The Girl's World (4)
"I will take Melo down to Blanya with me."
At Romang's words, Melo's heart dropped clean out of her chest. The last thin thread of hope on Jane's and Hans's faces snapped into despair, and Blow himself had no choice but to nod.
It can't be helped.
He was still forcing himself to swallow the outcome he did not want when Romang's mouth opened again.
"We will go down."
Her voice spread through the room like a struck bell. Blow's eyes went wide as he stared at her.
"We will apologize together to the Baron for the worry we have caused, and apologize to every person of the domain. After that, I will send her back up."
"What?"
Blow asked it again, unable to believe what he had heard. Melo's bowed head lifted.
"I believe that is the proper order."
"...Then?"
Romang answered with a nod. The strength went out of Blow all at once, and he slumped back into his chair. Hans and Jane hauled Melo up from where she had collapsed and held her tight.
"It worked out. It really..."
"Melo!!!!"
Melo, her face a mess of tears, scrubbed at them in a daze. Romang watched her daughter and went on in a level voice.
"The curry dish was unusual. The idea was good. That was yours, Young Master, wasn't it?"
"Yes..."
"The seasoning was far too strong, and the flavors sat apart from one another. It was obvious you have not made this dish many times."
She had put her finger exactly on what was lacking. Blow and Melo both flinched.
"But the potato salad was good."
"The potato salad...?"
It was the last thing he had expected, and he could not help being startled. They had poured so much into the sausage that the salad had barely been thought through at all. Stuck for a proper appetizer, they had simply taken Melo's word that she had made potato salad often enough to be confident in it. That was the whole of it.
Now that I think of it, Romang finished that potato salad almost at once.
That he had paid it no mind only meant it had never caught his eye. Romang went on as if to confirm as much.
"It was among the finest potato salads I have ever eaten. Better, of course, than anything I had in Blanya."
"Whaaat?"
It was nearly the first true praise Melo had ever heard from her, and the girl's eyes went wide. From the day she came of age until now, Romang had given every hour of her life to cooking, and in that domain she could not be anything but serious. Even her own darling daughter had always been judged in earnest there, and today was no different. So when Melo first said she would cook lunch, Romang had even thought it might let her harden her heart for good. That thought had been overturned completely the moment she tasted the potato salad Melo made.
In that salad, past and present were both dissolved: the child who had haunted the kitchen since she was four, and the girl standing here now. The flavor was so soft, so natural, that she had nearly forgotten the situation altogether.
It tastes good.
The instant that thought rose, Romang had no choice but to acknowledge her daughter. This was cooking, and nothing else.
"You cannot be given a kitchen if the skill is not there."
Melo managed a nod.
"So if I had eaten only the main dish, I would have refused. But if the potato salad is a taste you can reach, then the other dishes can reach that same place in time."
"Yes."
"You will have to practice a great deal."
Melo rubbed her eyes once, then stood and looked straight at Romang, her first teacher.
"Yes!"
Romang's gaze shifted to Blow, who had been listening carefully.
"Young Master. You remember what I said earlier."
"I remember all of it."
"Those things were sincere. It is also true that most of them came from my distrust of you. If this lowly person offended you, I apologize."
"...I would have done the same."
"But your hunger came through very clearly. Not a hunger for cooking, exactly. A hunger of a different color."
Feeling as if he had been seen through, Blow scratched his head, awkward.
"I'm not a cook, after all."
"If I may presume to judge, selling roasted potatoes was a good idea, and so was the concept of the dish I just ate. It will sell very well. Of course it was a little strong for my palate, but if you mean to sell to many people, that intensity has its place."
"I appreciate you saying so."
"So I am going to try trusting you once. Melo is everything I have. This amounts to investing everything I have."
Her voice caught, as if her chest had closed, and she could not add another word. A moment later Luce, who had been watching with quiet satisfaction from beside her, rose and spoke to them all.
"We should be going."
"Already?"
"You have the evening service to run, don't you?"
Luce indicated the window. Sure enough, several students were lingering just outside, and among them Skadi had her face pressed to the glass, peering in.
"I mean to stay here another two days or so. Could we have lunch together?"
"Yes. Right now we're only open for breakfast and dinner."
"Good. Then I'll see you at lunch tomorrow. Meigan will help a little with the service."
Meigan, who had been standing beside the butler, stepped forward and bowed to Blow.
"Young Master. I am Meigan. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to put me to work."
"Oh—good! Couldn't have come at a better time. I was ready to borrow a cat's paw if that's what it took."
The others went out. Romang, last to remain, stood before her daughter.
"Mooom—"
Melo threw herself into the embrace, and Romang held her. A little time passed. Romang looked her straight in the eye, offered a small smile, and spoke.
"I truly enjoyed it."
With that she stroked Melo's hair and followed Luce out of the Nynix. The girl watched her mother's back recede and rubbed her eyes once more.
Blow let out a sigh of relief deep enough to sink the floor, stretched his arms overhead to loosen his shoulders, and spoke to the rest of them.
"Let's start getting ready."
"Couldn't we take the day off, just this once? I'm already wrung out."
Jane stood slumped against the wall, the soul gone from her face. Hans beside her was no better.
"We have to make money. A lot of it."
"I was joking. Shall I get the potatoes on the fire first?"
"Yeah. Melo, you're ready too?"
"Yes!"
She answered brightly and ran at once into her own world. One regret that ought to have remained was erased. So this was how a person could become this full, and how they could take the next step. His mood cleared. Blow clenched a fist once, then threw the inn's door open.
The evening service was no easy thing with everyone exhausted, but Rowbedi, officially joining from today, and Meigan, helping in earnest, saw them through it somehow. After closing, Rowbedi gathered his things and bowed politely to Blow.
"I'll be heading back."
"Yeah. You worked hard. Sorry about today. We weren't in great shape."
"Not at all. If it had been me, I couldn't even have opened. I think you're remarkable."
"At least it's Friday. We don't do breakfast on the weekend, so we'll be fine. Sunday we're closed entirely."
"That's a relief. Then I'll be going."
A sharp voice cut in between them.
"Hey! You're leaving?"
"Yes? I have an assignment."
"You can do the assignment when you're dead!"
Red-haired Skadi was, once again today, putting away more than thirty beers.
"Our little head chef defended her place on a historic day, and you're trying to leave?!"
"I-I'm sorry. It's a team project. If I don't do it, Linne will kill me."
"So that green-haired, freckled four-eyes is scarier than I am, is she?"
Skadi's eyes went razor-sharp. Rowbedi did his best to ignore the killing intent pouring off her, finished his goodbye in a rush, and fled outside.
"Hey, Blow. What year is he?"
"Second year. And aren't you being too hard on the kid?"
"He made me angry! This rage isn't going to settle until I eat that potato salad and sausage the Baroness had!"
"Do you even know how much that costs?"
"How much does it need to be?"
Three gold landed on the table with a thunk. Blow shot to his feet and bowed.
"It would be my honor to serve you. How much curry powder shall I add?"
"That, of course, I'll leave to the head chef!"
"We'll make it as delicious as we possibly can."
"As you properly should! Umhaha!"
About the time Melo, giggling at them from the kitchen, started frying the tomato sauce, Meigan finished clearing the other tables and the dishes, came up to Blow, and offered a bow.
"Young Master. Shall I tidy the second and third floors as well?"
"The second and third? Why?"
"The rooms, just once—"
"No!!!"
Jane cut in hard before he could answer.
"M-my room, I'll take care of it myself. Haha!"
Something in that desperate tone made it feel as if she absolutely had to, and Blow shook his head at Meigan.
"Meigan, shouldn't you rest today too? You probably haven't even shaken off the travel yet."
"Ah. Then I'll see to it tomorrow morning. Thank you for your consideration, Young Master."
"Right. Will you sit and have a beer too?"
"Would that be all right?"
"Jane and Hans are drinking. Why not."
Only then did Meigan take a seat. Beside her, Hans was already drunk, tears running as he murmured over and over that it was a relief, it was a relief. Talking to him looked like it would only wear a person out, so Blow headed straight for the kitchen. The two dishes Skadi had wanted so badly were just finished.
"It's ooout! Red and Yellow!"
"Good. You worked hard, Melo. You should rest too."
"Young Master! I'm really not tired at all. It's not even my bedtime yet."
"You stayed up all last night too. We'll handle what's left, so go upstairs and sleep."
"J-just let me see her reaction first."
She could not quite hide how curious she was about Skadi. Blow decided to allow her that much.
"Fine."
"I'll wash my hands and be right there!"
Blow set the two plates in front of Skadi, and she immediately put the potato salad in her mouth. A moment later her eyes flew open. She shuddered, then shouted.
"This is seriously to die for!!!"
"Hehe."
Melo was dying of joy at the reaction, and Blow looked every bit as proud.
"Chef!! Any interest in becoming the exclusive cook of our estate?"
"Don't cross the line."
"This sausage is insane! Insane! This yellow powder—this comes from Parso?"
"Yeah."
"I should tell Father to invade."
"...You're joking, right?"
"Of course I'm joking!! Umhaha! Three beers, and make them quick! And Chef—this."
Skadi suddenly held out one gold to Melo. Melo hesitated, then quietly took it.
"This is! My! Tip! For the head chef!"
"Th-thank you."
"And what will you do with it?"
"I'm going to buy a knife, or something like that!!"
"Aigoo, you're adorable!!"
She grabbed Melo and rubbed her cheek against the girl's. That was when Blow spoke to Skadi in a deliberately serious tone.
"Skadi!"
He looked at her with a straight face. Skadi did not yield.
"What?"
"Tips are forbidden in our shop."
"Huh?"
"Tips are banned here."
"Since when does a rule like that exist?"
"Here."
Blow pointed at the floor. Skadi stared at him as if she had bitten into something foul. Melo and Hans tilted their heads, wondering whether such a rule had ever existed. Melo's face, especially, was drooping. She had already decided in her heart what she was going to buy.
"But! Allowance given because Melo is cute is permitted!"
Skadi burst out laughing at his cheerful voice, immediately pulled out a few silver coins, and pressed them into Melo's hands.
"A perfectly reasonable rule! Here! Take more allowance! Become the strongest chef there is!"
"Waaah!"
Melo accepted without refusing, her face brightening all the way, and Skadi took a beer in each hand and started drinking. Amid that atmosphere, Meigan—the estate maid, with no close friend among those who remained—quietly took in the mood of the place.
...This is better than I expected?
When she had first said she would follow Romang and Luce, every maid around her had tried, with one voice, to stop her.
"What are you going to do if that man Blow gets his memory back!"
Lately a rumor had been circulating hard among the estate maids: that Blow's present eccentricities were only because he had lost his memory.
"He might only be pretending to be normal inside the estate."
"Right! The arrows might come flying at you, and you haven't done a thing!"
"Then what about the Young Master trading Jane for Drenor?"
"M-maybe the Young Master likes Jane!"
The dissuasion went on after that, but Meigan chose the journey to Caipol anyway, thinking it would not be so bad to see Hervena's face even once. And in this inn she had been astonished that Blow Deblique—the old scoundrel—had tried to persuade Romang, a mere servant. When he said he would even sell his own bed, her feelings had been shaken. On top of that, having tasted Melo's food herself, she could see with her own eyes that his conception and his plan were not wrong.
Even then, she had not believed he had sold two hundred portions on the first day. She had taken it for exaggeration.
...But what if, by some chance, it was true? What if business really was good enough to move two hundred portions?
Thinking there might be something to it, she wrapped her curiosity neatly in goodwill and told Luce she would help with Blow's work. Her real intention had been to watch his evening service once. And she confirmed, with her own two eyes, that his words had been neither empty nor exaggerated. He had come out himself to apologize and turn away more than ten parties, and the takeout potatoes had sold out without a single hitch.
This is going to work. Without a doubt.
Meigan Browngrass's father had always told her that a maid might look low, depending on how you saw it, but that it was a vocation which could soar with luck—so she must always keep her back straight and give her best to what she was given, and when the chance came someday, she must seize it. Of course her father had probably not meant a moment like this. She was the sort of person with enough sense to fit a thing like that into place well enough.
So she meant to grab a lifeline that had never even been lowered—one she would not have caught even if it had. She knew, by instinct and very well, that it had to be now, at this moment, before Blow had properly grown. She was not the type to brood for long. She walked up to Blow, who was drinking pleasantly with Skadi.
"Young Master."
"Hm? Right—time for you to head in? You worked hard today."
"My name is Meigan Browngrass."
"Ah, right, right. Now that you mention it, your face is pretty familiar. How many years have you worked at the estate?"
"I saw you even before you went up to Caipol, so it has been nearly seven years. Before that I saw you a few times at Hervena's side."
"Ah? The quiet one who was always beside Hervena..."
"Thank you for remembering."
Meigan lifted her skirt as she bowed. Hans and Jane at the next table were just as flustered, glancing at each other.
"I didn't mean to overhear, but it seemed you intend to pursue several ventures from here on."
"That's right."
"Then it seemed you'll need a great many hands."
"True."
"If you will take me, I will more than earn my place."
Caught off guard by the sudden interview, Blow studied her face. A neatly kept black bob. Eyes that called a cat to mind, and lips closed in calm. Her back was held perfectly straight, and though she was soft, a stubbornness remained in her.
"I... don't know you well."
"Young Master, at the estate I managed Lady Luce's flowers and paintings."
At that, Blow's eyes could not help but go round. Flowers and paintings were the very things his mother, Luce, watched over most meticulously. Thinking back, even in today's work she had been as skilled as someone who had done it for a long time—so skilled that at some point he had found himself calling for her more than for Rowbedi. He was grateful for how seriously Meigan spoke, but there was one large problem.
"I appreciate the offer, but I can't pay a wage right now. Hans and Jane already have theirs."
"Until you have found your footing, room and board will be enough. In exchange, please remember that I spoke to you at this moment."
Meigan stood bolt upright as she said it. Blow was just about to fall into thought at that resolute tone when a thoroughly out-of-place voice came from the door.
"What? Did I hear that wrong just now?"
Hervena, who had barely finished her assignment and come to the inn with a swelling heart, stood there as if a bolt from a clear sky had struck her.