On the second day of Mrs. Molière’s visit, she decided to show me the slime duke family’s chestnut trees, since they were in season.
“This way, Miss Francette!”
“C-Coming!”
This part of the yard was so vast and nature rich that it might as well have been a forest. Mrs. Molière was making her way through with ease, but I was lagging behind.
“Fra, are you okay?” Wibble asked, peering into my face with concern.
“Yes, I can keep going.”
About ten more minutes of walking later, we arrived at our destination. My eyes were greeted by the sight of many chestnut trees, their spiny burrs scattered on the ground.
“This is the place!” Mrs. Molière announced. “With chestnuts, you don’t pick them from the trees. You gather the ones that have fallen to the grou— Ah!”
“What’s the matter?”
“It just came back to me. Gardeners used to remove the burrs for us by stomping on them.”
“I’ll give it a try, then.”
“It’s too dangerous. What if they stab through your shoe?”
As we pondered what to do, Wibble raised a tentacle and said, “Wibble can do it!” It swallowed up a nearby burr, bounced on the spot a few times, then spat out the spiky shell followed by the chestnuts that had been within.
“You’re incredible, Wibble!” Mrs. Molière exclaimed.
“Heh heh!” The slime basked in the praise.
“There’s plenty more over there!”
“Leave it to Wibble!”
In no time at all, we had a basket full of chestnuts.
“Mrs. Molière, what did your family make with these chestnuts?” I asked, knowing that Triste had its own traditional sweets.
Her response surprised me. “We roasted them over an open fire! They’re delicious when they’re piping hot. I’d like to recreate that flavor today.”
“Let’s ask the gardeners to help, then.”
“Yes!”
The bonfire was prepared under Mrs. Molière’s direction. Apparently firewood couldn’t be used as fuel—it had to be fire magicite to ensure that the chestnuts wouldn’t burn. Once the fire was ready, the next step was roasting them, but...
“Now then, let’s put the chestnuts in the flame.”
“M-Mrs. Molière!” one of the gardeners interjected. “If you roast them as they are, the chestnuts will explode.”
“Oh, is that so?”
The rest of the gardeners nodded and said we had to use a knife to cut slits in the chestnuts first, which they helped us with. The key was to score all the way through the shell, reaching the inner skin. Mrs. Molière didn’t cook—and thus was unaccustomed to handling a knife—so she merely watched us work.
After we prepared the chestnuts, then it was time to begin roasting. We placed them in the magicite-powered fire and waited thirty minutes. With that, the roasted chestnuts were ready to eat. One of the gardeners split the shells open with gloved hands.
I sampled one of the beautiful yellow pieces. “Oh, it’s sweet!”
Mrs. Molière giggled. “Isn’t it?”
The chestnuts were tender and surprisingly sweet. The thorough roasting must’ve enhanced their flavor.
“I missed this so much!” Mrs. Molière exclaimed, moved by the nostalgic treat. “My dream’s come true thanks to you, Miss Francette.”
“I didn’t do anything special, though.”
“You got me to talk about the chestnut trees in the yard, didn’t you? I’d forgotten about them for so long. This couldn’t have happened without you.”
“I’m, um, honored to hear that.”
As we were eating the roasted chestnuts, my mother-in-law, who had been taking a walk in the garden, approached us.
“What are you two doing over there?” she asked.
“We were roasting chestnuts, Maria. It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”
“Oh my!”
As Mrs. Molière began to offer my mother-in-law one, her hand froze midway. “Come to think of it, you always said you didn’t want any.”
“That was because I simply wasn’t allowed to have them since my attendant would scold me if I got soot all over my dress.”
“I see. My nanny forbade me from eating them too, but she wouldn’t give me a reason, so I secretly requested the gardener make them for me.”
My mother-in-law sighed at her sister’s rebellious past. “I envy how easy you had it.”
“I sympathize, truly. You were the eldest child, so you had to endure a lot.”
“Yes, but I no longer need to.” My mother-in-law gave a faint smile and held out her hand. “Julietta, may I have a roasted chestnut?”
“Of course!” Mrs. Molière happily handed one over.
A look of surprise came over my mother-in-law’s face as she ate the forbidden treat for the first time. “It’s just a roasted chestnut, but it’s so delicious!”
“Yes, indeed.”
“It’s no wonder you defied your nanny’s orders just to eat some.”
With a warm smile, I listened to my mother-in-law and Mrs. Molière reminisce about their childhood.
✦ ✦ ✦
A few days later, I received a reply to the letter I’d sent Emilie. Constance, the family steward, brought it to me on a silver tray.
“Lady Francette, a letter from the ogre duke.”
“Thank you.”
She had even prepared a paper knife, stationery, and a reply envelope, which she handed over to me before bowing respectfully and leaving the room.
I opened Emilie’s letter, and the contents turned out to be greatly disappointing. As Gabriel had said, sales of aurora pearls were currently suspended. The reason was that the lake where they were cultivated had become polluted, preventing their production. There had been efforts to purify the lake over the past few years, but none had been successful, putting the business in a tough spot.
Emilie’s uncle had been in charge of aurora pearl production, and even he didn’t know what was causing the issue. He also wanted to keep this fact behind closed doors because it would bring shame to the family. Emilie, however, held the opposite opinion. As the new ogre duke, she wanted to publicize the issue and seek new solutions from external parties.
At any rate, things weren’t going well for them at the moment, so it was impossible to obtain aurora pearls. My shoulders slumped.
I shared this information with Gabriel and my mother-in-law, both of whom were also disappointed. Well, there are plenty of pearls in the world. Even without the aurora pearls, we can still make a wonderful wedding outfit—or so I thought, but...
Later, a jeweler came from the capital to show us various types of pearls. The ones he showed us had been carefully selected, and he was proud of them. However, none could compare to the aurora pearls I remembered seeing. My mother-in-law wasn’t particularly impressed either.
We summoned several other jewelers to show us their wares, but none of the pearls felt right. My inner desire for a wedding dress adorned with aurora pearls became stronger by the day.
After buying an unrelated piece of jewelry from the latest merchant and sending him on his way, I confided, “Mother, I think imagining the dress with aurora pearls made it so that I can’t be satisfied with anything else.”
“Funny you should say that, Miss Francette—I was thinking the same thing.”
But the aurora pearls were unattainable. I knew I’d have to compromise, but I just couldn’t bring myself to. I heaved a sigh, not knowing what to do.
Just then, a letter from Emilie arrived. She wished to visit Triste, and naturally, I replied, “We’d love to have you.”
The day of her visit came in no time. Gabriel, my mother-in-law, and I got ready to greet her. She would be the third monster duke to visit this land—the first two being Prince Axel, the dragon duke, and Lady Magritte, the siren duke. Welcoming the ogre duke was nerve-racking, even if we were pen pals. I waited anxiously in the drawing room, and at last, she arrived.
“Thank you for allowing me to visit, Your Grace,” Emilie said.
“You’re always welcome here,” Gabriel replied.
Emilie looked relieved. She turned to me and said, “It’s been a while, Lady Francette! I was really hoping to see you again!”
She gave me quite the powerful hug—her small frame belying her strength. As we pulled back, our bracelets clinked against each other. Both were made from slime crystals that had been strung together.
“Oh, thank you very much for this bracelet,” Emilie said. “I love it. I didn’t know you had a matching one.”
“Yes, I do,” I said, noting that she’d chosen to wear the gift even though I had explained to her that the crystals were made from processed slimes.