Chapter 104

When Happiness Follows Happiness, the Result Is a Parfait “How does one eat a parfait like this one?! Actually, why is this even happening?!” “Oh, come on, Lady Aileen. You joined our group uninvited. These are best attacked from the top; start there!” “Oh— Wait a moment, Lady Lilia and Lady Aileen. I’ll portion it out. If you force it, it will collapse!” “Hang on, Rachel. You work from that side; I’ll scoop from this one.” “You know… Even the six of us may not be able to finish this…” “You mustn’t push yourself, Miss Roxane. If you start feeling unwell, tell m— Oh! Oh no, it’s collapsi—” As everyone cries out, the cake that’s perched on the very top tumbles off. Rachel deftly catches it with a plate. Sighing with relief, the spectators clap, and then the applause dissolves in a burst of laughter. That’s what’s happening at the next table over. “Why exactly did we reserve the whole shop for this?!” Isaac screams. Claude tilts his head in confusion. “Well, if Aileen’s going out, then I want to go, too.” “Okay, look! You’re the emperor! Remember your position!!” “Hear, hear. You’re being a little too careless,” the holy king says impassively from the seat next to Claude’s. “Never mind, let’s divide this up. You were fond of citrus, weren’t you, holy king? Here you go.” “Hey, that’s considerate. Thanks.” “Hang on, Keith. Why is he first? I should be first.” “Yes, yes. I’ll give you lots of strawberries, milord. And you wanted cream, right, Bel? Ares, you can serve yourself.” “Uh, right…” The demon king’s brilliant adviser expertly splits the enormous parfait into manageable portions. Isaac is clutching his head. One table over, Auguste and Walt are digging their spoons directly into the parfait—the idea of dividing it up hasn’t even occurred to them—while Kyle and Elefas are yelling at them. “You’ll knock the whole thing down, you two! You’re eating like pigs!” “That’s right! Everyone should be given a fair share! Oh— The melon’s already gone… No…” “Elefas, at times like this, victory always goes to the swift. Huh? You’re not gonna eat, James?” “I don’t need any. Watching you people made me lose my appetite… Auguste, why did you just put a half-eaten scoop of ice cream on my plate?!” “Huh? Well, I tried it and decided I’m not a fan of that flavor— Ow! You didn’t have to hit me!” In the end, James seems to decide that actively joining the fray is the better option, and he starts eating furiously. They seem like they’re having fun, Claude thinks, then returns his attention to Isaac at the neighboring table. “I wanted to celebrate Auguste’s engagement, and James will probably go to Mirchetta with him this spring. Before that happens, I wanted our group to make a memory together.” “I mean, I get that. I’m just asking why it had to be parfaits.” “What are you saying, Isaac Lombard?! This is a battle requiring sophisticated strategy!” With inexplicable arrogance, some fellow with glasses shouts from directly across the table. He’s pretty sure his name started with “L”… He’s sitting at Cedric’s table, so remembering his name probably wouldn’t hurt. However, lately, he’s started to think he could take a cue from Marcus the “instrument” and just call this fellow “spectacles.” “Listen up! Your table and mine will compete to see who can polish off their parfait first!” “Then hurry up and eat, Lester. It’s going to melt… Cedric, you look pale. Are you all right?” “Y-yes, Marcus… Somehow… How can Lilia eat this as if it’s nothing…?” “Some say women have a separate stomach for stuff like this, so— Oh, water, wash it down with water!” “Stop it, Gilbert, you’ll make him feel sicker. Actually, I don’t feel so great myself…” Even if he can’t remember any of their names, Cedric is surrounded by people, so evidently he does have friends. Getting yelled at seems to have left Isaac worn out, or maybe he’s just resigned himself. With a sigh, he sits back down. Quartz and Luc are hard at work dividing up that table’s parfait. “Okay, Denis, here’s an extra-big helping. You want an extra-big one too, don’t you, Master Isaac?” “Of course I don’t; you know I’m not good with sweet stuff! Knock it off, don’t load that up with whipped cream. This is harassment!” “For men your uncle Jasper’s age, this is kinda rough. If you could make mine mostly fruit— Oh, okay, guess not, huh.” “…Still… How do you suppose they make these?” “Oh, I was wondering about that myself! At this level, these parfaits are basically construction projects. Lifting that dish takes both hands.” When all’s said and done, they seem to be enjoying themselves. There’s Cedric’s table, the table James seems to have taken charge of, Isaac’s table, his own table—where Keith is efficiently serving the rest of them—and Aileen’s table. They’re all attacking their parfaits in different ways, and it’s all rather fascinating. “This is a rare opportunity. In order to grow closer as a group, why don’t we say the members of the first table to finish their parfait get to give any orders they like to the rest, provided those orders can be carried out completely within a day?” Instantly, the restaurant goes dead silent. Even the women’s table is listening, although they’d been chatting so cheerfully the men might as well as not have been there at all. The only one who readily agrees is the holy king. “We don’t mind, but you can use magic, and we can use sacred power, so our table’s bound to win. The victor is already clear.” “That’s true. We’ll say no one’s allowed to use sacred power or magic then. All right, let’s give it our best.” “Uh, we haven’t agreed to this yet.” Isaac is glaring daggers at him, but Claude ignores him and goes on calmly. “When we win this, I’m torn between ordering everyone to perform the Love-Love Dance or do something else.” That lights a fire in everyone’s eyes. From Claude’s perspective, the plan has injected a lot of life into the party. The battle is fueled by the determination to avoid obeying the most painful of orders. Isaac tries to slip Luc a laxative. As James’s group is about to finish their parfait, Lester’s group sneaks some of their table’s ice cream and fruit onto it. Conspiracies and treachery fly every which way in the battle to conquer the parfaits, and the winner is— “Congratulations, Lady Aileen.” “Well, this was the only way it could end, really.” Aileen gives a smug little laugh. Isaac groans; he’s pale from overeating. “I was sure the demon king’s group would sabotage your group somehow!” “Why? Who wouldn’t want to make his adorable wife’s wish come true?” Claude nods nonchalantly. As before, the holy king is the only one who agrees with him. “In any case, we don’t have to do stuff like this to give orders. We can do that whenever we want. We’re the holy king and demon king.” “True. I don’t see much value in giving orders to others. Actually, I’d like someone to give me an order sometime.” “…I’m sure I had no chance in the power struggle because I couldn’t be someone like that,” Cedric says, as if he feels this loss keenly. Ignoring his strangely profound remark, Claude looks at the colorful women’s table, where the victors are clapping and celebrating. “Now then, my empress. What order will you give me?” Aileen flushes a little, then clears her throat in an affected way. “Let me see…” His sister-in-law leans out from behind her. “Here, over here! What about reenacting the game art?!” He doesn’t know what she means, but Aileen snaps at her. “As I keep telling you repeatedly, stop doing that! If you insist, then limit your order to Cedric and the others—” “Too late, I already gave it!” “Oh, I see… To think you’d use your only request on something like that.” “Are you sure, Lady Aileen? You don’t want to see that scene of the demon king on his knees, begging you to love him?” “……” For some reason, his wife falls silent. Lilia looks triumphant. From beside her, Serena cuts in, sounding completely fed up with her rambling. “Who cares about that? I don’t need it. I’ll settle for a purse of gold.” “For you, Serena, I recommend the scene where you make the student council members carry your purchases while you shop! With their money, of course.” “I’ll take that.” “Wha—? Wouldn’t that be cheating on me, Serena?!” “Oh, be quiet. I’ll be helping myself to the contents of the cambion and human weapons’ coin purses.” “You’ve got to be kidding.” Walt and the others’ faces tense up. “Unfortunately, Rachel, you’re out of luck. Your fiancé is a mob character.” “Who’s a mob character?!” Isaac shouts back on reflex. He doesn’t notice that Rachel’s eyes widen, and then she looks a little happy. “Oh! Buuut in the fan disc, there was a scene where Serena picked out clothes for you, so how about letting the student council members serve you along with her?!” “I—I see… Um, in other words, are you saying that Serena and I should order them to go shopping with us?” “Why not? Anything’s fine, as long as they treat you. If you’re worried, mob fiancé, you could shadow them.” “Like I said, who’s a mob character?!” “For Lady Roxane and Sahra, I recommend—” “I will allow no one to issue orders to Master Baal,” the holy king’s consort declares flatly, her voice cutting through the noise. Baal seems to pick up on the ominous mood; his eyes gleam as if he’s impressed. “Roxane… You are definitely our wife.” “You have a particular talent for sword dancing, don’t you, Master Baal. That scene of you and Ares on that stage of flames was incredibly dashing.” “I shall go with that, then.” “Roxane?! And wait, a stage of flames? You can’t mean that sword dance, can you? The really hot, tiresome one?!” “I don’t need Master Ares, though. Master Baal alone will do.” “What?! I need him! Please put him in.” “Sahra. That takes practice, and frankly, I don’t want to—” “I bet you’ll look amazing. I can’t wait to see it, Ares!” Claude has a hunch that the artlessness the Daughter of God uses to egg on her husband isn’t just foolish naivete anymore. “That’s settled, then!” “And you? What are you going to ask for?” “I… I’m fine. I already got what I wanted anyway!” “…‘A commoner like you, the Maid of the Sacred Sword? You can’t be serious.’” Aileen’s abrupt, theatrical-sounding declaration bewilders Claude. As everyone—even Lilia—looks stunned, Aileen flashes a dauntless smile. “‘Master Cedric has misinterpreted something. If that’s clear, then get out of my way.’” Crossing her legs, she gives a mocking, villainous smile. While Claude blinks at his wife, Lilia hurls herself at her, clinging to her. Aileen is thrown off-balance by the other woman’s momentum, and the back of her head thunks against the wall. “Omigosh-omigosh-omigosh, Lady Aileen, that was absolutely perfect! I love you!” “I see, how nice for you!! Then go reenact that other scene one more time, with Prince Cedric, and do it right.” “I’ll do that,” Lilia tells her. She and Aileen seem to share something he doesn’t know about. Still, the idea doesn’t make him anxious. After all, when he glances at his half brother, Cedric has apparently picked up on the same thing he has, and his lips are pursed. That means it’s probably fine. The four who are being forced to go shopping with Serena and Rachel, and the holy king and his general, who’ve been compelled to practice their sword dance, will no doubt be fine as well. At present, then, what Claude should do is… “U-um, Master Claude. That was—” “—You steal everything from me. I loathe you, and I adore you to the point of madness.” First things first: He must kneel and beg for his wife’s love, so that she won’t go anywhere. “I offer up my love, body and soul, and my heart itself. In return, please, give your everything to me.” Aileen’s cheeks are flushed, and she listens rapturously. Partway through, she gathers herself with a jolt, realizing that they’re causing a scene. Even so, at the end, she smiles happily and saves the demon king with her love.