Chapter 94
Chapter 94. The Rose's Invitation (1)
"Is all of this the queue for CCC?"
"That's right, head to the back over there."
"Where exactly am I supposed to go?"
"Aish, what a bother...... Waaaaaaaaaaaaaay over there is the end of the queue."
"The train station? I just came from there?"
"Then go back."
It was no exaggeration that North Times had covered CCC's pilgrimage-like queue in their follow-up report.
A line stretching from the pub district where the CCC main branch was located all the way to the train station.
Word had it that once you joined the queue, you had to put in at least 2 nights before you could finally get your hands on the chicken.
With things having come to this, the city hall was calling in with complaints ten times a day asking them to do something about it.
Of course, after Penelope sent the mayor a crate of oranges, those calls stopped entirely.
In any case, even Jurgen, who had intended to give CCC a story through the Royal Warrant, had overlooked something.
The Royal Supply Committee was an institution under the Ministry of the Royal Household, which handled all affairs of the royal household.
Since the Ministry of the Royal Household was essentially the royal family's secretariat, even Hanbin, who had been the Minister of Internal Affairs, had had almost no dealings with it.
And so to Hanbin, the Royal Warrant was little more than a vague impression of 'something good that gets supplied to the royal household.'
Which is why Jurgen had overlooked it.
What the Royal Warrant meant to the 'commoners.'
"They say even Her Majesty the Queen eats it! When else would I ever get a chance like this?"
"To think the day would come in my lifetime when I'd eat food supplied to the royal household......"
"If I'd known the queue would be this long, I would've eaten some when they were handing it out on the street before."
"I've actually eaten that dish before."
"What? Really? That, what was it...... the Gravy Sauce and Mashed Potato too?"
"Isn't that exactly why I've joined the queue again?"
A queue with no end in sight.
Their longing was in truth not so much for the 'chicken' itself as it was for the 'Royal Warrant.'
In high society, the Royal Warrant carries a premium along the lines of 'Oh, that's the real thing, genuinely top-tier.'
For the wealthy it's the sort of sum they put down without a second thought — 'It's pricey, but for this level of quality......'
But for commoners, it's different.
Even if they wanted to buy a single vase bearing the Royal Warrant mark, there was simply no way to afford it.
Setting aside all talk of what earth it was moulded from, which esteemed master craftsman decorated it, and what jewels were set into it......
Anyone in their right mind couldn't do something as mad as sinking half a year's wages into a flower vase.
But chicken?
Endure just two days with eyes shut and you could eat a rare delicacy served to the royal household for less than a single silver coin.
On top of that, Nortaris was a city brimming with Adventurers well-accustomed to sleeping rough.
"In other words, unlike other Warrant products, I'm inclined to think it's because the accessibility is so much higher."
"Even accounting for that, it's incredible! This is a miracle!"
Yet no matter what reasoning was offered, to Brigitte this sight seemed no less a miracle than the parting of the Red Sea.
"To think you could draw a queue this long in the food and beverage industry in Britannia......! Even if I had received the Royal Warrant, it would have been absolutely, utterly impossible! The Culinary Revolution was real all along!"
Brigitte, shaking her fists in excitement.
She had said she wanted to go pay her respects to her grandfather after the competition, and four days later she had joined Y&P as planned.
The very first scene Brigitte laid eyes on upon arriving in Nortaris, hunched over like a snail under a backpack stuffed to the brim with her belongings, had been that endless queue......
"Teacher really is something else! My judgement in deciding to learn so much from you was not mistaken!"
"The eagerness to improve is admirable, but can't we do something about that 'Teacher' title?"
"'Teacher' is the highest form of address I know, so there's nothing I can do!"
All the way from the train station to the Y&P company building (second floor of the warehouse), every word out of her mouth had been nothing but praise.
It was appreciated that Brigitte was coming across as far more warm and receptive than expected, but Jurgen felt slightly ticklish about it.
Purely in terms of standing as a culinary professional, Brigitte was in an entirely different league above him......
'Teacher, Teacher' — the title was a touch more than he felt he deserved.
"Jurgen isn't extraordinary every single time either."
Penelope, who had been watching Brigitte sing Jurgen's praises to death, cut in bluntly.
"Back when he was first selling coffee at a general goods shop, it wasn't going well."
"Really? The word 'failure' actually existed in Teacher's vocabulary?"
Jurgen cleared his throat.
"Ahem, isn't that quite common in the early stages of a business?"
"It wasn't at the level of common. The only regular customer was me."
"Why bring up old stories out of nowhere?"
"Because you're trying to turn Brigitte into a believer like some cult leader. Someone has to deliver the objective truth."
"I have done no such thing."
"Yes, you did."
Penelope gave a hmph and folded her arms.
An out-of-nowhere exposé had been delivered, but Penelope occasionally pulled inexplicable stunts for no apparent reason, so one simply had to let it go.
If anything, the fact that it chipped away at Brigitte's illusions by a reasonable measure was almost welcome.
"As expected of Teacher! Starting from humble beginnings, and yet ultimately achieving such magnificent feats!"
Not that it made any difference to Brigitte.
"In any case, I should introduce Miss Serena soon......"
"She seems to be coming up right now."
Speak of the devil — the door swung open and Serena made her entrance.
Seeing her dressed up as elaborately as she had been at the photo shoot, Jurgen sensed it immediately.
Today's Serena...... was somehow different.
"I trust everyone is well."
Serena, delivering a curtsy of impeccable quality with graceful dignity, walked in lightly with her chin held rigidly high.
Jurgen and Penelope's eyes followed Serena in silence.
"...... Ah, might I ask the name of the person over there?"
"Hm? Oh, yes! I'm Brigitte, of Brigitte's Dining! Pleased to meet you!"
"My, you must be Miss Brigitte, the one I'd heard had been taken on as a researcher at Y&P Trading Company. I have been well acquainted with your esteemed name through correspondence."
"Um, Teacher Jurgen. What does 'esteemed name' mean?"
Brigitte, thoroughly flustered by a vocabulary word she had never heard in her life, appealed for help.
"Ah, my introduction is overdue."
Serena, paying her no mind, smiled serenely and introduced herself in a soft, measured tone.
"My name is Serena Renoir. By the boundlessly gracious blessing of Her Majesty the Queen, I have been invested with the rank of Viscountcy. At present, I humbly lend what meagre strength I possess to Y&P Trading Company, holding the principal responsibility of the technology division."
"Invested......? Principal responsibility......?"
"What persona is this now......"
Watching Brigitte and Serena's interaction, Penelope pressed her hand to her forehead and nursed her headache.
As one could probably tell.
This was a scene of Serena's longstanding desire manifesting in a distorted form.
She had finally gotten the Viscountcy she had dreamed of even in her sleep, and yet somehow the treatment she received at Y&P felt ever so slightly ambiguous.
Penelope was a friend — setting aside the whole being-the-young-lady-of-the-Rosemore-Count-Family part.
Jurgen was a terrifying senior in the field concealing his true identity.
Baron Keystone was a nobleman of high repute and distinguished lineage who, for whatever reason, regarded Serena unfavourably.
The only one left was Branch Manager Belheim, but Serena felt an enormous distance from the oily Belheim for some reason.
And then — Y&P's new face Brigitte arrives! A commoner by birth!
This was her chance to tighten the reins and reclaim the dignity befitting a Viscountcy.
A so-called image change, if you will.
Blinking, Brigitte asked Serena:
"Miss Serena, may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"What is a Viscountcy?"
"It is one of the noble ranks."
"A noble rank? Aren't the noble ranks Baron, Viscount, Count, Marquis, and Duke — and that's it?"
"Th, those are the ranks obtained through bloodline...... and Viscountcy is far! Faaaaaaar! more impressive than all of that!!!"
Brigitte's guileless assault was all it took — one minute was more than enough for Serena's masquerade to come to an end.
***
Brigitte was to be the key figure responsible going forward for recipe improvements and research and development of new products.
It was only natural, then, to provide her with a company residence fitted with a decent kitchen.
In truth, it just so happened that there was a spare room in the Townhouse, and the kitchen facilities were excellent to boot...... the plan had been to give Brigitte the spare room, but it fell through due to Penelope's fierce pushback of 'Are you out of your mind? Absolutely not!'
And so a separate Townhouse right next door to Jurgen's was given to Brigitte, with the arrangement that only the kitchen would be shared during the day.
The Townhouse was spacious enough, but having a grown young woman living as a lodger wasn't a particularly good look either.
"It's not like we're strapped for funds like before. Go ahead and make full use of a company residence. Doesn't that make sense?"
"I said I was sorry, didn't I?"
"And while we're at it, it would be better to build Brigitte her own kitchen too."
"Wouldn't that be a waste? She'll be spending more time doing joint research anyway."
Penelope, who had continued throwing reproaches for quite some time after that, clamped her mouth shut and snapped her head to the side over some part of the replies she didn't like.
Jurgen smiled wryly.
They had been together long enough now that he knew her small quirks.
For instance — when something bothered her but she ran out of things to say, she had a habit of puffing her cheeks out and turning her head away.
And that at times like these, if he soothed her gently, she would quickly break into a grin and let go of her irritation.
"......"
But today was a little different.
Penelope's shoe, tilting faintly in time with the sway of the carriage.
Even without a word, it was proof that Penelope's mood had already settled.
To be more precise — perhaps it was more that she was feeling so many emotions at once that there was no room to dwell on trivial things.
Clunk, clunk.
The carriage, with the two of them seated facing each other, was passing through an endless expanse of green plains.
Even after well over thirty minutes of travelling, the only thing that changed was the shape of the clouds.
Fertile, vast land too precious to leave idle — rare in the North, where rugged mountain ranges and barren soil made up most of the terrain.
And even more remarkable was this: from the horizon visible in the far distance to the mountain range behind them, all of this land was the private estate of a single family alone.
The North's greatest distinguished family.
The Rosemore Count Family's.
"Are you very nervous?"
"...... No? Why would I be nervous going home?"
After the article announcing CCC's Royal Warrant was published.
Penelope had received a reply from her elder sister Clarisse.
It had in fact been sent in response to the letter she wrote back when Cola had first gone on sale in earnest, making it a reply that had been an awfully long time coming.
What's more, for how long she had waited, the content was very brief.
[Dining together after all this time would be nice]
Even so, it was enough to make hope well up in Penelope's heart.
Up until now she had met with nothing but failure, failure, and more failure, and had been cast aside by her family.
She nominally held the management of The Richfield Hotel, but all the money generated from it was siphoned straight into the family trust.
She had not achieved the 5th Rank, the bare minimum qualification required to be considered a worthy heir, and she had lost spectacularly on the investment she had been entrusted with — so honestly, she had nothing to say for herself.
"But the me of now is different."
She had risen to the 5th Rank.
She had struck it big with Cola, and this time around had even secured the Royal Warrant.
Jurgen's help had been immense, but Penelope had demonstrated more than enough capability through Y&P Trading Company.
It might appear trivial to the Rosemore family's eyes.
But it may well have been sufficient for them to reach the judgement that 'Penelope is no longer a useless flower.'
"I've ended up introducing you much later than planned. There's no need to be too tense."
"Understood."
"I told you, didn't I? In front of my sister, you're not to use that bizarre manner of speech."
"That too, understood."
"Let's put a bit more oil in your hair later. It needs to be swept back further. My sister likes things clean and neat."
"......"
Anticipation. Excitement. A faint undercurrent of anxiety about a future where that anticipation might be crushed.
Inwardly, Jurgen felt concern for Penelope, whose emotions were all mixed together in a hazy blur.
He did not know why Penelope was so deeply attached to her family.
Nor did he understand her desire to be properly acknowledged by a family that had pushed her away and cast her out so thoroughly.
Nor why the reason behind it was that she wished to be on good terms with her sister again.
It was a territory that didn't quite reach Jurgen's heart.
Perhaps family was just like that.
Before long, the carriage seemed to slow, then came to a gradual stop.
"We've arrived."
Escorted by the coachman, Penelope jumped nimbly down from the carriage.
Following her out, Jurgen was able to see for himself the legendary Rosemore estate, so long spoken of in rumour alone.
"Well, well......"
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Now he understood why certain admirers called the Rosemore Count Family the kings of the North.
Crossing the deep blue moat stretching for dozens of kilometres that called to mind a vast manor estate, what awaited here was......
A beautiful garden whose full extent was impossible to measure.
And standing tall — a massive fortress, far too grand and remote a word to be contained by the cosy term 'estate.'