Dechang's Spring
Two hours before Dechang arrived at Hills, Jane—called there by Blow—heard what Megan had been saying and drew her brows together.
"She what? Megan decided to do that?"
"She's had nothing else on her mind since before she went down."
"I mean, I'm... fine. I barely have anyone I'm close to in Blanya anyway, but..."
"Anyway, she says she's going to give it everything she has, so let's lend her a hand."
"All right..."
Jane tried to picture Megan's face—that expression no one could ever read. A prickle of gooseflesh ran over her. She swallowed dryly and rubbed her arms.
"And Jane, there's one more thing you need to do today."
"What is it?"
"Could you teach Lady Yulia how to make corn cheese?"
The moment he finished, Yulia came out of the kitchen looking awkward and took her place at Blow's side. She had gone so far as to tie on an apron in earnest. Jane swallowed again and turned her eyes to Blow.
"So you are serious."
"Yeah. One hundred percent, pure and simple."
Bright with anticipation at the thought of making corn cheese herself, Yulia held out a hand toward Jane.
"Jane! I'm counting on you—as my senior in corn cheese!"
"Of course I'll help. If it were anything else, maybe not, but corn cheese?"
"When I watched you at the monastery last time, you were remarkably good at cooking."
"Next to Melo I'm nothing. I'm only following the recipe she already worked out."
"I think even that is extraordinary. In the very moment of cooking, you're setting curiosity into the dish—one of the most primal emotions a person has!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Take the pizza I always enjoy, for instance. Haven't you ever wanted to put Rest Mountain cheese on the dough?"
"Rest Mountain cheese? That one with the dreadful smell..."
"Exactly! And what if we roasted the mussels in the oven? What if we soaked the pork ribs in honey? What if we tossed the pasta with cheese? Aren't you simply dying to know?"
It was a pile of words that turned the stomach at the mere imagining. Startled, Jane and Blow stole a glance at each other.
A genuine disaster in a kitchen. The one mercy is that she'll almost never have reason to set foot in one.
While Blow was still swallowing that thought, Jane cleared her throat a few times for no particular reason and spoke with care.
"Senior, just for today, I think it would be best if you set that curiosity aside."
"Oh, of course, of course! Later—when I feel like treating someone! That's when I ought to try it!"
As she said it, Yulia looked toward Blow, eyes sparkling. He felt that gaze, and a chill ran down his spine. Before he knew it, he had taken a step back.
Anyway. Time to cook.
Jane, aproned now just like Yulia, began to explain in a calm voice.
"Thank— no. Still, corn cheese isn't a difficult dish. Do it a few times exactly as I tell you, and you'll get a feel for it."
"Yes, I'm truly counting on you. Today I'm not serving just anyone. I'm serving my father."
"Ah. Right, that was it. First things first—let's wash our hands!"
Teaching Yulia to cook was burden enough. Knowing a marquis would be the one to eat the result doubled it, and Jane's face hardened further. Blow leaned in and whispered at her ear.
"Even if it's a complete ruin, the Marquis probably won't say a word. Senior made it."
"That... is probably true."
"Skip some of the steps. Teach her as simply as you can."
"One slip and this turns into a disaster."
"You two? What should I be doing now?"
"I think we can start right away. First, the corn..."
And so the lesson began. Jane demonstrated, and Yulia watched and copied her move for move.
"I think salt would taste better than sugar! Savory. Salty."
"Shall we try pepper instead of parsley? It sprinkles in almost the same way."
The curiosity that ought to have stayed sealed kept bursting out, and both Jane and Blow were soon sweating cold.
Five attempts went by that way. At last the corn cheese began to show its proper color.
"Senior, you're getting quite good at this."
"Not at all. The recipe is just that easy and simple, and Jane explained it so well. Thinking about it, I don't know why this never occurred to me—cheese over corn, something so simple..."
"If anything, thinking of something easy and simple is the harder part."
"That's right. As expected of you, Young Master."
Yulia clasped her hands as if thoroughly pleased and looked at Blow, but her face, unlike before, had gone stiff. He noticed, cleared his throat, and asked her gently.
"Is something worrying you, Senior?"
"The cooking seems all right. The truth is... it's been so long since I had a proper conversation with my father. I'm nervous. Enough that I want to run."
Even so—for Senior to say she wants to run. The pressure on her must be terrible.
Blow turned it over, recalled something he had glimpsed in passing back in his days as Han Ji-hoo, and offered it in a soft voice.
"What if you thought of it as asking questions?"
"Questions?"
"Yes. Don't think of it as you having to be the one who speaks, my lady. Let the Marquis be the one who talks. Do that, and the conversation may carry itself."
"Mm... then could we talk through what I ought to ask? I'm afraid I'll make another mistake."
"Of course. We should help you."
"I'll help too, Senior!"
"Thank you both. Truly."
"We're on the same team."
"To be able to work with people like Jane, and like you, Young Master—I really do think I'm lucky."
The feeling caught her. Yulia's eyes began to shine with tears. Time was short, and the work was not finished, so Blow clapped, loud enough to be heard, and tried to clear the air.
"Not at all! Now then, let's talk it through together. We'll finish before Melo gets here."
"All right. Young Master."
Yulia rubbed the corners of her eyes and smiled at him. And so the three of them set to discussing, in earnest, what she ought to ask Dechang.
On the table where the corn cheese Yulia had made with all her care now sat, silence held for a long while. Afraid the talk might wander off the path they had prepared, Blow simply waited for the woman beside him to open her mouth.
In that awkward quiet, more than half of everyone's corn cheese disappeared. Then Yulia, forcing a smile, carefully broke the stillness and met the eyes of Dechang across from her.
"...Does it suit you?"
Dechang, who had been fretting himself raw, tried not to let his surprise show and cleared his throat.
"O-of course it does. Who made it? Haha..."
"I was afraid it... might not suit you..."
"It's wonderfully good."
"I'm glad."
"The taste is one thing. What surprised this father more is that you, Yulia, made a dish like this at all."
In his mind the child was still vivid: little Yulia, so strict with her meals that she would not so much as drizzle a sauce over steak. For that girl to set before him something at the very opposite pole—sweet, and bold—was, from where he sat, nothing short of a shock.
"Actually, the first time I ate this corn cheese, I ate it out of courtesy. I was afraid the Young Master would be embarrassed. It did look delicious, of course..."
"I see. Was that October?"
"Yes. After I had it a few more times, it was... quite all right, so..."
I can't believe I'm stammering like this.
If a mouse hole had opened in front of her, Yulia would have crawled into it at once. Her vision seemed to blur. Her heartbeat sounded louder. She could not taste the corn cheese at all.
Brought face to face with what she had turned from all this time, she was anything but at ease. Yet everyone at the table only smiled, gently. No one looked impatient. No one gave her a look. And because of that, she could go on, slowly.
"Thinking about it, I... I don't think I've ever served you a meal, Father. I don't think the thought even occurred to me."
"...Is that so."
"So I wanted to, just once. Th-this is my favorite dish."
"......"
"I tried my best. I'm glad it suits you."
"As I said, it was wonderfully good. The seasoning was just right, too."
"It was my first time, so I worried a great deal..."
"For a first time, you did very well."
The first question ended with Dechang's smile. Yulia wet her throat with water and carefully moved to the next.
"You saw the duel, didn't you?"
"I'm sorry. I told you clearly that I would come up after the semifinals..."
"No. It worked out. Because of that, I could show you something good..."
"Truly—my own daughter, and still I was impressed, Yulia. I never imagined you could fight in a way so unlike a mage. It was like seeing your mother."
"...The running helped. A great deal, I think."
"Haha. The knights ask me now and then. Whether you're still running these days, Yulia."
"Every day."
"Remarkable. As expected of my daughter. You must be busy—you're not pushing too hard?"
"On the hard days, I do skip it sometimes..."
"Good. You're doing it to grow healthier. No need to think you have to force it."
Halting as it was, the conversation was moving. It was going better than he had hoped. Blow let out a quiet breath and waited for Yulia's next question.
"Does Hills look all right to you?"
"Of course. Not only Hills—your contract with Young Master Blow seems to have been very well made."
"I think the contract with the Young Master was lucky, in a great many ways."
"Even so, you were handling the work so cleanly. I thought, as expected of my daughter."
"Thank you for looking on it kindly. And for saying so kindly."
All at once Yulia realized she was stammering far less. She glanced at Blow, listening in silence beside her. He nodded, as if to say she was doing well. She answered with a smile and asked the fourth question she had settled on.
"The hotel... I put some care into it as well. Did it look all right?"
"It was very well kept. I could see that you, the owner, were seeing to it yourself. The guests looked pleased. Even while attending school, you did well, Yulia. There was hardly a flaw to find."
"If it looked that way, I'm truly glad."
It had been one of the things that weighed on her most. Only then could she let out a sigh of relief. Talking had given her a little room to breathe, and she looked around the table.
What caught her eye was Dechang's fork, which had not moved once since she first opened her mouth. He was wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, wearing a smile with some difficulty.
He was even more nervous than I was.
Something in her softened. She spoke in a voice altogether different from before.
"Won't you... have a little more?"
"Ah. We were talking, and I forgot entirely. I should eat. My daughter went to such trouble."
He tried to say it as if it were nothing, but the hand that took up the fork was trembling. Even so, his eyes stayed on her face—the look of a man worried he might already have hurt her feelings.
"Perhaps because my daughter made it, it's delicious even cold."
"......"
"Your younger siblings— no. The servants at the estate would love it too. Haha..."
Yulia studied her father's face as he hurriedly put the corn cheese, gone cold and stiff, into his mouth. The man once called the handsomest in the Imperial Capital had more gray in his hair now. Fine lines gathered at the corners of his eyes, and deep creases had sunk in beside his mouth.
If she was not to leave regrets behind.
She pressed down whatever was rising in her and barely got the words out.
"......"
"I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have been that way..."
But once she began, the tears simply fell. Yulia covered her face with both hands. Dechang looked at his daughter in silence, then slowly closed his eyes.
How long had it been since Yulia called him Dad? How he had envied Bjorn, who got to hear his daughter speak words packed tight with warmth.
"No. If this father had been a little wiser..."
"No. I'm sorry, truly... You didn't do a single thing wrong. I'm the only one apologizing, and for nothing..."
With her words, tears fell from Dechang's eyes as well. For a while the two of them wept, as if pouring out everything they had stacked upon each other all this time. Blow held out a handkerchief to Marchen too, who had bowed her head and was forcing her feelings down.
It took them exactly forty-seven minutes to heave out every feeling they had been holding. Eyes swollen, they talked of many things after that—the duel with Hervena, meeting the Saint in Roten and the contract that followed, Yulia's younger siblings attending Noble School.
Blow listened to a conversation that seemed as if it might never end, then caught the eye of Jane, waiting in the kitchen. A little later she brought strawberry cake on plates to their table. Dechang started and looked at Blow.
"You really are..."
"Somehow I felt the dessert had to be this."
"Young Master, how did you know I liked strawberry cake, of all things..."
"Ah, you did? The truth is, I like strawberry cake myself."
Blow turned the words aside with an easy grace and set a dessert fork on Yulia's plate himself. Dechang, who had been gazing at him, took a strawberry from the cake and put it in his mouth.
Sweet, and bright—the unmistakable taste of spring. The more he chewed, the deeper the new green became, and the warmth with it.
The Young Master has brought my long winter to an end. A kindness I could never repay.
With that thought, a resolve settled in him, and Dechang opened his mouth.
"Young Master Blow."
"Yes, Marquis."