When she bit down, a vague smile appeared on her face. “It’s a little bitter, but aromatic. The naebs must have been grown with care.”
I’ve tried eating them before, and they don’t taste very good. I felt like I’d made a strange recommendation—another failure.
But Miss Kiyori said, “This is the sort of topic I like,” which made me blush again. “You really know your stuff, huh, Mr. Jaysohlbrother? I think if you share those sorts of stories as you cook, your customers will enjoy it.”
To think my naeb knowledge would come in handy. I always thought interesting conversations were the funny things Miss Haru brought up, but Miss Kiyori seems to enjoy this sort of thing. In that case, I actually have plenty to talk about. When it comes to cooking, I’m pretty confident. Recently, at least.
The apple flower absorbed the hot water and its rotation slowed down, its petals opening on the surface. I scooped it out and placed the finished tea in front of Miss Kiyori.
“Thanks.” She held the cup in both hands and smelled it with a happy look on her face. When she took a sip, she said, “Tastes weird,” with a smile. “But it’s good. I like the apple aroma. Despite the potent bitterness, it has a smooth aftertaste. I guess you could say it’s a sophisticated flavor?”
Miss Kiyori complimented me, but I’m a cook with a fair amount of training, so I can understand honest feelings from expressions to some extent. I don’t think it’s a flavor that Miss Kiyori—or really any young woman—is bound to like.
So then why did I serve it to her? Maybe I was being sort of cocky. Miss Kiyori is always happy to eat what I cook, even if I mess up a bit.
I asked if she would rather have normal tea. But she said that she liked this kind of tea too and politely refused.
I just remembered. I was baking a cake.
Today I was practicing for my cooking school, so I felt bad that it was just a plain round cake, but I served it as a “thank you for going along with my practice session.”
Miss Kiyori politely refused, but I needed the validation, so I stubbornly thrust it at her in silence. I was tenacious. Miss Haru says that pushing is the foundation of both love and sumo. Not that this was love or sumo.
“All right, if you insist.” When she took a bite of the cake, she pressed her hands to her cheeks with a blissful look on her face and said, “Mmm.” It struck me that a pretty person really is pretty while eating, too.
“The natural fragrance and sweetness of the ream grass spreads through your mouth like a meadow. And the texture and softness of the cake support and envelope it. That’s because the cake is well-made and the amount of ream grass used is just right. And the berries have been cooked properly to mellow out their acidity. All your work overflows with care and kindness. I feel so floaty and happy, like I’m napping—or maybe gazing at the clouds—on a hill where ream and berries are blooming. It’s so delicious.”
Wow, though, she was unusually talented at conveying her impressions. If there were a job that was just enjoying lots of food in front of people and giving your impressions, she could definitely make a living doing it. If there were a job like that...
“And it looks cute, too. That’s important.” It seemed like I had managed to make it instaworthy, too. I’ve really been working on that lately. “A cake is such a mysterious dish. Did you learn this from Miss Haru?”
I cook more than just the cafe’s menu. Much of it is things I learned from Miss Haru or recipes we came up with together. But I explained how the cake was different. What I heard is that my predecessor’s predecessor recreated it based on an explanation from the boy adventurer (the same one who gave mangameat its name).
Miss Haru is familiar with lots of evolved forms of cake, so I learned improvements and new techniques, but the base is still from my predecessors’ recipe book. When they put it on the menu, none of the customers were interested in it, so the recipe had been shelved for a long time.
Miss Kiyori seemed surprised—from about the time I mentioned the boy adventurer.
“Umm...is something wrong?”
“No, err...” She wondered if maybe that boy adventurer was from the same town as Miss Haru, her voice shaking. If I looked closely, her hands seemed to be shaking, too.
“But the demon lord is still alive. Maybe tons of heroes have been coming for ages. Yet no one has been able to defeat the demon lord. Our enemy deep in the forest is so horrible that no hero up to this point has been able to defeat him...” Miss Kiyori was murmuring about something, but I didn’t really get it.
What’s wrong? Why is she talking about the demon lord while eating cake? Leave it to someone who finds my conversations interesting to change the topic in such an eccentric way. But I don’t know anything about the demon lord or adventurers. I have nothing to do with any of that.
“Mr. Jaysohlbrother.”
“Uh, yes?”
“We want Miss Haru to stay smiling here with us, right? We want her to live a long life, right? We want to change the world with her, right?”
It was so sudden that I hesitated, but considering it was Miss Haru, I agreed. Wishing her many smiles and a long life, I nodded, sandwiching my neck flesh.
“Then we can’t leave everything to Miss Haru. This is our problem, so we can’t be so quick to give up. I have to get stronger, too.” She spoke quietly as if talking to herself. I feel like it’s pretty rare for a Sister to want to get strong. Maybe she really is a bit of an odd one.
I realize I’m an odd cook, and Miss Haru is probably an odd sex worker, so maybe my generation of this cafe is going to be kind of crazy.
“So, Mr. Jaysohlbrother, do you know any combat techniques?”
Finally Miss Kiyori lost me. I’m a cook. I’m aiming to be a celebrity chef. Even if I went to the battlefield, it would be to run the kitchen. But when I met her powerful gaze, or rather, gazed into her big eyes, I felt pressured to come up with an answer. I broke into something like a cold sweat.
“Actually, I am learning something called sumo from Miss Haru.”
“What? From Miss Haru herself? So your name means ‘warrior’? She must expect great things from you. I’m jealous.”
Really? I was a bit embarrassed.
“So what kind of moves do you use?”
“Umm, okay, well, I’ll try to show you.” I felt a bit silly, but moved into an open area.
Since Miss Haru made it to number three in sales at Blue Cat Nocturne, she moved into a bigger room. So she said, “Well, since I have the space, I’ll teach you sumo,” and that’s how my training began.
Honestly, I thought she was going to do some new kind of thing that would feel good, but instead she threw my lecherous butt without breaking a sweat. The fact that Miss Haru, who was so thin and small, could pick me up was surprising, but I was also surprised by how insistent she was about doing sumo every time we went up to the second floor.