Chapter 103
Chapter 103. Resolution (3)
A white tablecloth without a single blemish. Atop silver trays, the Chicken Full Spread revealed itself before the noble young ladies.
Golden-fried Fried Chicken; Seasoned Chicken coated in a ruby-red glaze. Mashed Potato made generously with fresh cream and butter. And not a meager dipping portion, but a generous quantity of Gravy Sauce deep enough to fully submerge the chicken.
The assembled noble young ladies' initial reaction to all this was——
"So this is the Royal Warrant dish everyone has been talking about."
"Hmm, it's not quite what I expected."
"I knew chicken was a dish made from fowl, but…… it was fried??"
Rather like a child who unwrapped a Christmas present only to find an encyclopedia inside……
Yes, it fell a little flat.
In Britannia, fried food was treated as commoner's fare. Was it not a lowly cooking method devised to take ingredients of rather poor quality, fry them in oil, and make them at least palatable and calorie-dense?
This was not an entirely groundless prejudice. The reason Fish and Chips was a Soul Food was simply because cod and potatoes were cheap, and frying allowed for mass preparation — nothing more.
And so to a noble, 'fried food' was less a cuisine and more akin to an urban legend.
Something one had never actually eaten, but encountered only through the terrifying idiom of: 'Keep that up and you'll go bankrupt and eat nothing but Fish and Chips every day.'
"Is this bright red paint the sauce? No matter how I look at it, it doesn't seem like something one eats……."
"They say it received the Royal Warrant, but this is a bit……."
"The potato dish and the Gravy are also somewhat beneath one's dignity."
"Could it be that Her Highness the Fifth Princess simply had a whim……? She is still quite young, after all."
They all lingered uncertainly, staring at the chicken sitting plainly on the plate with no elaborate plating to speak of.
They had heard it received the Royal Warrant and half expected something extraordinary — but was this not simply a perfectly ordinary piece of fried food? Given the nature of the occasion, being the first to reach for such a common dish would draw unwanted attention.
'Aah, it does smell wonderful, though…….'
'Oh come now, a noble does not eat fried food.'
'Ah, should I quietly ask them to wrap some up for me afterwards?'
Even as a provocative aroma wafted up, tantalizingly shaking their instincts right under their noses, it was still the case.
"Everyone, why are you all frozen solid like that?"
"W-well, you see…… No one mentioned the chicken would be fried."
"Ohoho, the unfamiliar is always daunting. Shall I try it first?"
"A-are you quite sure you'll be alright?"
"Think of it as a commoner experience."
The first to move was the organizer of this gathering, Vivian Ashford.
It was not as though she was particularly drawn to chicken herself.
But it made for an unsightly picture to see food a guest had brought in good faith receive the cold shoulder. It was Vivian who had invited Penelope to this gathering, and she would take responsibility as a proper hostess.
"Lady Penelope, is there a particular way to eat this?"
"First, please try the Fried Chicken as it is. Then enjoy it dipped generously in the Gravy Sauce, and finally, savor the Seasoned Chicken. For the pairing, instead of spirits, we've prepared Cola — Y&P's signature product."
To debone with nothing but fork and knife was a basic point of table etiquette. Vivian elegantly worked the meat off a drumstick and took a bite of the chicken.
Everyone's attention was fixed on that bold attempt.
"……?!"
Vivian's eyes flew open with startling intensity. Her trademark bun hairdo — the one that took a full hour and a half to set — bounced like a spring.
"Th-this…… I did not expect this."
"Does it befit the dignity of the Royal Household?"
"But, of, course, it, does, I, have, never, had, food, like, this, in, all, my, life."
The reason Vivian's words came out fragmented——
It was because even as she answered, she was deboning the chicken at a dazzling speed and ferrying it to her mouth without pause.
How can chicken produce a flavor like this? How can fried food produce a flavor like this? How can a sauce this shockingly red produce a flavor like this? How can Gravy Sauce — essentially scraped-together drippings — produce a flavor like this? How can humble peasant potato produce a flavor like this? Can the world really contain a flavor like this?
Vivian, who had achieved the perfect embodiment of the contradictory act of 'eating voraciously with refinement,' was genuinely astounded. And the other young ladies, watching Vivian, were equally astounded.
"V-Vivian's arms have multiplied to eight!"
"No……! That's afterimages, it only looks that way because of afterimages!"
"Is it really that delicious?!"
Despite her slight appearance, Vivian was a 6th Rank Knight. She was putting that ability to splendid use in the service of eating as much as possible.
At this point, curiosity took hold of the other young ladies too. One by one they each tried a bite of the chicken, and sighs of wonder began to escape.
"My goodness……. This brown sauce is really……."
"How can a sauce this scarlet red taste like this!"
"This potato dish is extraordinary too. So fluffy and crumbly, and the scent of butter is simply divine!"
"The pairing with Cola is absolutely perfect? The richness just vanishes — whoosh!"
Behind her composed expression, Penelope's eyes gleamed with a joy-filled light.
Of course they would. It was a flavor that made one cast dignity aside and surrender to instinct.
"Aah, it was truly a dream-like experience."
"I now understand completely why it received the Royal Warrant."
"Lady Rosemore, might there be another occasion like this in future?"
After the banquet had concluded, the lips of the young ladies glistened with a sheen of oil. Some even had seasoning sauce on their cheeks.
The guarded looks they had worn softened considerably into something far more warm. Across all ages and all cultures, those who give you something delicious are good people.
"But of course. Before that, however, I have something of great importance to share."
From Penelope's perspective, however, this had not been goodwill freely given. To borrow Jurgen's expression, it was a Presentation.
"Is there anyone who would like to have a quiet conversation with me?"
It was a rather abrupt thing to say.
But the moment those words — which could have sounded like a cheap come-on — were uttered, a wave of heated gazes poured over her, enough to make one tingle all over. Eyes that said: please choose me, please let me be the one beside you — the look of those seeking to be selected. The members of this salon were not so foolish as to misread what being singled out at this particular moment meant.
"Lady Ashford, Lady Coldwell, Lady Brampton — shall we step somewhere else for a brief conversation?"
From those whose eyes had met hers, Penelope called out the names she had had in mind.
"Lady Rosemore, might I join as well?"
"I too would very much like to have a deeper conversation."
"Ladies? Lady Penelope is now a member of our Blue Door Salon going forward. Shall we look forward to next time?"
After Vivian cleanly dealt with the other young ladies who clung on with wanting eyes, they moved to a separate room within the salon set aside for private conversations.
.
.
.
"So then, what enticing proposition did you call us here to share?"
"Lady Coldwell, please don't be so unrefined."
"Can't help it. It's just the way I was born — the moment I catch a whiff of money, my whole body runs hot."
Those selected numbered three.
Lady Ashford of the Ashford Marquisate, Lady Coldwell of the Coldwell Viscountcy, Lady Brampton of the Brampton Barony.
All three wore expressions of no small curiosity.
The moment they ate the menu Penelope had served from CCC, a conviction took hold: 'This sells.' And it seemed they might be able to get a foot in the door — how could they not be pleased?
Penelope received their gazes with composure.
A fresh wave of feeling washed over her anew.
These three were young ladies who had proven exceptional ability even within the Blue Door Salon. They were also people who, in days gone by, would not have exchanged so much as a word with Penelope in social circles.
They might not stoop to openly gossiping the way the boorish and uncultured did, but for all she knew, perhaps in the past they had gathered in this very room and used Penelope's embarrassments as drinking material.
But they looked upon Penelope now as an equal counterpart in a transaction. In place of mockery and contempt, a halo of wariness and acknowledgment drifted along the edges of their eyes.
At the same time, the scene from moments ago floated to mind. The hands that had all reached toward Penelope at once, as if in supplication. The forlorn sighs of those not chosen.
In that moment, Penelope had felt a pleasant tension and an inexplicable sense of intoxication.
A captivating pleasure distinct from the exhilaration of success — the kind born of confirming one's own influence and hierarchical standing. Suddenly, Penelope found herself wanting to ask.
'Was this it?'
The thing her sister wanted. The reason her sister had been able to cut her younger sister away without hesitation.
She did not know. Perhaps she would never know.
Penelope had already made one choice and stood here in this room.
"I am aware that all three of you are businesswomen who have reached the very top in your respective fields. And furthermore……."
The one thing these three had in common — they were not of the pro-Rosemore faction. And——
"I also know that you do not get along particularly well with my elder sister, Clarisse Rosemore."
They were people who had a troubled history with Clarisse. Lady Brampton, whose expression had stiffened ever so slightly the moment Clarisse's name was spoken, asked——
"So then, have we gathered here to exchange gossip about her?"
"That would not be so bad either, but I wished to offer you a rather fine proposition."
"A proposition?"
"I would like to embark on Y&P's new venture together with all three of you."
A sweet proposition most difficult to refuse.
***
"Of all times, why now. I was just getting nicely tipsy."
Aiden grumbled quietly to himself.
Gray Council Chairman Marcus's request had been simple.
Simply threaten one commoner, strip him of his Y&P stake, and chase him out of Nortaris.
For a former Secret Burial Unit operative, it was a bland mission — no prestige, no dignity to speak of.
But what could he do? He had been on the receiving end for so long that he had to move every now and then.
And so Aiden had climbed a tree with a good view of the Townhouse, and with a stiff rum for company, was lazily keeping watch on the commoner fellow called Jurgen.
He was waiting for the moment the man was alone, to pounce. It was a mission dull enough to make him yawn, but Marcus had earnestly requested — absolutely, absolutely — that no witnesses be left behind.
He did not particularly care if Marcus was disappointed or angry, but having his cash flow cut off was genuinely painful.
"Oh, the fellow's cooperating a little, is he?"
Spotting Jurgen emerging from the Townhouse and heading toward the old town district, Aiden gave a low whistle.
The old town district was a section of the city abandoned after the Great Subjugation, when the city's center had shifted to the vicinity of the Labyrinth Demon Realm. A remote location that saw no foot traffic save for the occasional vagrant or stray cat.
It was as if the prey were walking straight into a dead end of its own accord.
'Better finish this quickly and get to the casino.'
He had a pleasant buzz going, but no matter. Aiden staggered yet moved with stealth, following behind Jurgen.
'What business could there possibly be in a back alley like this…….'
A maze of alleyways, the man's back as he rounded bend after bend.
But it presented no problem for Aiden whatsoever. The man made no effort to conceal his footsteps, had no notion of hiding his presence. Naturally, he showed no sign of being aware that a tail had latched onto him.
It could not be helped. His target was nothing more than a commoner.
To Aiden, who had been ground nearly to death on battlefields, it was a mission so tedious he could not suppress his yawns.
But then, how many alleys had they turned through?
"Hm?"
Aiden rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had drunk too much.
"What."
Gone. He had rounded the bend exactly five seconds after the man — precisely. Yet every trace of the man had vanished without a whisper. And more than that — even the presence had scattered and dissolved like heat haze.
A secret passage? Some manner of magic? Or had the alcohol shrunk his brain?
—Crunch
As Aiden turned over the possibilities, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Footsteps that reached him suddenly from behind. A perfect match for those of the man called Jurgen.
He had been gotten from behind. And in a state of complete and total vulnerability at that.
Furthermore, this rippling sensation that made his very skin prickle was unmistakably…… Magic with a full charge loaded in its circuit.
He was already in a dead end. Whatever Aiden did, there would be no escaping the fate of having a hole blown clean through his body.
"Raise both hands and turn around slowly."
The moment Aiden heard the voice from behind him, he felt a terror greater than the time he had been cut off in the middle of a battlefield under a rain of artillery. Because it was a voice that was strangely, disturbingly familiar.
'Surely not, it can't be…….'
Aiden turned around slowly. And upon confirming the man pointing magic-charged fingers at him, his face crumpled all at once.
The face was different, but this voice and this build.
"Haaa……."
Could rotten luck really be this rotten?
There were exactly three things in the world he feared.
The first was running out of money. The second was crossing Her Majesty the Queen of Britannia.
And the one more terrifying than those two combined——
"Aiden, what are you doing out here?"
It was Hanbin, his former superior.