The Elf Who Wants to Eat Pudding (3)
“Here! Over here, Professor!”
Pares was waving enthusiastically from her broom on the other side of the sky.
The broom bobbed up and down in response to her mana, making her excitement painfully obvious.
“Pares. I told you not to make such a fuss.”
Luikus clicked his tongue and flew toward her at a much more dignified pace.
Of all the lies she could have told me, she chose to claim she'd seen the Black Flame Witch…
He had more than enough work already.
Between preparing an academic lecture and managing his private mercenary company, there was hardly a spare moment in his schedule. And then Pares, who was supposed to be finishing her graduation assignment, had burst into his laboratory with the astounding claim that she'd found the Black Flame Witch.
At first he had been bewildered.
Then he had become angry.
The Black Flame Witch had been missing for twenty years. What was an apprentice thinking, arriving with such nonsense?
But Pares had looked so certain that he couldn't dismiss her completely.
In the end, curiosity got the better of him, and he accompanied her.
Now he was beginning to regret it.
There is no chance she simply reappeared without anyone noticing.
Ten years had passed since the senior members of the witch association decided the Black Flame Witch must be dead.
Most witches now spoke of her as someone who belonged to the past.
A few unusual people, including Dremes of the Dokwol Guild, still believed she was alive. Luikus was not among them.
He had long assumed that the Black Flame Witch had died somewhere, perhaps without anyone ever learning how.
That was the trouble with witches.
Even when their natural lives were almost over, their bodies could remain healthy and their faces youthful. They might never realize their end was approaching.
The magic binding a witch's existence—sometimes called the chain of fate—had a cruel consequence. When the allotted span was exhausted, death came as abruptly as a puppet collapsing when its strings were cut.
There were stories of witches spending a passionate night with a lover, only to be found dead in bed the following morning.
Perhaps that's the punishment for defying the natural order.
Witches remained subject to their allotted fate. However powerful the Black Flame Witch had been, Luikus could see no reason she would have escaped it.
But then—
“Huh?”
They reached the clearing Pares had been indicating.
Luikus looked down.
His eyes widened.
“How…?”
A vast black spear was embedded in a Minotaur's enormous body.
Mana still poured from it.
The weapon towered above the trees on the mountainside, and its presence was unmistakable.
The Gwangpung Black Kill Spear.
“See, Professor? I told you I'd met the Black Flame Witch!”
Pares sounded almost unbearably pleased with herself.
Luikus stared at the evidence for another moment before slowly nodding.
“…It seems you were right. The Black Flame Witch is alive.”
Whether she had somehow overcome the fate of witches, or had simply disappeared and returned, he could not say.
But the news would send a shock through the entire witch community.
The elf returned to the Deharem mansion, changed into her maid's uniform, and went to the dining room.
She badly wanted to eat her pudding.
Unfortunately, dinner was approaching, and she ought to see whether the chef needed her help.
She placed the box of pudding on the dining table and went into the adjoining kitchen.
The chef was standing there, stroking his chin with a troubled expression.
He was plainly still deciding what to serve that evening.
“Chef.”
He turned in surprise.
When he saw the elf standing there, blinking innocently, his face softened into a smile.
“Ah, it's you. Come to help me cook again?”
“If you need me.”
“Ha! No, no. You're a fine cook, but if I depend on you every day, I'll forget how to do my own job. Take a rest today.”
“If you say so… Have you decided on dinner yet?”
“Not yet. That's what I'm trying to figure out. What can I make that the master will really enjoy?”
It was a reasonable concern.
Theorad was so good-natured that he would praise almost anything put in front of him. That hardly made it easier for a cook who wanted to improve his skill.
The elf was about to offer advice when an idea occurred to her.
“What about cream pasta?”
“Cream pasta?”
The chef rubbed his chin, considered it, and shook his head.
“I'd need fresh milk for that, and we don't have any.”
“I have some milk.”
It wasn't cow's milk, of course.
It was breast milk.
The chef knew nothing of that. He looked at her in surprise.
“You do? Where?”
“I put it in a bucket deep inside the cold storage. Didn't you see it?”
“Oh… Now that you mention it, I think I did see a bucket. When did you get the milk?”
“I made it with Master a few days ago.”
“With the viscount? Ah, so the two of you visited a dairy farm.”
He had said it casually, without the slightest suspicion.
For reasons the elf couldn't quite explain, she suddenly felt odd.
“Yes… something like that.”
“Why has your face turned red? Well, never mind. We have milk, then. I'll try making cream pasta.”
“All right. I'll rest for a while.”
“Go on, then.”
The elf dipped her head and left the kitchen.
At last, she could eat the pudding she'd worked so hard to obtain.
She sat down at the dining table and opened the box.
Inside was a glossy, perfectly made pudding.
Even looking at it made her mouth water.
This is going to be delicious.
She picked up the spoon that had come with it.
And hesitated.
After all the trouble she'd taken to get it, eating it so casually seemed a waste.
Perhaps I should have it with black tea.
A slave would hardly have been permitted such a luxury under ordinary circumstances.
But she had become friendly with the chef by helping in the kitchen. He would probably let her make a cup.
She set down the spoon and rose.
It had been so long since she'd indulged in a proper delicacy. She wanted to enjoy it as it deserved.
Leaving the pudding on the table, she returned to the kitchen.
Ashley and I were sitting at opposite ends of the carriage on our way back to the mansion.
We had changed back into our usual clothes.
There was only so much distance one could put between two people in a carriage, but we were making the most of it.
We hadn't quarreled.
Things were simply awkward.
Don't look at other men. It irritates me when you pay attention to anyone but me.
What had possessed me to say something like that?
I must have been out of my mind.
After taking the nutritional supplement Ashley had given me, I'd felt strangely unlike myself. Some peculiar excitement had taken hold of me, and I'd gone around saying things I would never normally dare to say.
Now that feeling had passed, all I had left was embarrassment.
My face was burning.
I couldn't bring myself to look at Ashley, and she was very deliberately avoiding my eyes too.
I hated the silence.
We'd be parting again soon. I didn't want to send her away without another word.
“Ahem.”
I cleared my throat and tried to sound casual.
“Ashley, is everything all right with your family?”
“Pardon? Ah…”
She hesitated.
“There hasn't been any serious trouble. Except that my brother Fred suddenly left the castle.”
“Brother Fred?”
“Yes. He went away without telling anyone, and he still hasn't come back. Father is terribly angry. I wonder where he is and what he's doing…”
An unhappy little smile crossed her face.
I wanted to disappear.
You idiot!
Why, of all possible things, had I asked about her family?
I'd tried to cheer her up and made her sad instead.
If I could have turned back time by even a minute, I would have done it without hesitation.
Unfortunately, time moved forward.
Rattle…
Before I could repair the damage, the carriage reached my mansion.
I have to say something. Anything. Before the coachman opens the door.
I shifted my hands nervously and forced the words out.
“Um, Ashley. About what I said just now—”
“Lord Theorad.”
She leaned slightly toward me and laid her slender hand over mine.
“Don't give up.”
I understood what she meant.
But I didn't have the confidence she seemed to want from me.
“You know I can't resist her, don't you?”
“I'm not telling you to resist her. I'm telling you not to encourage her. Those are two different things.”
There was no accusation in her voice, only a quiet sincerity that seemed to reach through the wall of fear inside me.
I nodded.
Ashley gave me a faint smile and withdrew her hand.
Just then the carriage door opened.
“We've arrived, Viscount Theorad!”
“Right…”
There was no escaping the moment.
I stepped down. The coachman shut the door, climbed back to his seat, and urged the horses forward.
I stood there until the carriage carrying Ashley had disappeared.
Then I turned toward the mansion.
The happiness of the day had ended. The reality waiting inside—an elf I could neither understand nor safely disobey—was frightening.
But there was nothing to do except face it.
You can do this. You can do this!
I patted both cheeks, gave myself a silent encouragement, and went inside.
It was almost dinner time.
I walked into the dining room and noticed something unusual on the table.
Pudding.
Pudding?
Why was there pudding sitting out before dinner?
Had the chef made a special dessert?
No, that can't be right.
Nobody served dessert before the meal.
The elf must have left it there. Apart from the chef, she was the only person who regularly came and went through the kitchen.
But why would she put a pudding on the table and then disappear?
What's her purpose?
Fortunately, I had become something of an expert in the study of elves.
A mystery like this was well within my ability to solve.
I see. She wants me to insult it.
It was another test.
She must have made the pudding and left it for me. If I ate it and viciously criticized the taste, I would earn a perfect score in her peculiar game.
The answer was obvious.
Satisfied with my reasoning, I sat down and picked up the spoon.
I took a small bite.
Soft.
Sweet.
The flavor spread across my tongue with a surprising richness, leaving a delicious aftertaste.
What? This is incredible.
I wasn't even particularly fond of pudding.
Yet I had to admit that this was something special. It was too well made to dismiss as an ordinary dessert.
“Mmm…”
I took another spoonful.
Then another.
Before I quite realized what I was doing, the bowl was empty.
I was still licking my lips in regret when the kitchen door opened.
The elf came toward me, carrying a teapot and a teacup.
“Ah.”
When she noticed me, she smiled brightly.
“You're back, Master?”
“Yes. But this pudding of yours was dreadful.”
“Pudding…?”
She said the word softly, then looked at the dish in front of me.
The pudding was gone.
Every last spoonful.
Only a few traces remained in the bowl.
“……”
For once, a look of genuine bewilderment appeared on the elf's face.
What an actress.
I laughed, certain that this was the reaction she wanted.
“You call this garbage a dessert? A lowly sow like you can't do anything properl—”
“Master.”
She cut me off.
A shadow had fallen across her face.
Something murderous flickered in those bright red eyes.
“What have you done?”
Huh?
She seemed angry.
Very angry.
The problem was that I hadn't the slightest idea why.
“Master.”
I still couldn't answer.
“I'm asking what you did.”
The air around us seemed to freeze.
Fear crept up my back and closed around my entire body.
Oh God.
Perhaps that pudding had been the last supper of my life.