Chapter 42
42. The Lady of the House2022.01.23.
The kitchen of Julius Mansion. The head chef, busily chopping away, was utterly baffled by the sudden question. A dish to confirm if someone had a mushroom allergy?
“Of course it’d be a mushroom dish?”
“Ah, really?”
The head chef was flabbergasted. He was swamped as it was—what was this, holding up the banquet head chef right now? The head chef’s voice sharpened, knife in hand.
“Do you need to actually cook it? Just feed them mushrooms and see. Or hell, go ask them directly if they’re allergic. What, does someone have a mushroom allergy or something?”
The cook’s shoulders hunched.
“I don’t know. They didn’t say. They just told me to prepare something like that.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Hurst.”
Damn. He couldn’t ignore her. Irritation flickered in the head chef’s bulging eyes. The head maid and head chef were always locked in a power struggle for the master’s favor and authority—the top servants in the mansion. The head chef was no pushover himself, but he couldn’t disregard Olga Hurst, who wielded the marchioness’s favor and pulled the mansion’s strings from the shadows. Especially after that past clash with the head maid, when the marchioness had sided with her instead, ruling that the head chef must always prioritize the head maid’s orders. It had left a massive scar on his pride. The head chef grew even more prickly.
“What, so just make one mushroom dish? Or put mushrooms in everything?”
“I don’t know either. What do I do? The banquet’s almost ready to serve, time’s running out… What should we start with?”
Irritation boiled up in the head chef. The kitchen was a madhouse. No, this was ridiculous.
“If they’re allergic to mushrooms, they won’t eat mushroom dishes anyway, right? So what’s the point of serving them? Are you supposed to sneak mushrooms in or something? What if someone gets sick? If anything happens, it’ll all fall on me.”
Is this some kind of trap?
“Yeah… ? What do we do?”
Why couldn’t they give proper instructions? Time was short anyway. Mrs. Hurst’s orders had to be “prioritized” no matter what. Swallowing a curse, the head chef barked quick instructions.
“First, put mushrooms on every dish. But make sure they’re right out in the open. That way, anyone allergic can avoid them. Skip any pureed mushrooms or mushroom stock dishes entirely.”
“Yes, Chef!”
If someone’s allergic, they’ll just leave the mushrooms, right? That’ll be the test. Nothing to it. * * *
“Were mushrooms a specialty of Julius?”
“They go surprisingly well. Haha. I’ll have to tell our chef back home.”
The merchants laughed good-naturedly, glossing over the menu’s imbalance. The marquis and marchioness forced awkward smiles, facing puddings, chocolate cakes, and crème brûlées topped with mushrooms. Serving the finest dishes to guests was a noble’s pride. It was a way to flaunt the mansion’s wealth and a test of the lady of the house’s taste. In that regard, their head chef had always been impeccable. But mushroom-topped chocolate cake and crème brûlée? Chefs and cooks were essential to showcase the family’s prowess, and naturally, continent’s top conglomerate Julius employed the best chef as head chef. The marchioness hadn’t needed to check dishes for years, like any ordinary lady. She’d bask in visitors’ awe at the exquisite food, boast about hiring the finest head chef to flaunt their wealth, then humbly credit the talented man while preening. And now, at this crucial time when the empire’s top merchants were flocking to the mansion one after another! Mushroom chocolate cake! They were playing delighted now, but elsewhere they’d mock, “Julius Mansion? Well, they serve chocolate cake with mushrooms.” The marchioness couldn’t believe such a blunder had happened. Mushrooms paired surprisingly well with most dishes, so it hadn’t been obvious until dessert. But once desserts started coming out, it was clear. Mushrooms on everything! Was this because of the order to check for mushroom allergies? No, even so, there were limits! Wait. Did these dishes go up to Arthur too? The marchioness’s head spun. How the hell were they handling things?! * * *
“How the hell are you handling things?!”
The office door slammed shut, and the marquis hurled his hat, bellowing. The marchioness shouted back.
“You gave that order!”
The marquis yelled right back, undaunted.
“Final checks on guest dishes are your job! Do I have to micromanage this too?! How is nothing done right?!”
The marchioness trembled with rage. He was right—it was the lady’s role. But both marquis and marchioness had been swamped meeting VIPs and merchants nonstop, with no time to check menus. Forget checks; the marchioness was run ragged just changing into appropriate dresses and primping between appointments based on their type and time. He’d been with her the whole time, so he knew damn well! Her face flushed crimson as she stomped her foot.
“You’ve got some nerve! Who’s fault is all this?!”
“……”
Christina, who’d been silently watching the marquis couple’s spat, quietly tapped ash into the ashtray and spoke.
“Shall I check from now on?”
The marquis and marchioness, mid-shout at each other, stared at their daughter in disbelief. Christina exhaled the last puff of smoke from deep in her lungs and said calmly.
“You two have been so busy meeting merchants lately. Appointments piling up nonstop, no time for anything else.”
“……”
Christina gazed at the marquis and marchioness as she continued.
“I don’t have much to do besides dressing up daily and waiting for my husband’s forgiveness, so it makes sense for me to handle it. I’ll soon be managing the mansion’s household with Sir Arthur anyway, so if you entrust it to me, Mother, it’d be good practice.”
Christina…! The astonished marchioness covered her mouth, gazing at her mature daughter with teary eyes of感動. Christina went on.
“After all, I’ll be taking over this mansion’s household in the end.”
The marchioness was thrilled.
“That’s right! Christina, I didn’t think of you! Everything should go to you anyway. God, I’ve been so out of it!”
The marchioness reveled anew in the fact that, unlike other families, she could keep her daughter home forever instead of sending her off.
“Now I can rely on you!”
A married daughter would manage her husband’s home, but with a son-in-law… Christina would be this house’s lady in the end. It was true, but… The marquis eyed his daughter suspiciously. Christina met her father’s gaze with a smile. * * *
“It was just that we were busy. I didn’t think such an order mattered much compared to Madam’s perfect preparations.”
Mrs. Hurst said without batting an eye. Christina smirked and nodded at the jeweled accessory on the table.
“Take it.”
“……”
“……”
Reina and Arthur sat in silence before the banquet table. Every dish on their table was topped with mushrooms. Reina’s pupils shook. What was this? Mushrooms blatantly adorned every single dish. Not just salads, meats, or hot pots where they fit naturally. Even on yogurt with fruit, milky white pudding, the center of golden-crusted crème brûlée. On desserts that never had mushrooms. White-crossed mushrooms sat cutely smack on backsides. Seeing them even decorating chocolate cake made her think something was seriously wrong.
“……”
Reina couldn’t believe the result. It was clearly because of the note she’d sent. Did Sir Arthur pull this petty revenge over picky eating? No, but… wasn’t this too childish? Was this his plan…? She’d written that note quite seriously, feeling guilty for snitching behind his back… What was the point of secret notes like this? He’d figure out she was telling outsiders about him. Even that he was picky.
“……”
Arthur propped his chin, staring at the mushroom-laden table with a puzzled what-does-this-mean expression.
“……”
Feeling like she’d unwittingly joined a mean prank to mess with him, Reina peeked at him, face burning. Arthur muttered.
“It feels like I’m a kid who got severely scolded by my parents.”
“……”
Arthur said calmly.
“……I know picky eating is bad. I’ll follow your advice.”
Then Arthur picked up his utensils. He prodded a mushroom on his plate. Reina panicked and stopped him.
“Let me have it!”
Reina quickly speared the mushrooms on her plate with her fork—poke poke poke—and popped them in her mouth. She stood, mushroom-free plate in hand, hurried to his side, and swapped plates with a clink.
“……”
Swallowing the mushrooms hastily, Reina said.
“Eat this one.”
“……”
Arthur looked at her. Reina’s face reddened. She felt so sorry for him. He hated them because of poisoned mushrooms on the battlefield… She didn’t want him eating uncomfortably, dredging up those memories. So petty. Over food… She hadn’t expected the marchioness to go this far on her report. After five years of hardship from poor supplies…
“Madam.”
Arthur chuckled softly and took her hand.
“Just leave it. I’m not a child. It’s not like I can’t eat them. Seeing you enjoy them makes them look fine.”
“No.”
Reina pulled the plate back, embarrassed.
“I once got terribly sick from bad fish, so I don’t eat fish dishes much now.”
Holding another mushroom-laden plate, Reina continued.
“No matter how fresh or how everyone says it’s delicious, the bad memory makes me hesitate, and I can’t taste it properly. Forcing down something you hate ruins the meal. No need to eat it. There’s plenty of other tasty stuff.”
She wanted to defend him—that avoiding mushrooms wasn’t childish pickiness. But Arthur’s expression shifted slightly at her words. He frowned as if doubting his ears.
“……You ate spoiled fish? How?”
Reina clamped her mouth shut. Slip-up. Of course Lady Christina never ate spoiled fish. Arthur’s face hardened.
“Did Julius make you eat spoiled fish?”
“Ah, Sir Arthur.”
Arthur looked at Reina with a stern face.
“I went to the battlefield thinking my wife would be safe and comfortable here. So what exactly have you been through while I was gone?”
Reina was at a complete loss for words.
