Chapter 46
One day, an official notice arrived stating that the Emperor would soon be coming to dinner.
At first, I thought I had read it wrong.
I read the notice once, twice, and on the third time, I handed it to Uncle Bernard.
“Uncle.”
“Yes.”
“Is this real?”
Uncle Bernard quietly read the notice.
His expression was as calm as ever.
But I could see the very tip of his eyebrow move ever so slightly.
“It’s real.”
“Fuck, why is she coming again!”
“Kyle.”
“Yes, I’ll watch my language.”
The kitchen fell silent.
Marie froze with a glass of water in her hand.
“Who’s coming?”
“Her Imperial Majesty, the Emperor.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“To eat?”
“Yes.”
Marie slowly set down her glass.
“Kyle, let’s run away.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere, for now.”
It was a good suggestion, but impossible to carry out.
The Emperor visiting for dinner ‘officially’ meant that, if things went well, Maison Monbel would receive the stamp of approval as the finest restaurant in the empire.
If things went badly, well, the Emperor probably wouldn’t chop off our heads just because we made the food a little poorly, but we would lose every bit of the reputation we had built in noble society and become a restaurant doomed to fail.
Instead of nobles carrying gold coins, our visitors would become that clown who had been turned away at the door for a while.
Elysia read the official notice and said nothing for a while.
“My lady?”
“Yes.”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“You look all right.”
“Nobles look fine when they aren’t.”
“Sounds like a difficult profession.”
“Being a chef doesn’t look easy either.”
That was true.
Preparations for the Emperor’s visit began immediately.
Cleaning was doubled, no, tripled.
The silverware was polished again, and the candlesticks were scrubbed until they shone.
We checked the wine cellar again, and sea fish was naturally excluded from the menu.
Breaking down a live fish in front of the Emperor would be far too dangerous.
Of course, we could do it if the Emperor wanted, but it wasn’t something to bring up first.
“What do you think of this concept?”
Elysia brought over an idea.
<A Quiet Meal Served on the Night of the Empire>
I looked at the sentence and nodded.
“It’s good. If we try to show the Emperor something spectacular, we’ll fail.”
The Emperor must have already eaten the most expensive and extravagant things in the world.
Trying to compete with such a person using gold leaf and spices would be tacky.
And, well, she had visited once before.
“By an absolutely miraculous stroke of luck, that wealthy commoner guest named Adel who came last time has exactly the same tastes as Her Majesty.”
“Right. What a relief.”
Marie joined in without reading the room.
“No, if she’s Her Imperial Majesty the Emperor, why is everyone—”
“Ahem! We are meeting Her Majesty officially for the first time! We have never met her!”
Adel was a commoner.
Everyone knew that wasn’t true, but since Adel had committed to that persona, we had to play along for now.
So this time, too, we had to keep things quiet.
It was an official visit, but the meal had to be free of fuss.
It would be less about the office of Emperor and more about letting the person trapped inside it breathe for a moment.
Of course, we couldn’t say anything like that out loud.
It could sound like treason.
About an hour before the Emperor was due to arrive, a middle-aged man stepped out of a small carriage.
Two more men wearing the same black formal attire followed behind him.
After entering the mansion, he gave a slight nod.
“I am an Imperial food taster. I wish to meet the head chef.”
“I’m Kyle Pratt, the head chef.”
“A pleasure. Before today’s meal, I shall taste-test and inspect the dishes to be served to Her Majesty.”
“Of course. However, it would be best if you tasted them before they were plated.”
“Naturally. Report today’s menu beforehand.”
“Her Majesty ordered something simple, so I have prepared simple bite-sized dishes, soup, fish, roast fowl, dessert, and tea.”
“Understood. I shall now order the agents to inspect the ingredients, kitchen, and cellar in advance.”
“Understood.”
The two agents who had followed the food taster went over every inch of the kitchen.
After inspecting the kitchen for quite a while, the two men nodded.
“Nothing unusual.”
“Good. Have the agents stationed here remain at their posts as well.”
“Yes!”
An answer even came from the part of the corridor where I had clearly confirmed that no one was standing.
Goosebumps rose all over my body.
It really sank in just how low-key her last visit had been.
By evening, the imperial carriage arrived.
Its design was not much different from the one I had seen last time, but it had a few more decorations.
‘Fuck, she really just took off the decorations and came last time.’
The atmosphere in front of the mansion changed.
Some of the imperial guards looked familiar from last time and entered first, while the imperial attendants checked the route.
Uncle Bernard coordinated with them, while Elysia observed the proper formalities at the entrance.
I stood at the kitchen entrance, washing my hands over and over.
My hands were cold.
Marie spoke quietly beside me.
“Kyle.”
“What?”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
“You do get nervous.”
“If you aren’t nervous before the Emperor, that isn’t courage. It means you don’t have a brain.”
“True.”
The door opened, and the Emperor entered.
She had pale blond hair, almost silver, and an impassive face; every movement she made was quiet yet dignified.
Everyone nearby quieted their breathing as she walked over.
And the moment I saw that face, I thought to myself,
‘Hello, Adel.’
I bowed my head.
“It is an honor to see you, Your Majesty.”
The Emperor looked down at me, and a brief silence passed.
Then she said impassively,
“Are you Kyle Pratt?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“My relative praised your cooking.”
The air in the drawing room shifted slightly.
Elysia’s expression was perfect, and so was Uncle Bernard’s composure.
Marie practically stopped breathing behind us.
I answered with my head bowed.
“It is an honor.”
The Emperor continued,
“The person who came last time is a relative of mine who goes by, um, the name Adel.”
“I see.”
“I hear Adel resembles me.”
“There are many people in the world who resemble one another.”
The Emperor’s expression remained impassive.
Not the slightest expression changed.
“Indeed. The Imperial Family has many relatives.”
I thought to myself,
‘Is that a joke? Probably.’
The Emperor looked cold, and her voice was low.
Yet the things she said were subtly playful.
She wasn’t the sort to joke with a smile; she tossed out jokes with an impassive face, as if testing people.
Responding was dangerous, but not responding was even more dangerous.
She was a difficult guest.
The Emperor took her seat, and the meal began.
‘All right, today’s amuse-bouche is this.’
I baked cornbread to a size just a little larger than a 500-won coin, folded it into shape, heated it again to set it, then filled it with diced tomatoes, even more finely diced onions, and avocado, topped it with a little caviar, and drizzled on just a touch of tangy sauce.
Strictly speaking, it was something like a tiny taco.
It had everything: a sweet-and-sour flavor to whet the appetite, a very slight spiciness, and a touch of saltiness.
The Emperor ate it and raised one eyebrow ever so slightly.
‘Nailed it!’
The next course was meant not to further stimulate the newly awakened appetite, but to prepare it to accept the dishes to come.
For that, I had prepared a very small bowl of warm soup.
Nearly transparent broth, very thinly sliced root vegetables, and a faint aroma.
The Emperor took a spoonful and paused briefly.
There was no change in her expression.
But she picked up her spoon again.
Next, the appetizer before the main course was gently cooked fish.
The fish had been cooked over very low heat until the flesh was barely coming apart, and it was served with a mildly acidic sauce and a very light drizzle of herb oil.
The Emperor ate that quietly as well.
“It’s similar to what Adel described.”
For a moment, I nearly dropped the knife in the kitchen.
Of course, I didn’t actually drop it.
Elysia calmly asked,
“May I ask what that relative told Your Majesty?”
The Emperor set down her fork and said,
“That relative said it was quiet. They liked the atmosphere.”
“I’m glad they enjoyed a quiet meal.”
“That relative dislikes noise. Much like me.”
The Emperor lifted the corner of her mouth ever so slightly.
“Sometimes I’m surprised when I see Adel. Not only our tastes, but our appearances, are remarkably alike.”
Marie swallowed strangely behind us.
Elysia bowed her head.
“I shall take it as one of the Imperial Family’s mysteries.”
“Hmm, I’m glad you understand it that way.”
The meal continued.
The main course was young fowl.
The skin was crisp, and the meat was tender.
I had turned the wine meant for pairing into a sauce, shedding tears of blood as I did so.
The sauce was not strong, but its slight sweet-and-sour flavor both cut through and emphasized the rich, fatty flavor of the plump bird in a single bite.
You mustn’t try to overpower the Emperor.
But that much was necessary to keep the richness from tasting greasy or unpleasant while still making the dish delicious.
The accompaniments were grilled onions and small mushrooms.
The Emperor said nothing, but scraped up every bit of the sauce with her spoon.
From a head chef’s perspective, it was as delightful as watching someone lick sauce off a plate.
The final dessert was peach.
I thinly sliced peaches from the Monbel garden, chilled them, and served them with a very faint alcoholic note and soft cream.
I kept it from being too sweet, allowing the aroma to come first.
The Emperor ate the peach, then called for me briefly.
“Kyle Pratt, where is this from?”
“I picked it in the Monbel garden.”
“Fruit from the garden?”
“Yes.”
“Tasty enough for a chef to steal a bite.”
Elysia and I genuinely froze this time.
Was this a coincidence, or did she know what she was saying?
I answered as calmly as possible.
“I believe it is a peach good enough to warrant that.”
“I know. From now on, be sure to share them with Lady Monbel.”
“……”
The Emperor lifted the corner of her mouth slightly.
‘…How does she know everything?’
I felt a chill run all the way down my spine.
The meal ended, and after drinking the black tea I had served, the Emperor set down her napkin and rose from her seat.
The drawing room was quiet.
The attendants were watching the Emperor’s expression, while Elysia maintained perfect decorum.
Uncle Bernard’s composure was flawless.
I was standing at the entrance to the drawing room when the Emperor gestured for me to come back inside.
“Kyle Pratt.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“My relative praised your cooking as quite exceptional.”
“That is more praise than I deserve.”
“Having seen it today, I cannot say that was wrong.”
“It is an honor.”
The Emperor was silent for a moment, then said expressionlessly,
“Could you work at the Imperial Palace?”
The air in the drawing room froze solid.