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Even if I didn’t want to, I sometimes had to participate in after-parties with superiors, partners, or subordinates once our schedules ended.

This was a fate that even the Guildmaster, Ulfred, could not escape.

It couldn’t be helped.

Not everything in this world operated rationally.

Sometimes, one had to resolve matters and build relationships in informal settings.

And like a sudden thunderbolt, Catherine and her group visited, leaving behind only the faint aroma of adventure as they departed like the wind.

Ulfred welcomed their departure in his heart.

He had never liked such gatherings even when he initially became Guildmaster.

Who likes to meet people whose mere presence makes one’s stomach churn and head hurt, all while wearing clothes that don’t fit?

No, it was extremely rare to find someone with whom he could comfortably share a drink or meal after stepping into this role.

In such circumstances, the VVIPs, who were the very embodiment of power and privilege, had left swiftly and without regret—how delightful!

Of course, he had accepted a biweekly request to procure Alraune stems, roots, and leaves, but that was hardly an issue.

The request was completed quickly and neatly.

During the renewal, he’d probably just see the representative for a moment.

But something lingered in the corners of his mind and memory.

Honestly, he wasn’t completely unaware of the reason.

Wandering aimlessly in his office, Ulfred briefly glanced at the tray he had carried from the reception room and placed on his desk.

A wooden cup marked with traces of light brown and black liquid.

A small jar containing cream, sugar, and milk.

And, above all, even though it had cooled down considerably, the kettle released the nostalgic aroma that seemed to drown the office in a musty scent of parchment and ink.

Yes, the nostalgia of memories.

The faint aroma of adventure that Ulfred had forgotten.

“Alraune’s Tear.”

Among countless monsters and beasts, the Alraune was quite a profitable monster for adventurers.

Its head and fruit had many uses, being materials for magical research and alchemy, and they were hunted and collected as soon as they were found.

As for the remaining byproducts, very few desired them, so they were mostly left to rot.

Though extremely rarely, there were requests for those, but they were quite scarce—so little that only two sacks had been gathered from the great Coldon.

Squeezing the leftover byproducts of Alraune like trash would surely make even Alraune weep.

“Hmm… Haa…”

Ulfred picked up the lukewarm kettle and gently pressed his nose against the spout, taking deep breaths in and out slowly.

At first, the piercingly intense aroma had diminished significantly, likely due to its lukewarm temperature.

What had been an aroma strong enough to faintly confuse itself with a burnt smell had weakened.

However, there was something about it; behind the intense scent of roasted beans was a sweet yet subtle fragrance reminiscent of well-dried applewood with each breath.

“I’ve certainly eaten my fair share of apples.”

Perhaps it was the fruit he had eaten most often before putting down roots in Coldon, lured by the previous Guildmaster’s blueprints.

Ulfred didn’t particularly like apples.

They were merely the most common fruit during his childhood, and as an adventurer, he had carried one or two, believing they were good for preventing scurvy.

Yes, the scent of apples.

This too was the fragrant memory of an adventure.

At least for Ulfred.

“…Karem.”

And Ulfred recalled Karem, the most famous little chef in Coldon, Iceland. No, now that he had grown, he was a young man, wasn’t he? He certainly had an exotic and fairly handsome appearance. It would be easy for the Chief Magic Consultant to fall in love with him based on that alone.

Anyway, to drink Alraune’s byproducts as a beverage instead of poison…

It was something Ulfred had never heard of, so he was certain it was a drink created by Karem.

That wasn’t entirely wrong.

At least in this world, Karem was the first.

In any case, Ulfred sat down in his chair, slowly savoring the bitter taste of the now colder Alraune’s Tear that had gained more of a murky flavor after adding a bit of cream and sugar.

“…Haa. This is my predicament.”

On his desk lay a considerable stack of work for the day. A sigh naturally escaped him, but he had to work. Piled up paperwork that had been temporarily set aside to deal with Catherine.

And in his line of sight were the two request letters from Catherine that had been just earlier.

The first one, stamped with a completion seal, and a regular contract requesting Alraune stems, roots, and leaves monthly.

Sipping the sweet flavor and aroma of the Alraune’s Tear latte, Ulfred slowly set the cup down and stroked his rugged chin with his wrinkled hands before pondering.

And his contemplation was brief.

That evening.

On the bulletin board of the first branch of the Coldon Adventurer Guild, two request letters for regular deliveries exuding a sweet and rich aroma were posted side by side.

*

*

*

As before, the paths and squares of the Coldon Inner Castle were quiet except for people shoveling snow. The party walked toward Winterhome at a slightly slower pace than before.

Karem felt that Catherine seemed somewhat joyful.

“Are you enjoying Alraune’s Tear that much?”

“Indeed.”

Catherine nodded nonchalantly, tapping the ground with the staff she retrieved from Mary’s possession.

“Of course I’m happy that I can finally throw that dreadful substitute into the trash.”

“Dreadful? That’s a harsh word.”

“Hah.”

Just then, as Catherine glared at Karem, she sharply turned her head away.

“Chicory root? Dandelion? Just try bringing that kind of filth to me one more time.”

Catherine seemed to have heard something she shouldn’t have, rubbing her ears beneath her robe’s hood.

“I’ll put a ban in the kitchen then.”

“Not that it was particularly… That long, hmm.”

The history of chicory root and dandelion coffee substitutes has indeed been quite extensive—over a hundred years.

During the war, when the supply of coffee was disrupted, those items were widely consumed as substitutes, and over time, they established themselves as healthy drinks. Of course, just like coffee substitutes, they have received terrible reviews for their taste both then and now.

“I don’t particularly like Alraune’s Tear either, but frankly speaking, compared to that dreadful substitute, Alraune’s Tear is salvation.”

For the guardian of flour and dairy products, the taste was quite deadly. Karem nodded sheepishly under Mary’s cold gaze.

“By the way, there’s something I need to clarify.”

“Where in what I just said?”

“The part about not particularly liking Alraune’s Tear?”

Mary scoffed at Karem’s absurd statement, adjusting her sack.

“It smells good, but what’s so great about something that’s just bitter?”

“However, the one that’s rich in cream and sugar—”

“What I drink is an entirely different kind of thing.”

Mary shook her head in disbelief, resembling a dwarf discussing beer in all seriousness.

“Think about it. While it’s still cream, if something is whipped, we call it whipped cream, and the essential ingredients for cookies include flour, milk, butter, and sugar; however, they often have different names just by their shape.”

Mary nodded with a calm expression that held all the seriousness of the world.

“Therefore, I strongly advocate that the Alraune’s Tear spiked with cream and sugar should rightly be given a different name.”

“…Hmm. Then let’s call it Cream Alraune’s Tear—”

“Stop your wretched naming right there.”

With a quick turn of her head, Mary’s eyes blazed with intensity.

“No, young lady. That name is truly unbearable.”

Catherine also shook her head in agreement.

“Cream-Alraune’s Tear? Is that a remnant from your past naming skills?”

“No, this term has just been the same even in my previous life.”

In Italy, where coffee is fiercely competed for, a cafe refers to coffee, and latte means milk. Though Mary drinks it with cream, at best, Cafe Latte becomes Cafe Crema.

Of course, this refers to a practice of adding cream to espresso.

“I can’t possibly allow such a dreadful name for my smooth and sweet drink.”

“I can’t particularly think of another name. So if you want to try making one yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

Mary seemed surprised by the unexpected suggestion, responding with a short, squeaky voice.

“No, Cream Alraune’s Tear with added sugar is what you drink the most. So Mary, how about you give it a name?”

“…A name made by myself.”

Karem’s light-hearted suggestion turned into a serious contemplation for Mary, who seemed to delve into deep thoughts, her expression becoming increasingly impassive.

It might seem excessive to take naming a mere coffee mix seriously, but it was indeed serious. A name is a symbol and proof of existence, possessing power in itself.

“I thought my naming skills had improved, but Cream Alraune’s Tear—”

“Hmm, hearing that repeatedly makes it seem more unsatisfactory.”

“Unsatisfactory? It’s the worst!”

Indeed, the inconsistency in the name made it seem unsuitable. Cream Alraune. In a world where there exists a monster called Cream Alraune, naming something made from it as Cream Alraune would be acceptable, but—

“It would be better to call it Alraune’s Tear with cream added. Didn’t you mention similar beverages existed in your past life?”

“Yes. Coffee. The taste is the same, but it wakes you up and has a tonic effect.”

“Is there none that he mainly drinks?”

There couldn’t possibly be none.

A rich brew of fine Alraune.

The deeply aromatic coffee is referred to as—

“Espresso. The coffee is brewed thickly. Add cream, and it’s called Cafe Crema.”

“Crema? Cream?”

I’ve thought this before, but strangely, the languages overlap.

Catherine’s expression hardened as she thought of this.

“Wait a minute, does the term Cafe actually mean—”

“Italian for coffee. In which case, it would relate to Servianus.”

Catherine’s hand pressed against her forehead conveyed that Cafe Crema and Cream Alraune’s Tear bore similar meanings.

“…I’ve decided.”

Meanwhile, in a moment she had never been so serious, Mary concluded her thoughts with a decision.

“I shall call it Brownie’s Joy.”

“Certainly.”

Alraune’s Tear, Brownie’s Joy.

It sounded far more plausible than whatever name they just concocted. Most importantly, there was consistency.

“Certainly? What does that mean?”

Mary seemed to have heard it differently, squinting her eyes.

“No. You named it well.”

“Something feels suspicious about this.”

“But if it’s Joy, it seems that it must contain cream, right?”

“Wouldn’t that be a given?”

Mary’s confidence was evident in her nodding demeanor.

“I’d acknowledge that Alraune’s Tear is indeed worthy of praise for its aroma. However, I can’t forgive its bitterness and murkiness.”

“You’ve enjoyed it when it was included in tiramisu, though.”

“That’s because of the exquisite harmony between its bitterness and murkiness.”

Indeed, it was due to that exquisite harmony. The layers, cream cheese, whipped cream, and the bitter, murky coffee—if either was insufficient or excessive, the flavor of tiramisu would be destroyed.

“An Alraune’s Tear that even a house fairy Brownie could rejoice in. Hence Brownie’s Joy.”

“Add sugar generously as well, would you?”

“Contractor. Isn’t it a case of, ‘the more, the better’?”

Catherine did not deny it. Karem felt the same.

After all, cream, milk, and sugar were added to coffee.

“Wouldn’t it be better to top it with whipped cream instead of fresh cream?”

“That’s truly a mad idea. Brownie’s Joy will henceforth come topped with whipped cream.”

No house fairy could refuse that.

 

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