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Ice Cream and Egg Tart.

A combination of two different desserts.

Catherine’s suggestion wasn’t particularly unusual.

Especially since adding something to ice cream was quite common in my previous life.

Cold ice cream poured over with hot espresso, known as affogato.

Parfaits topped with an assortment of snacks, fresh fruits, preserved fruits, and whipped cream.

Ice cream sandwiches, tucked between two biscuits, cookies, or slices of bread.

Moreover, there was also a generic term used for desserts served with ice cream, without a specific menu name for it, known as à la mode.

I had completely forgotten about the insane combo of pairing ice cream with desserts, which was so common in my past life.

Seeing as I had drawn my sword, I might as well slice some radishes.

Karem promptly placed a still-steaming egg tart on a plate, despite it cooling slightly.

Then he quickly shaped the ice cream into a slightly smaller circle.

He carefully placed it on the indented filling of the tart.

Now, with the hot egg tart and cold vanilla ice cream, the two contrasting temperatures began to meet, causing the ice cream in direct contact with the tart to rapidly melt.

The melted ice cream pooled where it touched the tart.

It looked as if it would flow off any moment, slowly trickling down the tart’s crust.

That melted ice cream, absorbed into the tart crust, eventually reached the bottom of the plate, forming little puddles.

This all happened in a matter of seconds.

Yet, it was plenty of time for Catherine, a woman in love with desserts, to come back to her senses.

Sensing her employer’s burning desire, Karem quickly brought a small spoon to the egg tart à la mode.

The densely frozen ice cream, kissed by the tart’s heat in that brief moment, cut through smoothly like whipped cream, and the filling below was no exception, as was the tart crust.

As the spoon approached her, Catherine’s well-trained nose detected a different nuance than before.

Typically, smells are suppressed and activated according to temperature.

This principle naturally applied to the simple harmony of egg tart and ice cream as well.

Like flowers blooming in winter, about to wilt in spring, the sweet vanilla aroma gradually grew closer.

Unlike the volatile scent of freshly baked butter from the oven, a gentle fragrance wrapped around her senses.

…gulp.

Her sight and smell were thoroughly satisfied.

Now, it was time for taste, and then feel.

Hmmm. Catherine placed the egg tart à la mode into her mouth.

And indeed, the harmony of the two desserts tasted just as Catherine had anticipated.

The still-hot egg tart and the cold ice cream.

The smooth texture felt completely different compared to the egg tarts she usually had, caught between two opposing temperatures.

The softly melting ice cream, abundantly present, crumbled away like a sandcastle touched by the waves against the butter-scented tart crust.

The revealed, creamy custard filling of the egg tart was now infiltrated by the melted ice cream, adding a smooth sensation and flavor with every touch of her tongue.

And now, the soon-to-be-melted cold ice cream accompanied her, as the gentle taste and the faint vanilla aroma lingered, repeating the cycle.

The process continued until the contents vanished from her mouth.

“Wow, is eating the two together really that delicious?”

Gordon scooped up a generous helping of ice cream and licked his spoon.

“Oh, by the way, this ice cream is quite good.”

“Yeah. Speaking of, no need for explanations. Mercenary, try it yourself and give us your feedback. But first, one more.”

Catherine tapped her fingers lightly on the table, urging him on.

“Gordon, hold on. Let me-”

“It’s not that hard, I’ll do it myself. You keep working.”

Gordon scooped up a hefty amount of ice cream, spreading it over the egg tart like he was applying jam, pressing it down.

That pressure cracked the tart crust.

But Gordon didn’t mind, shoving it all into his mouth.

Crunch crunch crunch.

To be honest, it was naturally delicious.

The sweet, intense yet subtle aroma of vanilla from the Grizzly Beaver perfectly complemented the egg tart.

The ice cream, made with a generous amount of cream, was the same.

The luxurious and extravagantly wasteful product of magically frozen cream was something Gordon had never tasted before.

That made him even fonder of it.

“But it doesn’t seem that dramatically flavorful.”

However, if you’re eating together, why not?

Gordon pondered, a bit perplexed.

“It might be better to pair a dessert with a hint of vanilla with something else, rather than another vanilla-flavored dessert. That sounds like a decent idea.”

“Like an apple pie stuffed with loads of cinnamon?”

“Oh, yes. It should ideally be a tart with slightly undercooked, tangy apples.”

“Sweet and sour. Adding the texture of pie and apple would definitely make it better.”

Karem quickly prepared another à la mode for Catherine, who had finished one.

Gordon’s suggestion was quite valid.

While Catherine savored the flavor, Karem swiftly popped an egg tart into his mouth.

‘Mmm, it tastes okay…’

Strictly speaking, it was a failure.

The egg tart Karem had initially planned was Portuguese-style.

And a Portuguese-style egg tart should fundamentally come with a crispy pastry shell.

Yet, despite his increased baking skills over the years, somehow, it had turned out to be a moist cookie or a kneaded shortcake-like texture instead of the flaky pastry.

Certainly, he had improved his baking skills from back in the day, but pastries were still a struggle for Karem.

While there was some crispness, it was merely a fleeting moment.

In other words, it leaned more toward softness.

In simpler terms, there was a lack of texture.

In that scenario, Gordon’s comments implied that the sweet and soft sweetness was a duet leading to a bland taste.

More flavors should pull out the sweetness.

In short, a sour and bitter hint with textured sensations would’ve been nice.

“Well, this is the only snack to have during this time, so we’ll just have to wait for the next opportunity.”

“That’s a bit disappointing, isn’t it?”

“No, I mean, baking isn’t easy, you know. Pastries are the same.”

“Huh? That’s quite different from the rumors I’ve heard.”

“Yeah? What do you mean by rumors?”

Karem, surprised and puzzled, questioned Gordon right back.

And Gordon began to share the rumors he had quietly heard in Blackwood Village.

“A genius chef on par with the head chef of Winterhome.”

“A boy who extracts toxins for culinary use, and delights in others’ suffering.”

“Even the delegate of the god Adobice was left astonished and clinging to his trousers—”

“Woooaahhhh.”

Karem’s face went pale upon hearing that.

Well, if one were to break it down, none of those statements were undoubtedly wrong.

He had maintained exchanges with the head chef Zigmeser, receiving equal treatment among the chefs, and the fire witch finger-related stories were also factual.

Plus, there were indeed a few who had witnessed Nepanek, the delegate of Adobice, shamelessly cling onto him asking how much they needed to pay to hire him.

Practically everyone from the welcome party was present to see that.

But somewhere along the lines, some parts of the story got exaggerated, didn’t they?

Furthermore, for someone to find joy in others’ suffering, where could such a rumor have emerged?

Of course, Karem had a knack for downplaying his achievements, calling himself a prodigy who masked his mismatched abilities and outdated recipes, despite how embarrassing it was to admit.

But…

This time, it was unbearable.

If it was simply teasing, he could ignore it.

Yet Gordon’s words held more genuine admiration than mockery, making it hard for Karem to brush it off.

He buried his face in his hands.

“Ughhh.”

“Hmm, little one. There’s no need to worry so much.”

Catherine patted Karem’s shoulder, wearing a smile of someone who seemed to understand his feelings, laughing warmly.

“That rumor is probably going to last for a few years at least, so brace yourself. I can assure you that from experience.”

“That’s not comforting at all!”

“Oh, that’s a rather accurate statement.”

“Yes?”

“What you just said wasn’t comforting at all.”

Karem lifted his head from the palm of his hands.

Upon closer inspection, Catherine’s smile and gaze reflected not that of a wise observer, but rather of someone who had endured similar experiences.

“Ordinary people tend to boast about such achievements. You, little one, seem to have feelings quite similar to mine.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Well, who knows?”

Catherine shrugged her shoulders while accepting the à la mode Karem offered.

“If you share my kind of emotions, then look forward to the future.”

“Uh, that doesn’t sound particularly good.”

“From now on, you’ll be on the receiving end of rumors like this, too.”

“What? Me? Why?”

“Hah. Hey, mercenary.”

Catherine called out to Gordon, who was busy spreading ice cream on a tart.

“How long has it been since you left Borderster and came up to Iceland?”

“Hmm. I haven’t thought deeply about it. Probably about a month?”

“And when did you hear about the little one’s rumors?”

“Since I started putting in a bit of effort around town; it became pretty obvious.”

Gordon made a casual look around the tart before popping a piece into his mouth.

“Even with just that much, while people tend to exaggerate, I knew at least three things—”

“Aah, don’t bother saying it. Sigh.”

Karem had somewhat expected this sort of situation.

However, to think the rumors had spread this far…

But that’s how life can be; people only know one thing and miss the other.

People are thirsty for information, even if they don’t know the name of the blacksmith in the next village, they might know of the lord’s lower half.

Particularly, since having easy access to information was a boon, the thirst for new information was only magnified.

Naturally, those who wouldn’t know Karem’s name certainly would’ve heard exaggerated or biased narratives of his achievements at least once, considering the culinary culture shift above the middle class in Iceland.

The fire witch finger spread, and that too was bound to arrive shortly afterward.

If Karem had ventured out of the house more often, he would’ve picked up on it immediately.

“Aah, whatever will be, will be.”

“Oh, that’s a nostalgic reaction.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“When I first heard praise for my accomplishments, my reaction was precisely like that.”

Catherine seemed to recall memories long gone, a wistful grin escaping her.

But the more she thought about it, the more the heat seemed to rise, and she began to frown slightly.

“Hey, little one. Why are you quiet?”

“Uh, so suddenly?”

“This time, just the tart.”

But the one at fault had long since vanished.

Catherine, channeling her pent-up frustration, hurried Karem.

“As for Karem, he’s intriguing indeed. Normally, achievements get praised, and people would gladly celebrate them, but this guy’s oddly shy about it—”

“Shut it!”

Just at that moment, Catherine angrily shifted the temper she had lobbied against Karem over to Gordon, kicking his calves beneath the table.

“Oh, so you’re really upset, huh?”

A few moments of quiet allowed Karem to take a generous bite from his egg tart.

If she were truly mad, she would’ve hurled magic at him like she did with Olivier.

Catherine’s reaction stemmed from a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness.

Indeed, over the last winter, she often kicked Gordon’s shins like this.

In fact, Karem thought it was somewhat fortuitous.

“Really, why are you so embarrassed about it? Wiping out a deader troll named ‘Seaweed Beard’ should get some applause, don’t you think—”

“I clearly said, noisy!”

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Seizing the opportunity, Karem shoved the remaining tart into his mouth while scooping more ice cream.

Enjoying the meal, he savored the playful commotion between Catherine and Gordon.

Currently, Catherine was the one on the offensive, while Gordon was on the back foot.

So it was none of his concern.

And merely watching others bicker was fun in itself.

On top of that, he could finally relax and enjoy his snack.

 

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