Evening, the same day.
Dinner had been served, but Monstro still lingered in the kitchen. Even with cooking duties done for the day, it was not as though he was afforded the chance to rest. There was prep work to do for the coming day, and beyond that, he still had to consider the menu for the Moonlight Feast.
Beelzé was fond of the light that shone from the lunar surface and had a “Moonlight Feast” once a month on the night the moon was at its fullest. Of course, given that he desired a quiet, undisturbed life, the festivities hardly qualified as exciting. The only thing separating the occasion from any other day was the quality of the evening’s meal. It had to be special. Monstro had been able to satisfy the man so far, but serving a unique dish once a month was taxing. After thirty years, he was beginning to run out of ideas.
Still, across three decades, Monstro had managed to serve nothing but delicious gourmet food each time. Not once had he cut any corners. In ensuring that Beelzé’s life lived up to his wishes, he had not rested for even one day. It was just as the man had said: he wanted a tranquil life spent enjoying excellent food. That was Monstro’s charge.
Monstro had grown quite confident in his ability to fulfill the latter condition, but the matter of preserving Beelzé’s peace had presented a problem. When the money began to dry up, it became increasingly difficult to provide for the man’s lifestyle. It was then that Monstro had devised a plan: he asked Beelzé to release devil flies to attack a suitable town. He had figured that, were he able to protect the township before anyone fell victim to the swarm, he would become a hero and then, surely, find the means to continue serving Beelzé.
The plan had been wildly successful. After Monstro displayed dauntless courage in opposing the devil flies, he immediately gained the renown of a hero. The people of the small port town where it all went down quickly entrusted him with the position of mayor. It was the first time in history that the stampede had been held at bay anywhere, and reports of Monstro’s triumph spread across the entire kingdom like wildfire. Soon, immigrants from all over poured in seeking a safe refuge, and the town, once no more than a small village, developed into the greatest entrepôt in all the country.
Still, though fame, fortune, and status had fallen into his lap, Monstro had been afforded no room to enjoy any of it. The knowledge that Beelzé was ready to kill him should he ever offend or fail hung over everything and denied his heart even a moment’s repose.
“Excuse me,” someone said. He had finished his prep work and was considering the menu for the feast when a hybrid maid entered the room to speak with him. It was the server he had hired to replace Tigaro, whom he’d dismissed just the other day. She, too, was a beautiful server—an asset which, along with attractive tableware, was indispensable to creating a gourmet dining experience for Beelzé—but not like Tigaro had been.
“I brought back the plates. Additionally, Beelzé asked me to bring you a message,” she said.
“Beelzé did? Did he have something to say about the food?”
“No, he did not have any words to share in relation to the meal. He has requested a meeting with you, Mr. Monstro.”
“He wants to...meet with me?” Monstro asked. The notion assaulted him with an indescribable discomfort. Beelzé had not once summoned him in thirty years. Far from it: they had not even met face-to-face in decades. Suddenly, the same Beelzé who had been content with that distance all this time had said he wanted to see Monstro. There was no world in which the man intended to make small talk. Monstro could think of no possible reason Beelzé would call on him unless it had to do with his cooking.
His food, though, had been perfect. Not even once in all those years had he incurred a poor reception. That being the case—
“You! You disrespected him somehow, didn’t you?” he shouted.
“N-No, I only served the meal as per your instructions! I did as you asked and did not open my mouth to speak even once!” the server girl said. Though it was undeniably possible that she’d messed up in some way or another, her easily frightened disposition didn’t square with the type of insolence that would lead one to disturb a meal with one’s words or behavior. She was too passive. And so the reason for his summoning had to be related to the food.
In any case, it would not do to keep Beelzé waiting.
“I understand. Get out of here and back to your room.”
“Certainly, Mr. Monstro,” she said and bowed deeply. She placed the dishes in the sink and promptly exited. A feeling of dejection settled over Monstro as he grabbed a light and left the mansion. Outside, the sun had already fallen below the horizon. The wind blew over the manor grounds with an eerie noise as he made his way toward the lighthouse, perched as it was on the edge of its precipitous cliff. When no response came after Monstro knocked on the timeworn door, he stepped cautiously inside.
“Master Beelzé... Master Beelzé, where are you...?” he called in a trembling voice. The droning sound of an insect near his ear assaulted his senses. A fly was zipping back and forth before his face. Once he noticed it, it flew off toward the hallway as if guiding him onward.
He followed the insect and found himself in the dining room. Moonlight poured in through a huge window. In the lunar glow was an elderly man wrapped in a tailcoat and sitting upon a single chair.
Monstro had not seen him in thirty years, but Beelzé’s appearance had hardly changed at all. Though he wished the man’s life would come to an end, Beelzé was no mere man. He was a monster. Monstro hadn’t the faintest idea how many more years Beelzé might last.
“S-Sorry to have kept you waiting, Master. What can I do for you today...?” Monstro asked, seized by a sense of unease. Beelzé met his question with ice-cold eyes.
“What do you plan to make for the next Moonlight Feast?” he asked. The moment he heard the words, Monstro felt as though he had been rescued. He had not, he realized, incurred Beelzé’s displeasure with the meal. He had simply been called so that the man could ask a question.
“Well, the Moonlight Feast is an occasion of great import, of course... Rest assured I endeavor to satisfy your standards, but to do so, I need time to carefully consider every option, and... Well, should you have any requests, I would be glad to hear them, Master,” Monstro said.
Beelzé was silent for a time.
“I’ve been thinking as of late...that your cooking could use a touch of improvement. This Moonlight Feast, you’ll use ingredients of my choosing,” he said. Monstro’s heart tightened into a knot at the criticism.
“I-I understand, Master. I’ve no doubt that I can obtain whatever ingredients you like and use them in the dish. So, wh-what might these...ingredients be, Master?”
“Human flesh.”
Monstro didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, wh-what was that just now?” he asked.
Beelzé furrowed his brows, evidently not happy to have to repeat himself. “Human flesh. It’s been quite some time since I’ve eaten human flesh. Of course, I’m particular about the selection of stock: I prefer the meat of a beautiful girl, so... Ah, yes. That hybrid girl—the one who brought my food until a few days ago—would be quite suitable.”
“Y-You mean—”
“What is it? If you’ve some objection, voice it now.” Beelzé looked at Monstro with a cruel gaze that seemed to prohibit him from replying regardless of what he might say. He immediately shook his head.
“N-No, no. I have no objections! I promise to put my all into making a dish suited to your preferences, Master Beelzé!”
“Then there is nothing more to say. Be gone.”
“Right away, Master,” Monstro said and exited the lighthouse as his heart pounded in his chest.
It’s just awful... This is awful. Awful, awful, awful!
He left the scene as if he were running away, roughly scratching at his head all the while. Dread and apprehension welled up in his chest and threatened to burst him open from within.
Tigaro was no longer there. She’d treated him with impudence and he had fired her on the spot. He could fake the ingredients, but if Beelzé saw through the deception, Monstro would be killed.
No matter what it took, he had to bring Tigaro back. He’d kill her with his own two hands and cook her into Beelzé’s feast. There was no other way.
Tigaro... She comes from Hybrid Town, doesn’t she?
The Moonlight Feast was his first priority, but he still couldn’t neglect his daily culinary duties. He’d have to send an idle maid to find and retrieve Tigaro.
Spurred forward by an unspeakable, impatient unease, Monstro retraced his steps to the mansion.