die-for!!"

"It really is!"

The two of them wore bright smiles, clearly in high spirits. Faced with those cheerful faces, he clicked his tongue, resigned, and picked up his beer. After a few glasses had come and gone, he noticed Rowbedi and Linne glancing around nervously and called them outside.

"You two ought to be getting back soon, yeah?"

"No, Senior."

To Rowbedi, who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠answered firmly, Blow said nothing more. He held out a heavy pouch first.

"Today's wages. You both worked hard."

Thinking it felt far too heavy, the two checked the amount—and their eyes went more than twice as wide.

"Twenty silver…!? S-Senior, this is too much. We clearly agreed earlier on only fifteen silver…"

"It's fine. If it weren't for you two, we'd have been in real trouble."

Blow waved them off and pushed the pouch they tried to hand back right back at them. He had not set out to turn a margin on today's business anyway, and without them the place would surely have collapsed.

"We drank beer too…"

"What, did you think I was going to charge you for that separately?"

Blow looked utterly incredulous. Linne, watching him, swallowed hard and carefully opened her mouth.

"…M-may I be honest?"

"Go ahead."

"I… I thought you'd s-subtract the cost of the beer and the snacks."

"What do you take me for…"

"…I-I guess you really do have to e-experience people for yourself."

"You tired? You're talking nonsense. Anyway, you worked hard today. I'd be glad to see you again."

With that, Blow turned to go. Rowbedi's voice came from behind him.

"Senior, if… if you ever need people to work, please say so anytime. I'd be grateful. I have to work anyway. Haha…"

Rowbedi swallowed audibly, as if it had taken a fair bit of courage. The corners of Blow's mouth could not help but rise. He had been thinking the same thing all along.

"Yeah? I'll think about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it."

And once he stepped back inside, he silently crowed in triumph and clenched his fist.

One in the morning.

Melo and Hans had long since gone upstairs. In the hall remained Blow, Jane, Hervena… and the tireless Skadi.

"You should get going. I've got the morning service tomorrow."

"I'll cast a spell for you. Poof!"

Before he even finished speaking, Hervena's white butterfly came flying at him. His body felt much lighter, and some of the fatigue seemed to lift—but it was his mind that was tired, and Blow's face had gone stiff. Skadi cleared her throat with a hem, raised her glass toward him, and called out.

"Haha! You've gotten weak, Blow Deblique! Didn't you used to drink all night?"

"Is then the same as now? And why does the school even allow kids to drink in the first place?"

"…Of all people, aren't you the last one who should be saying that?"

"Must be because my body's gotten weak."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed a gaunt arm. A startled Skadi swallowed dryly.

"You've gotten awfully frail. Not like you at all. Back then, people would've believed you if you'd said you were a knight-school cadet…"

"You try lying in bed for six months."

"Well. Do you think something like that would happen to me?"

While the two of them talked, Jane—thoroughly drunk by now—was nestling into Hervena's arms.

"You're reeeally good at magic!"

"Thanks!"

"How'd you get even better than that?"

"Jane…"

Jane giggling, Hervena on the verge of tears. Blow pinched the bridge of his nose at the sight of them.

"Blow."

Skadi's voice came low.

There are people who, once they start drinking, soar into a brilliant mood—and then, without warning, crash. The girl called Skadi, who had long since blown past fifty glasses and was busy setting a new record, was exactly that sort.

Skin so white it called a snowfield to mind, a clean sharp jaw, long lashes. She drew her slim waist straight, braced her chin on one hand, and crossed her legs in black stockings with a faint run in them. When the bright moonlight came flooding into the inn, the hair that fell to her waist caught the light and began to shine. This was the quiet Skadi you saw only when she was truly drunk, and faced with her, Blow had no choice but to straighten where he sat.

She always springs this on me out of nowhere.

Skadi, just then, traced a finger along the rim of her glass. The corner of her mouth rose, and she leaned in toward Blow.