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Territory

The sphere of activity established by all creatures endowed with a certain level of higher intelligence.

Humans form tribes, create villages, and build cities, ultimately establishing nations, just as animals do the same.

Even for herbivores that appear to wander from pasture to water source, a precise territory exists, and this applies equally to the carnivores that prey on them.

However, among some higher animals, there is a slightly different aspect where the activity range varies depending on gender.

For example, elephants.

At first glance, they seem to form groups, but this strictly applies only to females and their young, while male elephants act solitary.

They are accepted into the herd only once.

When the breeding season arrives.

At all other times, they are chased away by the dominant females.

And though this isn’t exactly the case for humans of different strains, it shows some similarities.

Not just luxury items like watches, but men are somewhat captivated by gigantic weapons and battleships clashing. Indeed, they find excitement in totally inefficient bipedal machines and combining robots, and women seem to be no different.

High-priced perfumes and cosmetics as adornment consumables.

Glamorous accessories, expensive brand products produced yearly, serve as luxuries.

Spicy and numbing dishes, topped with oil, served as brunch during late mornings or early afternoons.

And.

Desserts that send shivers through the teeth with their sweetness.

Of course, as times change, so do cultures.

Modern Earth sees the boundaries of tastes between women and men collapsing, but such a notion is still a distant prospect in Europa.

Even Iceland, which prioritizes ability over gender and bloodline, cannot escape this.

And naturally, dessert cafes are firmly the domain of women.

At least, that’s how Aindelf perceives it.

But what’s this?

“…Hey. Pointy ears.”

“What is it, Dwarf?”

“The place called a cafe…”

Aindelf scanned the surroundings with an expression of distaste and pressure.

Pastel decorations in bright colors like yellow, white, and pink.

The interior adorned with living flowers and magic tools, decorated like a beauty parlor.

The soft, sweet aroma in the air practically screamed “for women only.”

Aindelf whispered to himself.

“…Do men really come here frequently?”

“Why would bearded drunks be hanging out in a place like this?”

“Yeah. I really don’t want to agree with you on that, but what’s going on here?”

A gaggle of boys and girls, so full of energy they could chew through steel chains.

A woman anxiously shuffling her orders.

A dwarf shoveling cake into his mouth with bare hands.

Young lovers gazing at each other with honey-drenched eyes.

An old man hiding a pile of muscles beneath a fancy evening outfit.

Along with many others, men who seemed utterly out of place in a cafe were sitting together or solo.

By ratio, it was 6 to 4.

Klink repeatedly tapped the table with his fingers, nodding toward those who quite plainly didn’t fit the cafe vibe.

“Some of them are dressed quite elegantly, but you can’t fool my eyes. Some are adventurers, and it seems there’s even a knight over there?”

“Hmm? A knight? What in the world is a knight doing in a place like this?”

“Beats me.”

Klink shrugged his shoulders.

Instead, Jurin turned his head toward a comrade, sensing he might know the answer for some reason.

Jerika, who received the gaze, shrugged and subtly gestured to the waiter waiting nearby.

“Well, we can always just ask. Excuse me, waiter?”

“Ah, have you finalized your order, perhaps?”

“No, we finished ordering a little while ago.”

“Then, might you have any questions about our establishment?”

“The cafe’s vibe seems different from when we visited last time. Was there something going on?”

“Oh, that’s due to trends.”

The waiter’s face momentarily showed some discomfort, as if he had his own difficulties.

“More male customers have started coming in, drawn by a newfound interest in a spice called vanilla.”

“Vanilla? Never heard of it.”

“It hasn’t been long since the trend began. If you were in another region before, you might not know of it.”

Jerika began to understand a bit.

If they were speaking of timing and trends, it roughly made sense.

It hadn’t been long since they returned from their quest.

“But still, I can’t wrap my head around how these male mayflies came crawling into a place like this.”

Yet, that still didn’t explain the utterly imbalanced scenery within the cafe. Despite Jerika’s sudden blunt remark, the waiter maintained his calm demeanor with a smile.

However, he was somewhat put in a tough spot.

“Well, it’s a little inappropriate to bring this up in front of our female patrons—”

“Forget about these mayflies. Continue with what you were saying.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, um, vanilla has been said to be effective for nighttime—”

The waiter let slip an absurd comment.

Nighttime.

What a blunt statement it was.

“WHAT!? Hold on a second. Nighttime, you say?”

Jurin unintentionally raised his voice, but quickly hushed it in this pastel-infused atmosphere.

Not only him, but the other males in the party, Aindelf and Klink, also showed keen interest and excitement.

“Recently, vanilla was first unveiled at a gala in Winterhome. Furthermore, patrons who tasted it praised its effectiveness…”

Such rumors typically spread faster than the wind.

Of course, it hadn’t been long enough for word to spread outside of Coldon yet.

But within, there would no doubt be no one unaware of it.

Let alone the aphrodisiac qualities?

Shame couldn’t hold them back.

“Other rumors suggest that the most effective way to consume vanilla is with sugar and butter.”

“Is this what’s causing this spectacle?”

“I can’t speak to that, but I suspect the male patrons are quite interested in this sort of gossip. It’s a bit unfortunate for our existing female patrons, but more guests enjoying our establishment is a welcome issue.”

“I see. I’ve asked everything I’m curious about.”

“Then, I will take my leave.”

Jerika could only be shocked by the unexpected response.

Somehow, the cafe was exuding a different kind of sweet scent from last time.

‘Rather heavier than fruit, yet lighter than caramel, the source of this so-called trending vanilla smell, huh?’

“But what in the world are you guys doing right now?”

“We’re just upholding the decorum fit for the locale.”

Jurin stated firmly, sitting up straight.

Aindelf and Klink on either side were no different.

“Indeed, if it holds such significant effects, then I guess it’s a different matter.”

“Hah, lanky. Bearded types like me go crazy for food, eating six meals a day! Unlike you guys, I’ve loved dessert from the very start.”

“Well, well. We can’t all grasp other men’s hearts, can we?”

With a solemn expression, Jerika looked at the three men putting on a show that was painfully ludicrous.

Turning away, she gazed at the next table.

“Fanatic. Why are you so quiet?”

“Ah, uh, huh? Why’s the food taking so long?”

“…Were you spaced out?”

“No, frankly, it’s my first time in a place like this.”

A warm smile graced Lumiere’s usually icy face, tinged with a blush.

“I’ve only thought about coming to such a fluffy place. I guess I’m a little embarrassed.”

Which meant she was brimming with anticipation and couldn’t think of anything else.

Jerika couldn’t help but shut her eyes and lean her head back.

Compared to those male mayflies, what could be more wholesome?

Jerika felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Hmm? Why are you all of a sudden acting like that?”

“Nothing, Fanatic. I just hope you don’t get tainted by those dirty scum and remain just as you are.”

“I told you it’s not fanaticism…!”

Jerika scoffed, completely at a loss.

“With faith strong enough for even my deity to lend me strength for a moment, that’s fanaticism!”

“Lady Yustitia simply answered my earnest prayers…!”

“Semantics! The result remains the same, doesn’t it?”

Lumiere kept arguing, and Jerika decided to block out the noise.

Finally, the moment they had been waiting for arrived.

The cafe manager wheeled a wooden cart to their table.

Firstly, custard pudding and ice cream served in amounts sufficient for each person.

Then, egg tarts and a mountain of various pies.

Lastly, the manager set up a stand layered with castella, crepes, and brown-baked meringue cakes, bowed to the group, and took his leave.

“…Doesn’t this pointy-eared fellow know how expensive all these sweets are?”

“Quite a narrow-minded statement typical of a Dwarf.”

“How dare you call me narrow-minded!?”

“That’s only natural, isn’t it? Didn’t you lot request an inner castle tour from me? Did I ever look at you—”

The most raucous pair in the party soon began their vigorous exchange once again.

Yeah, just when it seemed like the mood was mellowing out, here we go again?

Jurin and Klink facepalmed and shook their heads.

At least the positive side was given the venue; their voices didn’t rise that high.

While others were preoccupied, Lumiere focused her spoon on a small bowl containing a round dessert she had never seen before.

She fixated on this thing called ice cream.

“Hm. Unlike those things, there’s no scent to it. Plus, it’s melting. Ice? No, it’s really soft.”

The sensation of sinking into it without any resistance from the spoon surprised Lumiere, and she turned her gaze to her companions.

“Whoa. How much is this little tart? One shilling? One silver coin? This silly little thing costs about the same as a few mugs of beer…!”

“It’s just normal here, isn’t it? I would say. But still, it’s quite something.”

“If we were to add up the price of all the desserts here, we could buy quite a few decent weapons. This is absolutely insane. This is madness.”

“Shut your mouths before I sew them shut.”

However, the men couldn’t hold back their shock.

The size may have been small, but the price was beyond imagination, sending a wave of terror and excitement among them.

Lumiere shelved her thought of asking something that didn’t seem helpful at all, instead choosing to eat the ice cream she had just spoken of.

“….!!!”

What in the world is this taste and texture?

A flavor and aroma, a tactile sensation she had never experienced before in her life.

Even the devout priestess Lumiere had occasionally indulged in cakes, pies, and tarts. After all, religion and festivals go hand in hand.

However, none of those she had ever eaten could compare to ice cream.

It was rougher than custard yet smoother than pristine snow.

A dense and rich flavor flooded her mouth.

And that sweet aroma.

As the cold ice cream melted in her mouth, the explosion of fragrance wafted in a heavier presence than fresh fruit but endlessly lighter than sugar.

It matched the elegance of sweetness perfectly.

One would think a swarm of bees might come buzzing around.

To put it in metaphor, it was as if the aroma of unprocessed sugar itself.

Lumiere could only describe it with her inadequate vocabulary like that.

Clatter.

‘Did I already finish it?’

No, that wasn’t it.

The pure and harmonious sound that was utterly discordant with the earlier quarrel drew the party’s gaze towards Lumiere.

Suddenly feeling shy, she brusquely placed her spoon down.

“W-What is it? Why are you all staring at me like that?”

“Suddenly feels like this is all so foolish.”

Aindelf, who had been most passionately arguing a moment ago, sighed deeply.

“Yeah, sure, some places charge a kings’ ransom for large steaks and wines. If this is a normal place, it’s somewhat reasonable.”

“Not to mention it’s the latest trend sweeping all over Coldon?”

“Especially men and women alike.”

“If it’s trending in Coldon, autumn is certain, but it’ll spread throughout Iceland like wildfire.”

Before Lumiere could say a word, the men began to dig into the well-arranged desserts amicably. After all, noble folk claimed they possessed health benefits.

“W-Who do they think they are, calling me foolish for being lost in their antics? Do they even understand? What have I done?”

“Our naive fanatic.”

“Jerika?”

“Please stay just as you are among these filthy scum.”

“Jerika!?”

The only sane one in their group (though no one would admit it).

Jerika prayed sincerely to the world tree and served herself some crepe cake.

Then suddenly, she was hit by a question.

“Hey. Waiter. I’m curious about something.”

“What is it, dear customer?”

“What exactly is this spice called vanilla? What’s it made from?”

“Ooh.”

At that moment, the waiter began to desperately ponder how to escape this query.

 

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