12 — Chapter 12

“Hey, listen. Elma.”

Juliana and the servants had dispersed, their stomachs completely satisfied. As Elma tidied up the cooking counter with Irene’s assistance, Georg—who had finished cleaning his own station first—approached her.

“About… yesterday. For yelling at you… I am, sorry.”

Since he was offering an unfamiliar apology in an already unfamiliar tongue, his speech came out completely disjointed.

Elma, however, didn’t seem to mind. Her hands moved fluidly as she worked.

“No. I should be the one to apologize for carelessly invading the Head Chef’s domain,” she replied flatly.

“No, if we are saying that, then I, who allowed the intrusion into my territory, am at fault. I should have noticed at that point, and I should have scolded myself.”

If Georg had properly maintained control over the kitchen, this situation wouldn’t have occurred in the first place.

In lieu of a proper apology, he told her she could use the kitchen whenever he was around. However, Elma seemed more satisfied with his declaration that “From now on, I will keep the kitchen under control” than she did with his exceptional offer.

Though it was hard to tell for sure because of her glasses.

“I think that is wonderful. They say that in a workplace with discipline and cooperation, misconduct is less likely to occur. With this, the risk of poisoning within the Royal Castle will be reduced to the absolute minimum.”

“Huh…?”

Elma understood that her “unusual” actions—which she committed from time to time (she thought)—were placing a burden on Lucas’s life and stomach.

If she could repay her debt to the Prince in even the smallest way like this, it was a very good thing.

To return a favor received.

It was perfectly proper, an ordinary thing to do.

Despite her deadpan expression, Elma was quite pleased with herself.

It was Georg who was troubled by Elma’s tendency to reach conclusions all on her own.

He couldn’t read this maid’s thoughts.

In fact, now that he was thinking about it calmly, his understanding couldn’t keep up with anything she did.

Recalling that he hadn’t yet commented on her overwhelming skill, Georg mumbled a bit, clumsily squeezing out a compliment.

“That… you were impressive. Honestly, I was… moved.”

“I am humbled to receive such undeserved praise.”

“No, it’s the truth. The quality of the sandwiches, yes, but even more so, that knife work, the way you handled the oil… Honestly, I thought my jaw would fall off several times. No, it already started when that giant tuna appeared.”

Prince Lucas had praised Georg’s concentration, but in any other situation, even he would have been knocked off his feet.

That was just how abnormal the scene had been.

“You… where on earth did you acquire such techniques?”

“Such techniques… you say?”

“I mean… catching that giant tuna, butchering it, frying it, stuffing it. Those kinds of techniques. Honestly… I thought you were using Holy Power, or if not that, maybe some kind of lost Demonic Power.”

Holy Power was a force that only high-ranking mentors of the Church could wield, granted to them through the grace of God.

And Demonic Power was a force said to be possessed only by the demons who once sowed calamity across this continent—a power believed to have been lost with their extinction.

While Demonic Power was a popular subject in operas and novels, no one in this day and age actually believed in such things.

Georges, wondering about her background since she hadn’t even attended school, pressed for an answer.

“Eh…?”

Elma tilted her head, looking troubled.

“Observing a tuna while raising it, and eventually catching it to eat—isn’t that just a part of food education found in any household?”

“…Was your family a fishing family, or something?”

“No. Among the subjects of our food education, the only marine life included were tuna and Krakens, so I don’t believe we were fishermen.”

“A Kraken?! You mean the same Kraken that supposedly takes ten high-ranking mentors just to take down?!”

Georges gasped, reflexively slipping back into his native tongue.

Even Irene, who had been eavesdropping nearby, accidentally cried out in surprise. But as she watched Elma tilt her head even further, wondering, “Take down…?”, she realized what was happening.

She knew this pattern. That was coming.

“A Kraken is just a type of octopus that you can catch like crazy every summer, isn’t it? Could it be… people in the outside world can’t even butcher something like a Kraken? Even a Head Chef?”

“…Pardon?”

The fierce-looking chef stood there with his mouth agape.

He froze with a strange expression for about five seconds before finally remembering to breathe again. Then, looking a bit disgruntled, he gave Elma a light swat on the head.

“Good grief… Luten jokes are so hard to understand.”

“Eh.”

Elma and Irene’s voices overlapped in a confused murmur.

However, thanks to that misunderstanding, it seemed the mental peace of Georges and the Royal Castle was preserved for another day.