Chapter 10
<Monbel's Book of Condolences>
Because Elysia liked the name, we actually wrote it on the first page of the reservation ledger.
To be honest, I regretted it a little.
No matter how important the concept was, calling a restaurant's reservation book a book of condolences was going too far.
If I'd pulled something like this in Cheongdam-dong in my previous life, a reporter would have arrived before any customers.
But the nobles of this world were different.
They loved words like death, downfall, final pride, and bloodstained roses far too much.
I thought I understood a little better why my ex-girlfriend had written a world like this.
Even if she lived on nothing but ramen and Coke Zero, she'd apparently cultivated a very rich sensibility.
The problem was that the mourners arrived far too quickly.
The young lady was still perfectly alive right here.
A little after lunch, two carriages stopped almost simultaneously by the main gate.
When Uncle Bernard returned after greeting the guests, his face held a remarkably dignified mixture of fatigue and bewilderment.
“Kyle.”
“Yes.”
“The butler of House Reinfeld and the butler of House Kalden have arrived at the same time.”
“The ducal household?”
“Yes.”
I set down the fruit I was holding.
I had figured Count Klever had spread the rumor, but I hadn't expected the ducal household to move so quickly.
The appetites and vanity of the nobles had faster legs than I'd expected.
Elysia had been flipping through the Book of Condolences when she looked up.
“Duke Kalden is a troublesome man.”
“In what way?”
“He was probably planning to take me away if our house fell. As his mistress, most likely.”
I paused for a moment.
“You say that so casually?”
“We just have to make sure it doesn't fall now.”
She wasn't wrong, but that was the first time I learned that even the truth could feel awful when it was this accurate.
The two butlers were seated across from each other in the parlor.
One was the butler of House Reinfeld, a neat man with a thin build and silver-rimmed glasses.
The other was the butler of House Kalden. He was older and had a sturdier build.
Both men were smiling, but their smiles didn't feel like smiles exchanged between guests. It was more like they were carrying swords wrapped in cloth.
“Miss Monbel.”
The Reinfeld butler bowed first.
“Our lord and lady have taken a deep interest in Monbel's banquet. We would like to request the earliest available table.”
The Kalden butler smiled at once.
“What a coincidence. His Grace the Duke has sent the same request. Naturally, he expects treatment befitting the ducal household.”
Elysia glanced at me, and I gave her a small nod.
From here on, this was my job.
“Thank you both for coming. However, we only accept one table per day.”
The two butlers' eyebrows moved almost simultaneously.
The Reinfeld butler asked,
“Did you say one table per day?”
“Yes.”
“Even with guests likely to come flooding in?”
“That's why we only accept one table.”
The Kalden butler gave a low laugh.
“The chef has some nerve.”
“A meal of refinement requires time and concentration. If we accept several tables on the same evening, we can't create a different story for each guest. What we sell isn't a simple meal, but a one-time banquet tailored to the house and its guest.”
Even as I said it, I found it a little funny.
Of course, there was some bullshit mixed in.
The real reason we only accepted one table a day was that our kitchen would explode if it had to handle more than one.
Marie had only barely memorized the dish explanations yesterday, and the servants still hadn't learned to keep their wrists steady when carrying soup bowls.
If we accepted two tables, it wouldn't be a question of dignity. The plates would be smashed across the floor.
But I couldn't say that to the guests.
We had to make it look as though we weren't refusing because we couldn't handle several tables, but because we didn't dare accept them.
If it's expensive, incompetence becomes philosophy.
The Reinfeld butler took a small leather pouch from inside his coat.
“I heard Count Klever paid 150 gold. We have prepared the same amount. That makes 300 gold between the two of us.”
The Kalden butler smiled at once.
“We can't put His Grace's meal on the same footing as a count's. 180 gold.”
The air in the parlor changed.
I barely managed to keep my expression under control.
Elysia managed her expression even better than I did.
She sat there with the face of a pale, fallen noble young lady, but the fingertips clutching her dress beneath the table were trembling slightly.
She was excited.
The Reinfeld butler pushed up his glasses.
“The marquis's household does not take Monbel's dignity lightly, either. 200 gold.”
The smile on the Kalden butler's face stiffened slightly.
“220 gold.”
“250 gold.”
“270 gold.”
“300 gold.”
It happened in an instant.
The power struggle between wealthy people was terrifying.
From my perspective as someone who would argue with a merchant for ten minutes over the price of a sack of onions, the amount these people had raised in just a few words felt utterly unreal.
Until yesterday, this house had been trembling as it clung to the last money it had to gamble with. Now, two butlers from other households were naming 300 gold as the price of a meal.
The Reinfeld butler said quietly,
“The marchioness understands the significance of being the first to experience something in high society.”
The Kalden butler shot back,
“His Grace prefers experiencing the best to experiencing something first.”
Elysia drew in a very small breath.
I cut in.
“Gentlemen.”
Both butlers turned their eyes toward me.
“I will decide who gets today's table now. However, I won't decide based on price alone. For the sake of fairness, we'll initially charge the same price Count Klever paid.”
The Kalden butler narrowed his eyes.
“Then what will you use to decide?”
“What kind of story we can prepare. Tell us what sort of meal the guests want and what kind of emotion they wish to buy. We'll prepare a banquet to match.”
The light in the Reinfeld butler's eyes changed.
He seemed to like what I'd just said.
Nobles wanted to believe that even when they spent money, they were spending it in a dignified manner.
When I briefly halted the price competition and demanded a story instead, the bidding suddenly began to look like an elegant commission.
It was so easy.
And so difficult.
The Kalden butler thought for a moment before speaking.
“His Grace is curious what Monbel's downfall actually tastes like.”
My stomach twisted a little.
As expected of a man who had been planning to take Elysia, his tastes were vile, too.
But even a vile taste was a customer's preference once they paid for it. You just had to rein it in at the table.
The Reinfeld butler spoke gently.
“The marchioness is interested in resurrection rather than downfall. She wishes to see how a name everyone believes has ended can produce fragrance once more. The marquis feels the same.”
I decided to hand the authority to decide over to Elysia.
After thinking for a moment, Elysia said to the Reinfeld butler,
“We will offer the first table to the marquis and marchioness.”
The Kalden butler's face hardened.
“Do you mean to reject the ducal household's offer?”
Elysia smiled demurely.
“Not reject it. We are deciding the order. We have to prepare a meal worthy of His Grace separately. If he is curious about Monbel's downfall, we couldn't possibly serve it casually, could we?”
The Kalden butler was silent for a moment.
I admired her inwardly.
‘My lady, you've improved a lot.’
The advice to smile like someone about to wring money out of a rich person had taken effect in a single day.
Elysia wasn't rejecting the ducal household. She was putting it off as an even more expensive engagement.
The Kalden butler eventually nodded.
“Very well. I will convey that to His Grace. We can discuss the price again then.”
“I look forward to it.”
The Reinfeld butler carefully placed the pouch containing 300 gold on the table.
The Kalden butler didn't simply leave, either.
He left 100 gold as a reservation deposit.
Every time a gold coin landed on the table, Elysia's eyes gleamed a little more.
I wanted to do the same, but a chef couldn't let the sight of money make him lose his head in front of a guest.
Instead, a list of ingredients began racing through my mind.
We could use even better butter.
We could buy larger game birds and get a few more proper plates made.
And now, we truly needed an expensive ace up our sleeve.
An ingredient that would make the nobles' eyes widen just by hearing about it. Something that would feel valuable even when used sparingly and instantly raise the dignity of an entire plate.
I thought of a shop in the market.
‘Freshwater sturgeon roe.’
This world had something similar to caviar, too.
The name was different, but its appearance and use were almost identical.
It was something I'd quietly walked away from yesterday after hearing the price.
Now I could buy it.
After the two butlers left, Elysia was silent for a while as she stared at the pouches of money on the table.
“Kyle.”
“Yes.”
“Is all of this meal money?”
“It's meal money from meals we haven't even eaten yet.”
“Nobles really are insane.”
“You're a noble, too.”
“I'm poor, so I'm a little less insane.”
“I don't think that's true.”
Elysia was about to argue, but perhaps she remembered what she'd said yesterday and closed her mouth.
I picked up one of the pouches.
“I'm going to the market.”
“Again?”
“More money came in.”
“What are you going to buy?”
I smiled.
“Something more expensive.”
That afternoon, I bought the sturgeon roe I'd noticed at the market.
The merchant hadn't expected me to come back, so his eyes went round, and he looked delighted when he named the price.
I cursed inwardly and haggled over the price, but in the end, I paid a fairly large sum.
Black eggs glittered inside a small glass jar.
Marie frowned when she saw it.
“What's this?”
“Caviar.”
“They're eggs.”
“Yeah.”
“Fish eggs?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you buy it for so much?”
“Nobles pay a lot even for tiny eggs.”
Marie looked as though she couldn't understand it at all.
I lifted the jar and held it up to the light.
The black eggs trembled slightly.
Now I had one more piece of ostentation I could put on a plate.
I set down the jar and said,
“Marie.”
“Yeah?”
“From now on, this isn't fish eggs.”
“Then what is it?”
“The black jewel announcing Monbel's resurrection.”
Marie stared at me for a long moment before muttering softly,
“So you really did intend to make a living by scamming people.”
“Ahem. Presentation.”
“Use good ingredients, then sell them for more by charging for the presentation?”
“Exactly.”
At last, Marie had begun to learn what fine dining was.