Chapter 40
“If you keep sneaking into the kitchen from now on, your allowance will be cut off for a while.”
“I'm sorry.”
After the landmark thousandth time I was caught.
Mother scolded me as always.
Then, all of a sudden.
She gave an awkward cough, as if she had remembered something.
“Ahem. I misspoke. So, if you go into the kitchen from now on….”
“….”
It seemed she had remembered that, unlike Freya, I wasn’t in a position to receive allowance.
“If you go in….”
“…”
Mother trailed off.
Her pupils shook as if an earthquake had struck.
Unfortunately, she had remembered that she had no proper means of punishment to keep me in check.
To be exact, there was still corporal punishment.
But that was an option my loving mother could never bring herself to choose.
Mother's eyes lost their direction and rolled around awkwardly.
Mother, who had been trying to wring out some frightening punishment, soon gave up and played her trump card.
“…I’ll cry.”
“?”
“Every time you go into the kitchen, I’ll have to skip meals and cry alone in my room.”
Oh.
That’s a bit much.
“…I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
I bowed my head toward Mother, who was already preparing a handkerchief.
I could guess why Mother was reacting like this.
In Mother’s eyes, I was already her sore spot.
Not only had I failed to leave behind any good childhood memories, but I was also the eldest son with no talent for magic.
To her, it probably seemed that the only way I could keep my status and make a living was to become a live-in son-in-law.
‘Just because you own a trading company doesn’t mean you can keep your noble status.’
A huge merchant guild could receive treatment “comparable to” that of nobility.
But that was only similar treatment; it was not the same as being treated as a noble.
Unless it was a special case, capital could never overwhelm social rank.
So Mother seemed intent on marrying me into a proper noble family, even if it had to be as a live-in son-in-law.
And for that, a good image was essential.
Well-read, polite, and with a good reputation in society.
Only then would a good match be willing to take him in.
And yet, cooking?
In noble society, cooking was a servant’s job.
No matter how much of a hobby it was, what noble heir would personally pick up a knife and carve meat?
And not just any cooking, but offal dishes.
The eldest son of a baron’s house personally trimming cuts that only the poor would eat.
If word got out, every marriage proposal would be ruined.
‘Even if I tell them to trust me, I can’t blame parents for not being able to.’
I know I’m the protagonist, after all.
And now I’m also the Great Sage’s disciple.
So I can confidently keep pushing the alchemy route.
But Mother didn’t know any of that.
So I could understand a hundred times over why she wanted to turn me into a live-in son-in-law.
If anyone was at fault, it was me for hiding all that.
“Haa….”
Mother let out a deep sigh.
Then she murmured as if to herself.
“In a few years, you’ll be old enough to need a fiancée.”
“Yes… that’s true.”
“Then you should start minding yourself.”
“Understood. I’ll be careful.”
I lowered my head obediently.
However, and I was truly, deeply sorry to Mother about this, I had no intention of stopping cooking.
In fact, once Mother brought up the engagement, I felt even more certain that I needed to hone my cooking further.
‘What other people don’t do is precisely the kind of territory the protagonist is meant to carve out.’
That’s the grammar of the genre.
A protagonist’s uniqueness comes from things other people don’t do.
Just as the cold and ruthless Northern Grand Duke falls helplessly for a country lady with dirt on her hands from farming,
and the arrogant crown prince becomes obsessed with the desserts of a lady who bakes cookies.
The examples are a bit too romance-fantasy, though.
Still, it meant that since nobles were averse to cooking, it was worth using as part of my character.
‘I’ll have to rearrange my route so I don’t get caught….’
But as a son, I couldn’t let Mother sit alone in her room soaking handkerchiefs with tears.
So starting tomorrow, I decided I’d at least show some sincerity and take the route of sneaking into the kitchen.
‘I have been way too blatant about it so far.’
For now, I’d start by slipping in through the back door instead of walking straight through the hallway.
I stuffed my sincerity full to the brim and pointed at the broad front door leading from the dining room to the kitchen.
“From now on, I won’t be going in and out through that door.”
It was sincere, with not a single lie in it before heaven and earth.
I wouldn’t be using that door, after all. So it was sincere, in any case.
But perhaps because my sincerity was too intense,
Mother’s gaze wavered instead.
“…”
Mother pressed her lips together for a moment.
Then she opened her mouth carefully.
“…Once in a while should be fine.”
“?”
“It’s all for your sake, but I’m still worried you might be overdoing it. Once a month or so… I’ll turn a blind eye.”
Mother’s voice softened.
“I’m really sorry for stopping you from doing what you like.”
“…”
Faced with Mother’s blind affection, with tears even welling in her eyes, I could only bite my lip hard.
Somehow it felt like I wasn’t the protagonist, but an ardent filial son instead.
*
Anyway, a promise with Mother was a promise.
That didn’t mean I had any reason not to eat the food I’d made.
Tonight’s dinner was Tartare de cœur à la moelle.
In Korean, that would be yukhoe. Except this version was paired with butter-scented marrow and plated with a bit more care.
As I sat in my assigned seat, I spoke to the guest already sitting on my right.
“Did you wash your hands, Eri?”
“O-of course, Teacher.”
Eri answered, stiff with tension.
Normally, Eri’s status wouldn’t allow her to sit at this table.
As nothing more than an assistant, not even a proper bodyguard, there was no way she’d be allowed to sit in on a family meal like this.
But Father often invited Eri to meals like this.
‘It means he recognizes Eri’s talent that much.’
In this world, nobles didn’t just privately support promising magicians—they invited them to dine with them.
They ate the same food and drank the same wine to build a connection.
That was because magicians were highly likely either to found a new house or to join an existing one.
In some cases, families even bound them through adoption or marriage.
Thinking about that, an invitation to dinner wasn’t all that special after all.
‘That’s why I prepared six dishes today.’
The person involved, however, was still struggling to get used to this treatment.
Perhaps feeling sorry for her, Mother, seated across from us, spoke up.
“Miss Erika. Please relax.”
“Y-yes, ma’am! Mistress!”
Mother’s attempt to put her at ease wasn’t very effective.
She answered with her back rigidly straight, just like when she had just come up from the Limbus Pit.
There was, however, one small difference from then.
Namely, she also fully understood her own worth now.
‘She said she was learning a magician’s mindset from Chief Shen too.’
What Eri was learning from him wasn’t just practical experience.
She was also learning how mages, and magicians more broadly, were treated in society, and how to respond while receiving that treatment.
“Th-thank you for inviting me, Head of the House!”
Learning it and putting it into practice were two different matters, though.
Time would solve that, so I decided to leave her be and focus on the meal.
Then Father, who had been the last to enter the dining room, spoke.
“Yulian.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Did you make tonight’s dinner as well?”
“…Did Mother tell you?”
“If you’re going to hide it, how about changing the type of dish and the plating first? There isn’t another cook in this world who plates raw meat on a bone except you. And it would be faster to count the days when you don’t.”
Hmm.
So Father noticed too.
But plating was a serious matter, so I couldn’t compromise on it.
“Haa… if you keep this up even though you’ll be getting a fiancée soon… Well, you’re a smart boy, so I’m sure you’ll manage on your own.”
Father clicked his tongue, lightly pressing at the space between his brows.
Still, the fact that he didn’t directly bark at me to stop meant he’d half given up on it, unlike Mother.
Father sat at the head of the long table and spread a napkin over his lap.
Mother fastened a bib on Fried beside her, then spread a napkin over her own lap.
Then I unfolded mine as well.
“Eri. You’re not supposed to fold the napkin.”
I told her, since she was trying to mimic me out of the corner of her eye.
Before starting the meal, I gave one last glance over the table where the whole family had gathered.
One empty seat stood out, glaringly vacant.
“Come to think of it, I don’t see Freya today.”
At my question, the head butler assisting with the meal preparations gave a light bow and replied.
“Ah, Miss said she would dine separately in her room today. She started running a slight fever this afternoon and began coughing.”
“A cough? A cold?”
“Yes. It seems she has a bit of a cold, perhaps because of the change in season. Worried she might pass it on to the others, she decided to eat in her room today.”
Ah, so it was a cold.
Freya’s colds were practically an annual event.
Every time the seasons changed, she’d inevitably catch one.
‘Did she happen to have measles when she was little?’
I don’t really know, since I wasn’t in the main house when Freya was young.
But given how often she catches colds, it seems plausible enough.
Measles is scary because the measles virus wipes out all the immune system’s memory.
That’s why people who’ve had measles often become vulnerable to colds for years afterward.
‘Or maybe she’s just constitutionally prone to catching colds.’
But this time, the cold seemed a little different from usual.
“Still, this year’s cold seems rather severe. It’s not just coughing; she can’t even get out of bed.”
Hearing that, I began to think it might be the flu rather than a cold.
“Did you call a healer?”
“I already did. They should arrive by the time dinner is over. Will you go see her?”
“Of course.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust healers.
In a world without doctors, their skill was good enough to completely replace them.
The reason I’d watch was purely to observe healing magic.
“Once dinner is over, I’ll take some food up to her.”
“Indeed, when you have a fever, it’s best to avoid raw meat dishes like this. I’ll tell the cook to send up some warm soup.”
Father nodded calmly and picked up his fork.
“We’ve chatted long enough. Let’s eat.”
I also picked up my fork with a light smile.
“Yes, let’s eat before it gets cold. Ah, before that, may I say a few words as the cook who made this dish?”
Then, all of a sudden, an amusing line came to mind, and I stopped my fork.
Father, though puzzled, nodded.
While everyone had stopped their forks,
I gave my pre-meal greeting under the full gaze of my family.
“I never make dishes without soul. So please, do the same.” (I never serve a dish without soul. So please, savor it with yours.)
*
“Hamburg steak! It tastes like hamburg steak!”
With Fried’s bright exclamation, dinner ended very satisfyingly.
Father and Mother had both flinched at first when they learned it was a heart dish, but after tasting a bite, they were too busy moving their forks in silence.
“How curious. It’s an offal dish, yet there isn’t the slightest fishiness.”
“This aroma… butter? Hmm? Marrow, you say? You know an interesting cooking method.”
It seemed both of them liked the dish.
For reference, Eri was eating just fine from the start.
She was the kind of kid who had even dunked her head into a bucket full of blood.
A dish made from nothing more than a heart could never upset her stomach.
“Slurp.”
“Eri. Stop licking the bones.”
“Eh? This is the good stuff.”
And so, the satisfying dinner came to an end.
I wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin, smiling lightly.
The servants cleaned up the dining room after the meal.
I was handed the tray containing the warm chicken soup and herbal tea I had asked the kitchen to prepare in advance.
“We could have carried that for you….”
“No, I’ll go myself while I check on Freya’s condition.”
I didn’t forget to take my medical bag along, just in case.
“Then I’ll go check on Freya’s condition.”
“Yes, I’m counting on you. If the fever is severe, let me know at once.”
“Yes, Father.”
Leaving Mother and Father behind, I walked along the quiet second-floor hallway with the tray in hand.
Freya’s room was at the end of the second-floor hallway,
on the opposite end from my room.
Knock, knock.
“Freya. May I come in?”
There was no answer.
Instead, I heard an unfamiliar voice from inside.
— “Please come in, young master.”
I could tell at once that it was the voice of the healer Father had summoned.
I opened the door and went inside.
When I entered Freya’s room, I saw someone already there.
Beside the canopy bed where Freya lay.
The healer looking down at Freya had a stiff expression.
“How is she, Sister?”
“Th-that… is…”
A sweat-soaked lock of brown hair stuck out from between the female priest’s headscarf.
Her veil was drenched in sweat too, so it was obvious at a glance how much effort this priestess had poured into Freya.
The priestess opened her mouth with a troubled expression.
“That’s… strange. I definitely cast healing magic, but the fever won’t go down.”
“It won’t go down?”
“Yes. If anything….”
I glared at the priestess.
The priestess flinched and fell prostrate before me.
“I-I’m sorry! Please, spare my life…!”
“….”
A priest who failed to heal a noble could very well end up in danger of losing their life.
Even more so if they had no special connections.
That was why, back when I wore the raven mask, I had been misunderstood in that way.
“I swear to God, I did my best!”
“…Do you still have any divine power left?”
“W-well… only a little…”
This was a place with no sacred symbols, and on top of that, it was night, not even daytime.
She probably cast one or two heals and then ran her divine power dry.
I met the eyes of the priestess, who kept glancing nervously at me.
And then,
“For now, start praying and gather your divine power. I’ll look after my little sister in the meantime.”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s just say I’m something like an aspiring healer. I can take a look too.”
I took the healer’s place as she stood there in confusion,
and leaned in toward the canopy bed, where shallow breathing could be heard.
Freya was lying there with the blanket pulled up to her chin.
Her half-lidded, dazed eyes were turned toward me.
“…Broth-er?”
“Freya. Can you talk?”
“….”
No answer came back.
I studied Freya’s face closely.
Behind those half-closed eyes, I could see a hazy focus.
“Freya. Open your eyes for me.”
Slowly, her eyes opened.
Eye response: 3 points.
“Where are we right now?”
“…I don’t know.”
Slow, but she does answer.
There was just a slight confusion there.
Verbal response: 4 points.
“Hold my hand tightly.”
Her slender fingers weakly grasped my hand.
She did follow instructions.
Motor response: 6 points.
‘Total score: 13. Mild altered consciousness.’
Thirteen out of fifteen wasn’t yet dangerous.
But a simple cold or flu wouldn’t cause a drop in consciousness.
In other words, this was clearly abnormal.
‘Let’s check the fever first.’
I placed the back of my hand against her forehead.
I took a mercury thermometer from my medical bag and tucked it under her arm.
‘What the heck.’
The thermometer was bouncing between 39 and 41.
“When did you cast the healing magic?”
“A-about an hour ago.”
“You said the fever hadn’t gone down since then. Has it gotten worse?”
“…Yes. I think so.”
I looked over Freya’s face again.
Her cheeks were flushed red.
It looked like a simple fever flush.
Poke.
“Mm….”
Even when I pressed lightly with my index finger, it didn’t turn pale.
Normally, the pressed spot should have blanched white before turning red again.
‘Non-blanching erythema…?’
This wasn’t a simple cold symptom.
As that thought flashed through my mind, my gaze moved to Freya’s half-closed eyes.
“Freya. Let me take a look at your eyes for a second.”
I carefully lifted Freya’s eyelid.
The whites of her eyes were bloodshot.
Her entire conjunctiva was covered in red capillaries.
But there was no eye discharge.
‘Conjunctival congestion without discharge.’
It’s a physical symptom indicating a systemic infection.
I began to think it might be vasculitis, or perhaps sepsis.
After that, I examined her body one part at a time.
Dry lips. Blue-tinted nails. Her pulse was racing, and her breathing sounded wet.
And I could feel a hard lump on the left side of her abdomen.
‘Her spleen is enlarged….’
Countless infectious diseases flashed through my mind.
Measles? Whooping cough? Smallpox?
Then the priestess, who had quietly been praying in the corner, stood up and said,
“I-I’ve recovered a little. One more time now…!”
The moment I saw that, something I’d recently learned from my master flashed through my mind.
— “Yulian. Healing magic isn’t just about healing. There are principles and types to healing magic…”
Before I could even recall all of my master’s words, I turned to the priestess.
Then I grabbed her wrist just as she was about to reach for Freya and said,
“Let’s stop here.”
“Pardon?”
“I said stop. Unless you’re trying to kill Freya.”
“W-what do you mean….”
I said, looking down at Freya as she gasped for breath.
“It’s demon disease.”
“What?!””Freya has demon disease right now.”],