Episode 13
[ Yesterday. Various ingredients, alive. Olive. Fresh. Catch me if you can. ]
“The dish you made yesterday—the flavors of all the ingredients were alive. Especially the olives, they were so fresh that the sauce couldn’t cover them up, almost like they were saying ‘catch me if you can!’”
Staría had only wanted to compliment the chef’s cooking in detail. But because of the limitations of her word cards, her meaning ended up distorted.
The chef interpreted the feedback like this:
“So… you’d rather be eaten alive than live on food made from ingredients like this…?”
“So then the chef’s cooking makes you want to end your life?”
The butler piled on the insult, and the chef was deeply shaken. Even if their race treated insults like casual greetings, he still had his professional pride.
“Chef, are you all right? Can you even hold a ladle?”
“…Enio?”
“His mind’s gone, completely gone.”
In his poor condition, Taylor advised the chef to take a leave.
“In the East, do you know what they call this? ‘Falling into inner demons.’ If you don’t take care of it, you’ll go mad. So rest until you’ve recovered, understood?”
Unintentionally, Staría had left a blemish on the chef’s career. The servants’ already-low regard for her plummeted even further.
“Pretends to be innocent, but that human is no ordinary one.”
“Well, if the master picked her, she must have something.”
“Better watch out. One wrong move and we’ll end up dead.”
Unlike before, when they only avoided her discreetly, the staff now openly treated her as if she were invisible, making their dislike clear.
Each time, it made Staría feel dejected. But she never thought of giving up on befriending them.
Why keep trying even when she was being ignored?
Because she wanted to be able to tell Cassanna proudly when they met again—that she had stayed cheerful, healthy, and untroubled.
To make her words believable, she needed new friends she could introduce.
With her aphasia, claiming she had been “doing well” would sound like a lie. It would only cause her mother guilt. But if she could say, “Look, I made a new friend. We understand each other even without words,” then Cassanna would be reassured.
So, for her mother’s peace of mind, she had to keep trying.
‘She’s alive… right?’
Suddenly, fear seized her. Truthfully, Staría was terrified—terrified she might never see her mother again. Even though she was working so hard to have something to show her.
She worried a dozen times a day that her mother might already be gone, and then reassured herself again.
‘She’s safe. She’ll come for me. She has to.’
Slap! She smacked her own cheek and resolved to believe.
‘All right. Let’s try again.’
Wrapping herself in determination, she set out to find another person to befriend.
‘Huh?’
Shards of glass were scattered in the hallway—she hadn’t seen them earlier. It looked like a crystal vase had fallen and broken.
Staría crouched down and began picking up the shards.
“Ow.”
Even carefully, she pricked her finger on a sharp edge. A bead of blood formed as she raised her finger to her lips—but then a shadow fell across her head.
Looking up, she saw Maid 1. The leader among the maids, and the one she found most difficult to face. Her stern face was now frowning, which made Staría feel guilty even though she hadn’t done anything.
Did she think I broke it?
Flustered, Staría waved her hands and quickly assembled her cards:
[ I. break. not. Glass. dangerous. Clean up. ]
“I didn’t break it. It was already broken. I thought it was dangerous, so I was cleaning it up. Someone might step on it and get hurt.”
She had left words out in her rush, but it seemed her meaning got through.
“It’s you who got hurt, Lady Staría.”
[ Not hurt. ]
Hiding her injured finger behind her back, she forced a smile.
“Why not just ignore it? Why bother, only to spill your own blood?”
[ Worried. ]
“……”
Maid 1’s brow furrowed. Had she only made trouble for herself?
Even as Staría fretted, Maid 1 began to clear the shards.
“Ah! No—!”
A shrill cry burst from Staría. For some reason, the maid was sweeping the pieces aside with her bare hands. The glass bit into her palms. Just watching made Staría wince, but Maid 1 brushed her hands off indifferently.
“No, no, no!”
Staría seized her wrist and inspected it anxiously. Skin pierced by shards couldn’t possibly be intact.
Huff, huff—
“It’s fine.”
But a child who had fallen countless times knew the best cure for pain.
“Just trust me,” she seemed to say with a wink, then gently blew on the wounds.
Staría had worried she might be brushed off, but Maid 1 stayed still, allowing it.
[ Sister. mistake. same. ]
“Hehe, so even you make mistakes, Maid-sis? We’re the same. Pinky promise!”
Finding a common ground, Staría was overjoyed.
Cassio Empire.
The season of tea parties was approaching. On the surface, all seemed calm, but among the noble young ladies, fierce competition brewed. Whose garden one was invited to determined whether she would be part of the season’s “in crowd.”
Nancy, wearing a pink diamond brooch, sighed at her reflection in the mirror.
“How tragic—such a dazzling jewel, yet nowhere to show it off. The gem itself must be sad. Don’t you think so, Joshua?”
Joshua, who had been yawning in boredom, straightened.
“I beg your pardon, could you repeat that?”
“I said it’s sad I can’t show off the gift Lord Borhard gave me. It’s the season when ladies gather for tea, but why is our salon so quiet?”
“Well… His Highness placed a gag order regarding my lady…”
“Joshua, are you calling Nancy a country bumpkin?”
Cold sweat ran down Joshua’s back. He would rather hunt mutants on the battlefield than be stuck here, forced to “guard” this woman.
“The more you try to hide gossip, the more it spreads. Everyone already knows, don’t they? Nancy isn’t wrong, is she?”
“W-Well…”
“This won’t do. I must send flowers to the queen of society.”
“And who would that be…?”
“Who else? Lady Roxanne, Lord Borhard’s fiancée.”
Joshua’s jaw nearly dropped. Even a man who lived among soldiers knew—it was not normal for a mistress to send flowers to the wife.
“Are you planning to make her your sworn sister?”
“Wow, good idea! Since we serve the same man, we should get along. I think women being jealous and scheming is so childish.”
As if she had never sulked, Nancy began picking flowers.
“Dorishianshus would be perfect. Its meaning is ‘until death parts us.’ Isn’t it just like us sisters? Don’t you agree?”
“……”
Should he snap the bouquet in half? Or intercept it midway?
Joshua, hopeless at schemes, suddenly longed for Melgin, who must be trekking across borders with blistered feet.
Around noon, a report landed on Taylor’s desk. It was the result of an investigation by one of his men, an expert tracker, sent to the desert.
[ We found the area where the target was thought to have lived, but it was completely cleaned out. There is the scent of blood in the ground, yet no bodies no matter how deep we dug. We’ll expand the search, but it’s unlikely there are survivors. ]
Sua, with unmatched sense of smell, had written it. If he said there was no hope, there truly was none. Even if they continued, the outcome wouldn’t change.
The report also noted that there was no evidence of Zoroaster’s descendants.
Still, Taylor refused to give up until it was 100 percent certain.
He had once received a great favor from his elder brother, and he had vowed to repay it. Perhaps the buried promise would find its way to his brother’s descendants.
“…Should I tell her?”
The truth, after all, was often too cruel to spare anyone’s feelings.
