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As soon as Catherine and Gordon began their meal, Karem discreetly pulled one of the empty plates toward himself, scooped up some pasta, and generously slathered it with meat sauce.

Normally, he would have eaten after Catherine and the guest were done.

Karem would often have had dinner with Mary, except when Catherine visited the kitchen or when she was out and about.

In other words, on a typical day, he would have observed Catherine and Gordon’s meal and fulfilled the chef’s heart.

With a solemn motion, Karem filled his plate with meat sauce, ladling out not three, but four scoops—as if he were serving others.

He pressed the pasta down to make room, ladling four times.

This time, even Karem found it hard to resist.

The sauce was nearly a meat stew, with more meat than sauce.

A symbol of effort that required time and resolve.

A true meat sauce that tugged at a man’s heartstrings.

Ragu was a dream for Karem as well.

Of course, he had tasted it in a previous life, but that had only been once.

He wanted to eat it regularly, yet circumstances didn’t allow it.

Even then, the amount of ragu that topped the pasta was just a ladle’s worth.

No, Karem understood why he was only given one ladle of ragu.

The moisture had been boiled away to the limit, so beyond that, it would have tasted nothing but saltiness.

After all, it wasn’t something meant to be consumed in heaps, as it was a type of sauce.

It’s strange enough to slather on sauces like ketchup or mayonnaise indiscriminately.

Aside from that, there were practical matters like costs, profitability, and labor expenses.

But understanding it with his head didn’t mean he could grasp it with his heart.

So, he made it.

A ragu with more meat than sauce.

Adjusted so he could scoop it without restraint.

With a generous topping of finely grated cheese, of course.

In his heart, Karem wanted to scoop up the sauce like a chili lover and devour it, but the most delicious food is meant to be enjoyed last.

The fact that he scooped one more ladle than others was his insignificant but vile desire.

Thanks to that, he held on to the fraying thread of reason.

After all, it was essential to eat the pasta first, just as he did for Catherine and Gordon. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being scrutinized.

“Huuuh. My heart is racing.”

As he merely swirled it in his mouth, no one could see Karem’s emotional expression. Actually, it would be more accurate to say no one noticed.

Catherine was savoring the taste, overcoming the boundary of excellent flavor and unimpressive appearance, while Mary attended to her, and Gordon was eating pasta, exclaiming “Mmm, oh, ah!” just like Karem.

Turning his gaze back, Karem, filled with anticipation, moved his shaking fork to cut through the mountain of fluffy snow-like cheese.

As he sliced through the white peaks, the bubbling, red ragu sauce revealed itself, appearing as a molten lava amidst a snowy mountain.

But soon enough, the snowy summit crumbled sorrowfully in front of his appetite.

Carefully mixing the overflowing cheese and sauce to avoid spilling over, he began to blend them together.

The ragu sauce, which was visible like magma between the layers, started to lose moisture dramatically as it mingled with the pasta and cheese, and at the same time, the cheese began to turn red.

The bright yellow pasta soaked up the sauce through the cheese, taking on an orange hue reminiscent of twilight.

The initial appearance vanished without a trace, leaving a tragic sight.

Ample shredded meat was visible amidst the broad pappardelle pasta.

Karem could no longer hold back.

He devoured the ragu in one bite, enveloping his pasta.

What he felt first was the nutty, rich flavor of well-seared beef, and the tangy and sweet notes of the salty ragu sauce.

It wasn’t just a raw sweet taste made by adding honey and sugar.

Carrots and onions had been sautéed and simmered into the sauce until there was no form left.

Thanks to that, no matter how much he ate, he felt no fatigue, but rather a soft and luxurious taste that accentuated the flavor and aroma of the sauce danced on his tongue.

Sourness, sweetness, saltiness.

Around these three pillars, a symphony of diverse vegetable flavors merged with the gentle and warm smell of wheat, enveloped by the subtle aroma of mushrooms, soaked his mouth.

Naturally, as he moved his teeth, the intense smell of wheat that had been trapped in the pasta broke free from its delicate veil and melded with the sauce, allowing him to naturally savor the primary essence of the ragu sauce’s meat.

Of course, there was no juiciness to the meat.

It had been sautéed, driving out moisture to the limit.

The remaining juices and moisture had long since dissolved into the sauce.

But, you gain one thing when you lose another.

Even if there was no juiciness, the meat was still meat.

Each time it crumbled as he chewed, the well-seared beef delicately released its flavor into Karem’s mouth, accompanied by the subtle aroma of the Akusare Mushroom.

The intermittent, unique scent of Parmesan cheese and the pleasantly bitter undertones washed over his tongue, repeating the most delicious moments of pasta and sauce.

Truly a taste he wanted to chew forever.

But every story must eventually come to an end.

Karem felt a deep sense of regret but swallowed lightly.

Snap – chomp chomp, mmm!

“Whoa. How much chewing is there to do?”

As Gordon snapped back to reality, leaving a few strands of pasta, he looked at Karem, who had begun to gorge himself, with worry. Karem was eating with such passion.

“Hey, hey. You might choke like that.”

“It seems I’m so focused that I can’t hear what’s around me.”

“Has Karem always eaten like this?”

“I’ve never seen him eat with such fervor. Geez. Eat slowly and cleanly. What’s the rush?”

Catherine, taking a bite of pasta, turned to Mary as if to say, “Is that the kind of thing you should be saying?”

Mary, who would flip out at the sight of milk, cream, butter, or bread, seemed an odd one to comment on such things.

Mary, maintaining her usual expressionless demeanor, pulled a bowl containing untouched pickled turnips closer, ignoring the gazes directed her way.

“Is anyone interested in pickles?”

At that, Catherine raised her finger as if she had been waiting.

“Just as my mouth is feeling rich and heavy. Perfect timing. It tastes good, but it feels a bit too meaty. Besides, lacking moisture makes it a bit dry.”

“Excuse me? What did you say?”

Gordon gasped, staring at Catherine in disbelief.

“Sir Mage, did you just say that this nearly perfect pasta, which is practically a compacted, tiny steak, is rich and heavy?”

“No, it tastes good. It’s definitely tasty! Hey! Why are you looking at me like that!?”

Mary quickly turned her head away from Catherine’s sharp comment, but her expressionless face couldn’t hide her flustered reaction.

And rightly so. The contractor just called her junior’s cooking? Heavy and thick?

Mary, who hadn’t done anything, muttered with a fist clenched as if she had accomplished something.

“I must… once Karem comes to his senses, I’ll definitely…!”

“Hey! You’re my servant! You should listen to my words!”

“I apologize. I got a bit too carried away after hearing such not at all pleasing news. Yes. I’m, after all, a perfect house fairy.”

“Which country’s servant grabs onto the words of their master like that?!”

“I’ll take care of the pickles.”

“Hey, you’re dodging the issue!”

“I’ll take care of the pickles.”

The squabble over the contractors’ words ended with Catherine furious, chasing Mary off to fetch wine instead.

“But really, you’re not saying it’s bad, right?”

“No, it’s definitely good. The harmony of various ingredients, the flavor of well-seared meat, and the blend with the pasta. But it’s just too meaty. And heavy.”

“I actually find this just right. Hmph.”

“If the mushroom’s aroma is there but doesn’t taste like anything, then it definitely seems to be tossed with Akusare Mushroom oil.”

“That’s the one grown in the mages’ estate, right?”

“Well, technically, it belongs to the estate of the tower.”

Catherine waved her hand, dismissing the importance of that.

“The point is, with such heavy, rich sauce, it’s even richer with oil.”

Upon hearing that, Gordon couldn’t help but let out a chuckle this time, genuinely.

“It doesn’t seem fitting for someone who gobbles down a cake with the same weight as flour and eats a few egg tarts on the side to comment on flavor.”

“Strictly speaking, the richness of a staple food and the richness of dessert eaten afterward are different matters.”

“Both are equally rich, aren’t they?”

“A man wouldn’t understand this.”

Though Gordon was dumbfounded, Catherine crossed her arms and turned her head away, as if no rebuttal was allowed.

Though it sounded like an excuse, the guest, Gordon, decided not to put the host in a difficult position. As proof, he showed he understood by spreading his hands toward Catherine.

Knock knock knock—

“I’ll be entering.”

Mary returned, opening the office door, holding a bottle of wine and three glasses.

“I’ve brought red wine that pairs well with bold flavors and rich meat.”

“From which town?”

“Bersengzeto.”

Pop—

As Karem, his soul captivated by the pasta, found clarity in the bittersweet, strong smell of grapes, Gordon asked while receiving a cup of wine from Mary.

“Oh, you have your wits about you now?”

“Wits? About what?”

“How could you have been so engrossed in eating to the point you hesitated asking for more?”

“Especially while ignoring your host’s invitation to share or eat afterward.”

“Well, what would you think if a raspberry jam doughnut was stuffed with whipped cream right in front of you?”

“Is that even a question? Of course, I’d beg the contractor to let me have some.”

“Begging, is it?”

Whether Gordon found it absurd or not, Mary remained serious.

Catherine nodded, acknowledging that it was just how he was.

“I was in a case where I couldn’t resist and succumbed to temptation.”

“Sounds like a lack of self-control, doesn’t it?”

“But I’m only 11 years old.”

“I can’t shake the feeling you don’t seem like 11.”

“Gordon. How about another serving?”

Of course. Going off track, Karem filled Gordon’s plate with pasta, heaping on meat sauce, and generously topped it off with grated cheese before doing the same for himself.

While the office was once bustling as Karem devoured his food, as the wine flowed, a different appreciation for the taste of pasta filled the room, with only the sounds of cutlery clinking echoing through.

Having started to fill up, Gordon began to entertain other thoughts.

‘By the way, I need to do something before spring arrives.’

It had already been a few days since he had leaned on Catherine.

During this time, Gordon hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long while.

He hadn’t needed to clean his own room, and thanks to the friendship he shared with Catherine and Karem, every meal was a delight.

Of course, the lavishness of the room and culinary extravagance was rare, but there were times in the continent when he had been hosted even more lavishly.

But Gordon had never felt this completely at ease in his mind.

However, as his rest stretched on longer, a vague, indescribable sense of unease began to rise from somewhere deep within Gordon’s heart.

He recognized this feeling he hadn’t felt in a while.

It was the feeling of being indebted.

Having taken breaks before when his journey hit a wall, here he was, feeling a debt for having only stayed a few days. He felt at ease with the two, didn’t he? Yet the happenings in Gordon’s heart were a reality.

“Did you forget something?”

“Eh? All of a sudden?”

“Don’t tap your dish as you chew with that uneasy face while eating.”

Oops. He slipped into thought without realizing.

“I feel discomfort from just lying around for days.”

To put it plainly, it was embarrassing, so Gordon mumbled through it.

Catherine nodded as if she understood.

Though he had beaten around the bush, the essence was that he felt fidgety.

“Well, it’s true it would be uncomfortable for a Swordmaster like you to just stay still.”

“In that sense, what should I do?”

“Well, I don’t know. You could ask me, too…?”

Karem scratched his head absentmindedly.

His only tasks were cooking and ordering supplies from the warehouse.

What could a Swordmaster-level baron like him possibly do?

“Well, what about giving swordsmanship lessons to Godwin?”

Catherine suggested while washing the grease off her palate with wine.

“I heard he wants to slim down quickly so he could eat freely, which means he’s looking into additional exercise.”

“Swordsmanship lessons? Godwin?”

“Right. The lord’s first son. The Duke’s heir.”

“Hmm. It wasn’t suggested from their side. Just throwing it out there feels a bit…”

“Come on. Who? You think the proposal is from you?”

Catherine waved her hand dismissively, as if finding it absurd.

“Just explain plainly that you’re feeling restless and you have too much time on your hands, then offer some swordsmanship practice to the prince. Nothing more than that.”

“Just because I feel restless, throwing out a feeler seems a bit—”

“You really think a Swordmaster would offer a lesson and Godwin would refuse?”

“Yeah, I guess so?”

Karem, who had quietly listened, asked while scraping his plate clean.

“Shouldn’t we first check if the First Prince already has a sparring partner?”

Ah.

The two had both overlooked the most important fact and sighed softly.

“Well, let’s finish eating first and then check.”

“Shall I get another bowl?”

Gordon answered by extending his plate.

 

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