Chapter 72
It was a day off.
This time, I really meant to rest.
I'd said it was a day off many times before, but every time, I ended up going down to the kitchen.
I made staff meals, checked the consistency of a new sauce, inspected the broth in a single bowl, or watched challengers learn the limits of human endurance from Manly Man Noodles.
That wasn't resting.
I was just working for free.
So today, I lay in bed.
Sunlight came in just right, and the room was quiet.
At first, lying there with nothing in my hands felt awkward.
For a chef, having empty hands was more unsettling than you'd think.
I only felt at ease when my hands were cutting, stirring, or wiping something.
But today, I stuck it out.
I stared at the ceiling and muttered.
“Let's rest.”
I ordered myself to do it.
It didn't help much.
Work kept turning over in my head.
Things I shouldn't think about on a day off kept coming to mind, one after another.
I buried my face in the pillow.
“Fuck, even resting takes practice.”
Then someone knocked.
“Kyle, are you asleep?”
It was Marie's voice.
I turned my head.
“No.”
“Then can I come in?”
Before I could answer, the door opened.
Marie was wearing an apron as usual, but today she looked more like she was here to have fun than to work.
Seeing me lying in bed, she narrowed her eyes.
“You really are lying down.”
“It's my day off.”
“I think this is the first time I've seen you lying in bed, Kyle.”
“It's strange for me too.”
Marie looked around the room, pulled over a chair, and sat beside the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Resting.”
“I heard that already. What do you think about while resting?”
“Work.”
Marie sighed.
“That's not resting.”
“I want to rest too, but I can't.”
“You're seriously sick. Maison Monbel Head Chef Syndrome. You're the kind of person who'd try to develop a new method for resting the moment someone told you to rest.”
She wasn't wrong.
Marie looked down at me from beside the bed, then suddenly pressed firmly against my shoulder with one finger.
I flinched immediately.
“Ah.”
Marie's expression changed.
“What's with your shoulder? Why is it so stiff?”
“Occupational hazard. It's always been a little stiff.”
“It's more than a little stiff. If this were meat, it'd be so tough it'd need to be boiled for a long time before it was edible.”
“Don't treat me like meat.”
“You think of people as ingredients all the time, so I picked it up from you.”
I had nothing to say.
Marie rose from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed beside me.
I tried to sit up a little, but she pressed my shoulder down.
“Stay still. You've been working hard, so I'll massage your shoulders.”
“It's fine. I'm okay.”
“You're not okay. Your shoulders are protesting. And my hands are strong. You know how many trays I carry at once?”
“Even so…”
Just as I was about to refuse, Marie's hand pressed just below my nape.
It was exactly the stiff spot.
I lost my words.
“Aah…”
Marie smiled.
“Feels good, doesn't it?”
I closed my eyes.
My body felt like it was melting.
Only then did I realize how much my shoulders had been enduring.
Standing before the fire, carrying pots, chopping, checking ledgers, dealing with customers, clutching my throat in front of the Emperor, and managing the lines of men waiting for Manly Man Noodles had left my body pretty worn out.
Marie's hands were more skilled than I'd expected.
She knew where to apply pressure and where to ease off.
At first, I thought she'd started it as a joke, but her fingertips were quite serious.
As she pressed my shoulders, loosened the back of my neck, and slowly worked around my shoulder blades, a long breath escaped me before I realized it.
“Just a little longer.”
“What?”
“A little more.”
Marie gave a small laugh.
“Didn't you just say you were fine?”
“People can be wrong.”
“Even the chef can be wrong?”
“It's my day off, so let it slide.”
“If Baronet Kyle asks, I have to oblige.”
I opened my eyes.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“But it's fun. Baronet Kyle Prat. The man who sold broth, sold spicy noodles, and received a title while preparing a meal for the Emperor.”
“It sounds even stranger when you put it that way.”
“It is strange.”
Marie laughed, but didn't stop her hands.
In the end, I gave up and lay face down again.
The room was quiet. A little wind blew outside, and I could faintly hear someone walking somewhere in the estate.
Normally, even that sound would have felt like work.
I would have wondered who was going where, whether there was a problem in the kitchen, or whether a customer had arrived.
But not now.
Right now, only the sensation of Marie's hands pressing my shoulders was vivid.
After a little while, she said,
“Apparently, I've gotten a little famous lately.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“The rumor about you being the server at Maison Monbel?”
Marie's hands stopped briefly.
“You heard that too?”
“I heard customers talking. A black-haired, quick-witted server who explains things well.”
“Why didn't you mention that I'm pretty?”
“Was that part of the rumor?”
Marie pressed a little harder.
“Ow!”
“That's punishment for an oblivious chef.”
“Have mercy…”
“Hmph.”
She adjusted the pressure again.
“At first, those rumors felt strange. I'm just Marie. I don't have a surname, I'm not from some important family, and I'm not someone who wears pretty dresses like a young lady and goes to social gatherings. I was just a maid at Monbel, and after you somehow created that strange restaurant, I became the person who carried dishes out to customers.”
I didn't answer.
Marie's voice was a little lower than usual.
She'd been joking around, but there were other words beneath it.
“But these days, customers recognize me. They call me Marie from Maison Monbel, and when I went to One Bowl, the employees there greeted me. One noblewoman even went out of her way to compliment me, saying she liked the way I explained things. It felt strange. I'm just Marie, but suddenly it feels like my name has gotten a little longer.”
“That's a good thing.”
“It is. But it's frightening too.”
Marie slowly pressed my shoulders.
“My lady's surname is Monbel. She's going to become a countess. You have a surname too, even though you're a commoner, and you'll soon be a baronet. But I'm just Marie. A commoner without a surname. It never mattered much to me before. I never thought it would be nice to have a surname. People with surnames seemed impressive, but I thought they lived in a different world from me.”
She stopped speaking for a moment.
I tried to turn over.
Marie pressed my shoulder down with her hand.
“Just listen.”
I stayed still again.
Marie smiled a little.
“But now I think I might need one.”
“What does that…”
When I started to speak, Marie cut me off and continued in a very quiet voice.
“I wish I could use your surname.”
The room seemed to stop.
Marie was smiling.
Her laugh was light, but her words weren't.
“Marie Prat? Now that I say it aloud, it sounds a little strange.”
I couldn't say anything.
Normally, I would have said something—anything.
A joke, an evasion, or a warning not to joke about something like that.
But this time, my mouth wouldn't move properly.
Marie's hands stopped too, if only briefly.
She seemed to wait for my reaction, then slowly resumed massaging my shoulders.
“I'm not asking you to answer right away. You're dense when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“I'm not that dense…”
“You are.”
She said it decisively.
“You spot problems with the restaurant at lightning speed, but you're always slow to realize when someone likes you. You don't even properly notice the way my lady looks at you, you don't understand why I sometimes get annoyed, and you pretend not to know why I walk past with a huff whenever you're having so much fun researching with Estelle.”
I started to argue, then shut my mouth.
That hit a little too close to home.
Very much.
Marie smiled.
“So think about it slowly. I'm not planning to grab you and demand that we get married right now, either. I know you have a lot on your mind.”
She pressed my shoulder firmly one last time, then took her hand away.
My body felt much lighter.
But my thoughts were even more tangled.
Marie stood up.
“Rest well. Really rest. Don't think about work; just think a little about what I said. No—if you think about it too much, you'll turn it into work again, so only a little.”
I tried to sit up.
“Marie, wait a moment.”
Marie was walking toward the door, but turned around.
Her face was bright as usual.
But it was a slightly more grown-up kind of brightness.
“I'm not asking for an answer today. I didn't say it to hear your answer; I said it so you'd know where I stand with you.”
“Marie.”
“I'm leaving. Rest, Baronet.”
She waved lightly and left the room.
The door closed.
I sat on the bed, unable to move for a long while.
My shoulders had loosened.
But my chest felt strangely sore.
Marie Prat.
The words kept circling through my mind.
Strange.
It was definitely strange, but I couldn't say it was entirely strange.
I covered my face with my hands.
“Fuck…”
Meanwhile, Marie quietly exhaled as she stepped into the hall.
Her heart was beating faster than she'd expected.
She'd meant to say it as a joke, but once the words came out, her fingertips trembled a little.
Even so, she didn't regret it.
She'd had to say it someday.
Kyle was the kind of man who'd never understand if she kept speaking indirectly forever.
He could judge a sauce's consistency after a single spoonful, but he didn't understand people's feelings.
Marie smiled faintly.
“At least I said it.”
Then footsteps sounded at the end of the hall.
When Marie turned her head, Elysia was standing there.
It was her day off, so she was wearing a light dress, but her expression was anything but light.
She looked once toward Kyle's room, then back at Marie.
In an instant, Marie realized everything.
That Elysia had realized it too.
Elysia slowly walked over.
“Marie.”
Her voice was quiet.
It wasn't an angry voice.
That made Marie even more nervous.
Marie tried to smile as usual, but the corners of her mouth didn't rise as easily as she'd expected.
“My lady, did you come looking for Kyle?”
“Yes. But first.”
Elysia stopped in front of Marie.
A brief silence settled between the two.
Elysia said very calmly,
“Let's talk, just the two of us.”