Chapter 25
Marie took the dessert plate to the parlor.
I watched her back through the crack in the door.
The girl whose hands used to tremble even when carrying a single plate was now taking the final plate before Countess Rosenhart.
Life was strange.
People grew faster than expected when you mixed together a reasonable amount of wages, fear, and dishwashing.
The dessert was small.
A piece of caramel with the faintest lingering bitterness, goat's-milk cream, thinly dried fruit, and a drop of honey.
It looked sweet.
But you'd know the moment you put it in your mouth.
It wasn't completely sweet.
The sweetness touched the tip of the tongue first, but the caramel's bitterness caught hold from behind and lingered.
The goat's-milk cream was smooth, but the dried aroma of the fruit remained slightly dry.
The honey only glimmered for the briefest moment at the end.
It was the taste of what remained after paying off a debt.
Freedom wasn't sweet all the time.
If anything, it was frightening.
From now on, you couldn't blame anyone else, and the excuse of debt disappeared.
It also meant there were fewer places to run.
I had put that on the plate.
Of course, the guest had to understand it.
And Countess Camilla Rosenhart was the sort of guest who could.
Marie set the plate down.
“The final plate. Goat's-milk cream and dried fruit, accompanied by caramel and honey. It contains the bitterness and sweetness that linger in the mouth.”
Countess Rosenhart looked down at the plate.
She was smiling.
She had been smiling for the most part from beginning to end, but this smile was a little different.
Until a moment ago, it had been the smile of someone measuring the other person's worth. Now it was closer to the smile of someone reading the answer that had been placed before her.
“A dessert that isn't very sweet.”
She said that before even tasting it.
I clicked my tongue softly inside the kitchen.
What a genuinely exhausting guest.
Countess Rosenhart scooped up the goat's-milk cream and caramel together with a small spoon and put them in her mouth.
She chewed slowly, swallowed, and then ate the dried fruit.
Finally, she touched the part covered in honey.
And then she said nothing for a while.
Elysia didn't say anything either.
The only sounds in the parlor were the crackle of the candle flame and the faintest clink of a plate.
Countess Rosenhart looked at the empty plate and said,
“Is this a warning?”
Elysia quietly asked in return,
“Is that how you felt?”
“It sounds as if you're saying that even a sweet offer can leave a bitter taste behind.”
“It's the taste we learned today.”
Her eyes turned toward Elysia.
“Miss Monbel, you've changed quite a lot.”
“Debt changes people.”
“Most people change for the worse.”
“I was lucky.”
Elysia said that and glanced at me.
“I had the help of a strange chef.”
I quietly looked away inside the kitchen.
It was true that I was strange, but was there really any need to say so in front of a creditor?
Countess Rosenhart chuckled softly.
“That strange chef is why I came all the way here today. So let me ask again. Rosenhart can invest in Maison Monbel. Money, ingredients, security, and the doors to high society in the capital. I can open all of them for you.”
She lightly tapped the table with one finger.
“In return, a stake. And priority regarding Kyle Prat.”
The air grew a little heavier.
Her words were gentle, but their contents were anything but.
Priority sounded like a good word, but ultimately, it was about who could reach out first.
For now, she was saying she wouldn't take me away, but she was also asking for the right to make the first demand when she needed to.
Elysia didn't answer immediately.
If she had been her old self, she might have wavered.
Back when debt had driven her to the brink, an offer like this would have looked like salvation.
Rosenhart's money and protection, a lifeline for Monbel, and a way to avoid gambling with her own life at the gambling den.
But Elysia had paid off the debt now.
She wasn't completely free, but at least she was no longer someone who had to bow her head.
“Countess, Rosenhart's investment is a generous offer.”
The countess didn't answer. She simply waited.
“But I won't give up a stake in Maison Monbel.”
The parlor fell silent.
Marie swallowed outside the door.
I was a little surprised, too.
I had expected her to refuse, but I hadn't expected her to reject the stake so immediately.
The countess's smile didn't disappear.
“May I ask why?”
“Maison Monbel is still small. The kitchen is cramped, we're short on people, and we can only serve one table a day. But that is precisely why it has value right now. If someone invested a large sum, established it in the capital, and began dividing up the equity, it could certainly grow faster.”
Elysia paused for a moment.
“But at that moment, this restaurant would no longer be Monbel's table, where her debts had been paid off. It would become a fashionable business invested in by Rosenhart.”
Countess Rosenhart's eyes narrowed slightly.
Elysia didn't back down.
“I don't want that.”
‘My lady, you've really grown.’
If this had been back when we were poor, I might have been pleased.
No, honestly, I would have wavered even a few days ago.
But not now.
Elysia knew that Maison Monbel was the table at which she had restored her family's name.
Money was necessary, but she couldn't sell the name along with it.
Countess Rosenhart said quietly,
“Then are you refusing priority as well?”
Elysia looked at me, but I didn't answer.
This wasn't something I should intervene in.
No, it was my problem, too, but it was also Maison Monbel's problem.
If I said no right away, it would become a personal feeling.
Elysia had to say it for it to become the restaurant's position.
Elysia looked at Camilla again.
“Kyle is Monbel's chef.”
Camilla smiled.
“I know that.”
“So we can't sell the right to hand him over to another house, nor the right to demand him first.”
“Miss Monbel, people sometimes don't know their own value. That chef can stand on a much bigger stage.”
“That may be true.”
Elysia spoke calmly.
“But that stage doesn't have to be Rosenhart's kitchen.”
For the first time, the countess fell completely silent.
I knew that silence wasn't a good sign.
The moment a smiling person stopped smiling was always dangerous.
Especially when a wealthy creditor stopped smiling in front of someone who had just paid off every last bit of debt.
But she didn't get angry. Instead, she very slowly regained her smile.
“All right.”
It was a short reply.
Elysia's eyes wavered.
“Really?”
“Yes. For now, I'll give up both the stake and priority.”
For now.
That word came through far too clearly.
“But I'll make another proposal.”
‘Of course.’
Countess Rosenhart lightly pushed the empty dessert plate with one finger.
“Rosenhart won't become Maison Monbel's exclusive investor. Instead, we'd like to become your official supplier.”
“Supplier?”
“Ingredients.”
This time, her eyes turned toward me.
“You use good ingredients well, but your supply chain is still weak. Haggling directly at the market is fine, but rarer ingredients don't come in that way. Southern spices, provisions stored in the ice of the northern snow mountains, seafood brought through the ports in my territory, fine liquor. Rosenhart can supply all of that.”
It was a dangerous offer.
And at the same time, it was far too tempting.
I immediately pictured the ingredients in my head.
Proper sea fish, better butter, more reliable cold storage, wine, spices, sugar, and fine vinegar.
Chefs were susceptible to temptations like these.
Sometimes ingredients were more dangerous than money.
The countess knew that.
“I'll charge market prices. The debt is over, after all. But I'll let Maison Monbel choose its desired quality first. In return...”
“In return?”
When Elysia asked, the countess smiled.
“Open a Rosenhart-exclusive course once a month.”
Marie mumbled very softly outside the door.
“Another exclusive course...”
I pretended not to hear her.
Countess Rosenhart continued,
“I may come myself, or I may send a guest. Of course, I'll pay the listed price. I don't want a discount. Charge me properly. That's how the value will be maintained.”
This time, Elysia didn't answer immediately either.
This was different.
She wasn't giving up a stake, nor granting priority over me.
A supply contract and one exclusive table a month were dangerous, but they were a relationship we could manage.
Rosenhart would have a foot in Maison Monbel, but it wouldn't control the kitchen.
I spoke quietly.
“I'd like to add one condition.”
“Go ahead.”
“The choice of ingredients must remain mine. No matter how good the ingredients Rosenhart sends are, I won't use them if they don't suit the course.”
“All right.”
“The same goes for the exclusive course. Whoever the guest is, the kitchen will decide the final composition.”
“That works, too.”
She accepted far too easily.
Which made it all the more frightening.
The countess smiled as though she had read my thoughts.
“Kyle Prat, I know this restaurant will only become more valuable if you're free to cook as you please. My goal isn't to tie you down and make you cheap.”
“Then what is it?”
She answered slowly.
“To watch from close by until you become as expensive as possible.”
The parlor fell silent again.
This woman was honest.
That was why she was dangerous.
Elysia stared at the countess for a while before speaking.
“Very well. We'll accept a supply agreement with House Rosenhart and one exclusive course per month. We'll agree to those terms.”
Countess Rosenhart smiled with satisfaction.
“A wise decision.”
“However, our side will review the contract as well.”
“Of course.”
Elysia smiled very faintly.
“I've learned to read ledgers a little now, too.”
The countess laughed as though she found that amusing.
“You've truly changed a great deal, Miss Monbel.”
The meal was over, and so was the debt.
But the relationship wasn't over.
Camilla Rosenhart had collected the final payment and, in return, opened another door for Maison Monbel.
Whether there was an opportunity or a trap behind that door, we couldn't know yet.
But at least one thing was certain.
Monbel was no longer a house dragged along by its debts. It had become a house that chose its dealings.
After Camilla left, Marie nearly sank to the kitchen floor.
“Is it over?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it really over?”
“The debt is.”
“There's something else after that, isn't there?”
“The business isn't over.”
Marie sighed.
Elysia remained in the parlor, staring at the empty dessert plate and the closed safe.
Only after a long while did she speak.
“Kyle, we really paid off every last bit of our debt.”
“Yes.”
“It's strange.”
“What is?”
“I'm more frightened now than I was on the day we were going to die.”
I was silent for a moment.
I understood that a little.
When you had debt, all you had to look at was the debt.
When death was the exit, all you had to look at was death.
But once you survived, you suddenly had more choices.
Sometimes people were more frightened by possibilities than by despair.
I untied my apron and said,
“A restaurant is always more frightening after it opens.”
“Really?”
“Yes. There are far more ways to fail.”
Elysia looked at me, then burst out laughing.
“You really can't comfort anyone.”
“But I cook well.”
“That you do.”
She placed a hand on top of the closed safe.
“Then what do we do now?”
I looked toward the kitchen.
As always, there was a pile of dishes waiting.
“Let's start by washing the plates.”
Marie looked at me in despair.
“Even on the day we paid off all our debts?”
“Debt and dishwashing are separate matters.”
There was no helping it.
As long as we ran a restaurant, we had to wash dishes.
As long as humanity continued running restaurants, dishwashing would remain by our side forever.