Chapter 24
The first plate was very small.
I spread goat's-milk cream over a thinly toasted piece of bread and placed only three black sturgeon eggs on top.
Beside it was a single, very small pickled herb stem.
Saltiness, soft fat, and a green bitterness lingering at the end.
I didn't label it as the beginning of a debt. If you were too obvious, it became cheap.
But I had to make the person eating it realize.
That something that looked small at first could linger in the mouth for a long time.
Marie went out to the parlor.
“Maison Monbel's first plate. It captures the way a saltiness that began small can linger.”
Countess Rosenhart looked down at the plate.
She didn't eat it right away. Instead, she examined the plate first.
The thickness of the bread, the amount of cream, the number of eggs, even the position of the herb.
She was calculating before she even tasted it.
How much expensive ingredient had been used, what had been saved, and whether the parts we'd saved had been covered with a story.
She was an annoyingly good guest.
A good guest was a frightening guest.
Countess Rosenhart took her first bite.
There was almost no reaction, but the corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly.
“Interesting.”
That was her first word.
Elysia said calmly from across the table,
“Does it suit your taste?”
“It does. But I can feel the intention before the flavor.”
I frowned behind the kitchen door.
‘Already?’
She'd read the first plate.
This woman was genuinely dangerous.
Countess Rosenhart lightly dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“It was small at first, but it lingers. Is this about debt?”
Elysia's expression stiffened ever so slightly.
But she didn't back down.
“If that's how you felt, then today's meal has gotten off to a proper start.”
Countess Rosenhart smiled.
“Miss Monbel, you've become much more confident than before.”
“I found a way to make a living.”
“A way to make a living.”
Countess Rosenhart's gaze turned toward the kitchen for a moment.
“You've found a good path.”
I felt that gaze brush past the back of my neck.
Duke Kalden's gaze had been blatant.
I want to buy it, take it, own it. It had all been written plainly across his face.
But Countess Rosenhart was different.
She was weighing the price first.
It felt as though she hadn't yet decided whether to take it, invest in it, tie it down, or help it grow.
I prepared the second plate.
It was a warm vegetable appetizer.
I slowly cooked young carrots and root vegetables I'd obtained at dawn in butter, then infused them with the fragrance of herbs.
There were only a few small pieces of vegetable on the plate, but the colors were bright.
A gentle warmth following the saltiness of the first plate.
I had made this plate while thinking of the moment Maison Monbel first began earning money.
Marie served the plate.
“Root vegetables slowly cooked in butter. It captures the moment when something bound beneath the earth first begins to grow warm.”
Countess Rosenhart smiled again.
“Something that was bound.”
She put a vegetable in her mouth.
This time, she closed her eyes for the briefest moment.
The person who had been eating as though she were calculating had followed the flavor for a moment.
It was a good sign.
I let out a small breath inwardly.
“This is gentle. If the first plate was the beginning of debt, is this the beginning of income?”
Elysia smiled faintly.
“You read a meal remarkably well, Countess.”
“It's similar to reading money.”
“Food?”
“Flow.”
Countess Rosenhart set down her fork.
“Money, flavor, and people all flow in the end. You can usually understand them by seeing where they begin, where they gather, where they become blocked, and where they rot.”
After hearing that, I had no choice but to admit it.
This woman was a frightening guest.
And a very good business partner.
The third course was soup.
I added just a little goat's milk to clear stock, then layered on the sweetness of roasted onions and root vegetables.
Not too heavy, but without making it seem empty.
A flavor connecting the village and the manor once again.
I tried to capture the present moment: Count Klever's lodging business had begun, villagers had joined the kitchen as general laborers, and money was beginning to circulate again under the name of Monbel.
Saying all that in front of a guest would be vulgar.
So I put it on the plate.
Uncle Bernard served the soup himself.
“Soup made with clear stock, goat's milk, and roasted root vegetables. It captures the warmth of a road once severed being joined again.”
Countess Rosenhart took a spoonful of soup.
And this time, she remained silent for a little while.
Elysia didn't say anything either.
The only sound in the parlor was the faint clink of a spoon against a bowl.
Countess Rosenhart slowly emptied the soup.
She wasn't eating too quickly or deliberately slowly.
She simply looked like someone eating at the pace of the flavor.
After finishing the soup, she said,
“There seem to be more people in Monbel Village.”
Elysia nodded.
“Because more people have been coming to Maison Monbel.”
“I've also heard that Count Klever is building lodging.”
“Yes.”
“And you've agreed to deduct part of those profits from Monbel's debt.”
She knew, as expected.
Elysia didn't hide it.
“That's right.”
Countess Rosenhart smiled as though she found it amusing.
“He likes doing business, too. I just didn't expect him to move so quickly.”
I thought inwardly from inside the kitchen,
‘Countess, I'm watching everything here, too.’
Even creditors watched one another's movements.
Money had suddenly begun circulating through a house called Monbel that had been on the verge of ruin. There was no way they wouldn't care who was taking what from where.
The main course was veal sirloin.
I cooked it without using too much heat and laid down only a very thin layer of sauce.
Rather than the sweet and greasy style of the duke's course, this time it was about balance.
Tender but not mushy, clean but not light.
A flavor that stood face-to-face rather than bowing its head.
Thomas quietly said as he looked at the plate,
“Today's one is completely different from the one for the duke.”
“The guest is different.”
“What kind of flavor does this guest like?”
“We need to serve a flavor she has no choice but to acknowledge, rather than one she likes.”
Thomas looked as though he didn't understand, but he nodded.
He could understand later.
For now, he just needed to wash the plates properly.
The main course went out.
Countess Rosenhart cut the meat, put it in her mouth, chewed, and then slowly swallowed.
Then she called for me.
“Kyle Prat.”
I wiped my hands and went out to the parlor.
“Yes, Countess.”
“This main course is good.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn't overcooked, and it didn't show off too much. Like the attitude of someone paying off a debt.”
I lowered my head.
“I'm glad that's how you felt.”
“You must have made me feel that way.”
Countess Rosenhart's eyes turned toward me.
“You.”
I didn't answer and only dipped my head slightly.
There was no need to act unnecessarily humble, nor any need to boast.
In front of this woman, every unnecessary word became a price tag.
So I had to say only what was necessary.
Countess Rosenhart looked at Elysia again.
“Miss Monbel.”
“Yes.”
“Will you be able to settle the remaining debt today?”
Elysia had the small safe we'd prepared brought in.
Uncle Bernard carefully opened it.
Inside, gold coins and deeds had been neatly arranged.
Some of the money Maison Monbel had earned, the amount deducted through the lodging business, and the final sum that remained.
It was an amount that couldn't even be compared to the last of the money we'd once considered taking to a gambling den.
Elysia placed it in front of Camilla.
“Here it is. The full amount of Monbel's remaining debt to House Rosenhart.”
The moment she finished speaking, the parlor fell silent.
I looked at Elysia's profile.
She wasn't trembling.
She was a little pale, but she wasn't bowing her head.
She sat there not as a debtor, but as someone paying off a debt.
Countess Rosenhart checked the amount.
Slowly, and with absolute precision.
Then she smiled.
“That's right.”
The moment those words fell, the tension left Uncle Bernard's shoulders.
Marie covered her mouth outside the door, while Thomas looked as though he didn't fully understand what was happening but could tell something major had ended.
Monbel's largest debt was over.
At least on paper.
Countess Rosenhart didn't close the safe.
Instead, she lightly pushed one of the gold coins with her finger.
“It's a shame, though.”
Elysia's eyes stiffened slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“If I'd known Monbel would pay off its debt so quickly, I should have kept you tied down in a different way.”
She said it with a smile.
But the air in the parlor turned cold again.
I cursed inwardly.
‘Here it comes.’
Countess Rosenhart continued speaking gently.
“Once a debt is over, the creditor has to withdraw. That's the principle. But an investor can stay.”
Elysia didn't answer.
Countess Rosenhart's gaze turned toward me.
“Maison Monbel can grow much larger. Rather than serving only one table a day in a corner of this manor, you could open a branch in the capital or connect with salons for nobles. Rosenhart can help with ingredient supplies, personnel, security, and promotion among high society.”
Her words were smooth, and her terms were attractive.
That was precisely what made them more dangerous.
“You want something in return.”
Elysia spoke first.
Countess Rosenhart smiled.
“I want a stake.”
‘As expected.’
I kept my mouth shut.
“A portion of Maison Monbel's equity. And priority regarding an exclusive contract with Kyle Prat.”
Elysia's expression hardened, and Marie sucked in a breath outside the door.
Countess Rosenhart continued as though it were nothing unusual.
“I'm not saying I'll take it away from you. It's closer to offering protection. Maison Monbel has become famous far too quickly. Count Klever, Count Reinfeldt, Duke Kalden, countless noble guests, and even that wealthy commoner guest whose identity no one can determine.”
A chill ran down my spine at her last words.
‘Does she know?’
This woman was seriously troublesome.
“Restaurants like this will soon be coveted by even bigger players. Not everyone is as blatant as Duke Kalden. There are people who come knocking with a smile, present a contract, and before you know it, take both the chef and the name.”
Countess Rosenhart looked at Elysia as she said,
“I'm reaching out before that happens.”
Elysia said nothing for a while.
The scent of the main course's sauce still lingered in the parlor.
The debt had been paid, but a larger proposal had been placed where that debt had disappeared.
I didn't like this situation.
And yet, I knew it was an offer too good to reject outright.
I liked that even less.
Elysia slowly asked,
“Countess.”
“Yes.”
“There is still dessert.”
Countess Rosenhart's eyes narrowed slightly.
“Are you putting off your answer?”
Elysia smiled very quietly.
“No.”
She glanced at me once and said,
“We're measuring its value.”
I felt a brief surge of admiration inwardly.
Countess Rosenhart looked at Elysia for a moment, then finally burst out laughing.
“All right. Let's see the dessert, too.”
I returned to the kitchen.
Marie immediately whispered,
“What do we do?”
“We serve dessert.”
“Is that the problem right now?”
“It's the most important problem right now.”
I took out the final plate I'd prepared.
Caramel with the faintest lingering bitterness, goat's-milk cream, thinly dried fruit, and a drop of honey.
A dessert that was sweet, but not completely sweet.
A settlement that was over but not quite over.
I murmured as I looked at the plate,
“All right.”
Today's final plate had to be the taste left behind after paying off a debt.
Freedom, and a razor-thin bitterness that made you wonder whether to sell that freedom again.
I wiped the edge of the plate.
“Marie, let's go.”
Monbel's largest debt was over.
But a more expensive deal was only just beginning.
And perhaps this was the best answer we could give in return.