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The Kikimoras, who had received Kareem’s statement distorted through telepathy by the entire group, were in shock.

It wouldn’t have happened if the kitchen team had corrected the telepathy again, but it was already too late.

All the Kikimoras, with Nascha as the chief, rushed to the kitchen from the entire estate.

Chaos and commotion filled the air, mixed with crying and ravenous appetites.

With Catherine glaring at Kareem, questioning whether he would still be stubborn, Kareem had no choice but to take drastic measures.

He decided to humbly serve the Kikimoras, including preparing the meal Catherine would eat.

At least he managed to keep one promise.

“Kareem, my junior.”

“Forget that reckless statement you were about to make. Only in Fellow Mansion,” he replied.

“Tch.”

Of course, before that, he had to calm the other Kikimoras who had rushed in by making some almond chocolate.

Their appetite played a significant part in exacerbating the already chaotic situation.

Once their hunger was satisfied, the Kikimoras, who had previously been upset at only eating delicious food, were now content.

With Nascha leading the way, the other Kikimoras returned to their work, satisfied by the declaration of Kareem’s concession and the sweetness of Amadeus and the nuttiness of the almonds spreading in their mouths.

A short while later, Kareem ate the lunch prepared by the Kikimoras.

He could not deny it.

Kikimoras were, after all, house fairies.

A rich chicken cream soup, a bouillabaisse bursting with tangy flavor and a bouncy texture, a fried chicken that was crispy on the outside and moist on the inside, and barbecue ribs that were so tender the meat separated from the bones.

There were no dishes that were overcooked or undercooked; everything was crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside.

Most importantly, the umami that whetted the appetite was balanced in a golden ratio.

However, there was one point that was off.

The desserts were just a tad too sweet.

That didn’t mean they were bad.

Kikimora cake, layered with moist, fluffy cake and cream sweetened plentifully with honey to the point of nearing jelly.

And Zolloto, an overly sweet and sticky confection that was soaked in syrup and honey to the point of hardening on the outside, had a strangely castella-like flavor.

Both desserts made by the Kikimoras were delicious enough to threaten Mary’s position as the pinnacle of confections in Winterhome.

Still, they were indeed a bit too sweet.

If one were to compare it to the taste of America realized in another world, would that make sense?

Even Mary, who normally devoured desserts made of flour, milk, and butter, seemed overwhelmed by the sweetness and started to shudder as if she’d just seen something horrific.

Apart from that one detail, all the prepared dishes were excellent.

However, Kareem couldn’t shake the unease brought by the appearance of the Kikimoras.

Honestly, it felt unsettling to think of them as child laborers.

“Was the meal satisfactory?”

One of the attending Kikimoras used telekinesis to serve the Kikimora cake and Zolloto onto Kareem’s plate.

“It’s quite good, but the dessert feels oddly familiar,” he remarked.

“Kikimora cake and Zolloto. Both are desserts arranged according to the taste preferences of our new contractor comrade’s recipes,” she explained.

Indeed, the origins of both were clear.

The former was a crepe cake, and the latter was a castella.

“Honestly, it’s a bit too sweet to the point where it hurts my mouth, yet I keep reaching for more. It’s addictive.”

“Such high praise!”

Kareem spread a generous amount of cream on the dense, thick Zolloto and took a bite.

The overwhelming sweetness reached a limit and overflowed, causing his body to tremble involuntarily. It tasted like it would lead to diabetes if he ate more.

But the strange tanginess and unique nuttiness made it impossible to stop eating.

“We put mayonnaise in it!”

“It’s our Kikimora secret!”

Mayonnaise.

It sounded like a grotesque mixture, but still, he couldn’t stop himself.

Kareem had to admit it.

“It’s as tasty as what Mary made.”

“What did you just say?”

Mary, who was serving Catherine while also popping Zolloto and Kikimora cake into her mouth, shot him a threatening glare.

“I said it’s as tasty as what you made.”

“Kareem, my junior. I’ll overlook your other remarks, but I cannot let that one pass.”

“How about the Zolloto and Kikimora cake piled high on your plate that you can’t overlook?”

Indeed, Mary’s plate was filled with both desserts and whipped cream. She had eaten the most among the three.

Left with no retort, Mary dipped the Zolloto into milk and gulped it down.

“But you said you adapted my recipe?”

“Correct, future partner!”

Catherine felt a bit uneasy with the unfamiliar title.

For reasons unknown, it felt both strangely satisfying and unsatisfying.

The confused Kikimora, having poured dessert wine into a glass, pulled a hardcover book from her apron pocket.

Though it had an elegant texture, it was definitely not a book that belonged in a children’s apron pocket—a hardcover edition.

The title on its cover read “The Great Little Genius Chef Kareem’s Extraordinary and Surprising Recipe Collection.”

“Everyone in the group has it!”

With that, the Kikimoras rushed to pull out their books.

Different colors, shapes, and titles, yet one thing was common.

Every single one was a hardcover, and they all ended with Kareem’s recipes.

“Every time a new book is released, our contractor comrade gives us each a copy! We all study together!”

“New desserts! So sweet! We’re so happy!”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this cake; I’ve missed out on life!”

“Kikimora cake is the cake developed with our contractor comrade’s crepe cake!”

“I’ve studied hard, as our contractor comrade said!”

The Kikimoras serving in the kitchen shared their comments as they passed through. There were so many that the entire restaurant buzzed with their chatter.

“Where did all the copyrights go?”

“Copyright? That’s a strange word.”

“More than that, this is a bit overwhelming.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if it were someone else, but since they’re your house fairies, there’s only one solution.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.”

Catherine murmured softly.

“Get used to it.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, her words rang true.

Ultimately, their relationship with Kareem mirrored the relationship between Mary and Catherine.

However, Catherine could not change her relationship with Mary through tangible or intangible punishment.

No one was watching or judging, but honestly, she felt a twinge of guilt.

—

Kareem almost considered eating more Kikimora cake and Zolloto, but then he stopped. Catherine and Mary joined him.

The sensation of cutting through the Kikimora cake and Zolloto with a fork was soft and sticky.

Yet, the tastes and textures of the two desserts were completely opposite.

As the Kikimoras said, the start of Kikimora cake was a soft sponge cake inspired by crepe cake.

The flavorful layer just soaked up the syrup, given a creamy texture so rich that it felt almost nonexistent.

Meanwhile, the cream, transformed into a jelly-like state from honey, retained its thickness.

Kareem remembered having a snack that felt this way.

Not in this life, but in his past life.

At a discount store for foreign snacks, he had bought Twinkies.

A beloved snack of the American food culture that contained the essence and techniques behind why the obesity rates of Americans have skyrocketed.

Of course, they were not identical.

If Twinkies were cheap street vendor snacks, Kikimora cake was like a luxurious brand handbag.

Despite the intense taste and overwhelming sweetness on his tongue, the rich texture paired with the light cream and moist layer created a sensation that, while sticky, felt light.

In contrast, Zolloto was the complete opposite of Kikimora cake.

From start to finish, it was heavy in taste, texture, and feel.

Comparing it, the texture concentrated to the limits like custard cream was like a dense paste rather than a cake since it lost moisture.

Its softness and moisture were completely preserved by the crispy glaze solidified from sugar syrup and honey.

However, the density was so high that it wasn’t prominently featured.

Unlike castella, it definitely needed milk.

And yet, combined with all those elements, the sweetness shot straight to the edge of unbearable.

Vanilla flavor could not contain it.

Normally, too salty or sweet would be off-putting.

Both desserts couldn’t be explained just by honey and sugar.

Yet, his brain did not issue a stop command to his hands.

A sweetness that shouted, “I’m causing immediate high blood pressure!”

An instinctive, destructive sense of decadence stemming from flavors that seemed to induce diabetes.

Whether to be astonished by the fact that they shared two entire desserts among the three of them, or to feel it was barely enough for three.

Both Kareem and Catherine felt regret over the addictive aftertaste.

Even Mary acknowledged the flavor and burned with competitive spirit.

“In the end, you admitted it’s delicious, huh?”

“Shut up. Kareem, my junior knows nothing.”

However, the effects of the Kikimora cake and Zolloto left a lingering taste in their mouths.

His heart raced, and his hands trembled. It was all due to the sugar overload.

Because of that, Mary started bustling around to burn off the energy while tidying up.

Kareem and Catherine decided to take a stroll around the mansion.

“The Kikimoras are the main house fairies from the cold North of Europe.”

Catherine spoke as casually as ever.

Upon closer inspection, her eyelids and corners of her eyes were twitching.

“And the food of the northern continent of Europe has two characteristics.”

“It’s greasy and sweet, right?”

“Exactly. It’s excessively greasy and sweet to the point where it’s too much for people from other regions. Did you study a bit?”

Kareem shook his head, refuting Catherine’s response.

“There used to be a place called Russia in my past life, which had a similar vibe.”

Meaning it was common for the colder northern regions’ food culture.

They loved to eat mayonnaise and sour cream, and they adored sweet dishes.

The Kikimoras’ names sounded Slavic, indicating they hailed from similar parts of Europe.

“Now that I think about it, I realized when they put mayonnaise in the cake.”

Moreover, aside from the bouillabaisse, the dishes presented were all rich and greasy.

Icelanders also loved greasy and sweet food, but perhaps due to the scarcity of food, they preferred to eat more diverse dishes rather than focusing solely on high-fat or high-sugar foods.

“Just look at the first prince and princess.”

“Cold regions usually prefer greasy and sweet foods.”

Even the desert regions where the Kingdom of Adobice is located bore some resemblance.

When the climate is extreme, bodies crave high-calorie food to endure it. Both regions preferred high-fat and high-sugar diets.

And for the Kikimoras, who loved sweet desserts, the result was candies overflowing with honey and sugar, enough to make Catherine cringe at their sweetness.

“Huh, certainly. Walking helps it settle down a bit.”

“One thing is for sure.”

“What is it?”

“That the Kikimoras make desserts just as well as Mary.”

Catherine, walking next to him while leaning on her staff, nodded in agreement. Kareem felt the same. Mary likely felt the same too.

Honestly, if his body wasn’t trembling, he would have wanted to eat more.

“How can something so strong taste so addictive?”

“It’s terrifying, really. I wouldn’t dare to replicate it.”

“Best to eat it just once every time we come here.”

“Once a week, then?”

“More than that would be too much.”

If it were not for magic, it would be so calorie-dense that it would mock anyone who said they wouldn’t gain weight from it. It was hard to explain with just ordinary honey and sugar.

Catherine even felt a moment of unease, thinking that if she ate those as she normally would, she might break through the boundaries of magic.

“Oh no.”

Suddenly, Catherine, who had been walking beside him, stumbled a bit.

“Catherine?”

“My tremors just won’t settle down.”

“Your hands?”

“Mm.”

When she reached out her left hand, they clasped together.

A pressure-filled palm, the regular pulse felt through it. Catherine inadvertently turned her gaze away with a slightly awkward expression.

“I thought I controlled myself during lunch, but maybe I should have eaten less.”

“Maybe we ate too much in a short time,” he suggested.

“That would be correct.”

Catherine lifted her staff into the air and leaned against it.

A cool body temperature. This surprised Kareem a little.

“Are you feeling that hard?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Then I’ll gratefully accept this.”

“You little braggart.”

In reality, Catherine wasn’t feeling that hard.

Although she stumbled, the tremor had certainly subsided from earlier.

Catherine was simply using her weakness as an excuse to seek comfort.

And it was far more embarrassing than what Catherine might have thought.

After achieving considerable progress over two years of propping her head on his knee and sitting on his legs, she had never leaned on him using her weakness.

Thanks to that, for reasons different from before, his heart raced.

It was from the book borrowed from the Duchess, but now he wondered if he followed it blindly.

“Let’s sit here a bit longer before we go.”

“…Alright.”

Catherine sat on a bench in the garden, her head unintentionally resting on Kareem’s arm as she closed her eyes, pretending it was coincidental.

Oh dear.

“Are you being serious?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this more embarrassing than your usual head on my knee or sitting on my knees? Why?”

“Shut up.”

Catherine gave a small headbutt to the arm her head rested on.

It was meant to signal him to keep quiet.

Their hands remained locked together.

 

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