Rikuson
returned to his room and let out a long breath.
"That's got malice written all over it."
he murmured, stripping off his sand- and mud-stained clothes.
Rikuson had put in the request to inspect the rural villages ages ago. It was only
Gyokuō
who had finally granted permission a few days ago, and today, seized by a bad feeling, he had rushed back.
"When I set out, they told me it would be quite a while yet."
What he meant was the guests from the capital. He'd been told they'd arrive in about ten days. So he'd taken five days off and headed for the rural villages — but.
Brushing off his jacket sent sand cascading down. He'd love to take a bath, but there was no time. Even wiping himself down seemed out of the question. Reluctantly, he smeared perfume paste on his neck. In the western capital, fragrances came in only two forms: perfume or paste. Rikuson owned exactly two scents. One was a perfume Gyokuō had sent on a whim; the other was a paste he'd been pressured into buying on the street.
He chose the street vendor's offering. Every fragrance in the western capital had a cloying scent, so something slightly cheap and faint was just right. Above all, wearing something Gyokuō had given him was unthinkable.
After daubing on just enough to mask the stink of sweat, Rikuson pasted on a smile.
A smile is essential in business — never let it drop when dealing with customers.
He recalled his mother's words.
What kind of expression would Gyokuō wear upon seeing Rikuson back ahead of schedule? Having his former boss there would be a bit awkward, but there was nothing for it.
Rikuson cinched his belt tight and left the room.
"It has been too long."
Rikuson stepped into the hall as naturally as he could manage. Inside, Gyokuō, the subordinates, and the guests were enjoying a light meal. Servers came and went, laying out dish after dish.
It was still early for the evening meal, but they had certainly gone all out.
Rikuson couldn't forget the faces of the guests.
The unshaven man wearing a monocle was
Rakan.
His former superior — someone who needed no introduction. The adjutant standing beside him was
Onsō.
He was a man who had been with Rakan slightly before Rikuson came along. When Rikuson was appointed adjutant, Onsō had grabbed him with tears of relief, thanking him profusely. In the end, since Rikuson couldn't be glued to Rakan's side every waking moment either, it wasn't uncommon for Onsō to serve as attendant as well.
He was capable, but the sort who drew the short straw now and then. Once you ended up under Rakan, there was nothing to do but accept it — so there was no point fighting it.
Onsō seemed to have noticed Rikuson. He gave a slight nod in his direction, then leaned in to whisper something to Rakan.
Rakan was the same as ever. He looked over with that vacant expression of his. Had Onsō not told him, he probably never would have noticed Rikuson at all. Sometimes Rikuson wondered what he looked like through those eyes of his.
He kept beckoning Rikuson over with little waves, but Rikuson glanced toward Tamaō, wondering whether it was safe to approach so casually. The acting lord of Saito, seated at the center of the table, waved him over generously, signaling him to go pay his respects.
The whole thing made him uncomfortable. Onsō was looking at him with an expression that said it all — and while Rikuson understood that, between a current superior and a former one, the hierarchy was clear enough.
Rakan, meanwhile, seemed completely unconcerned, eating his fried food. Behind him, a lady-in-waiting Rikuson had never seen before was tasting the food herself, then passing token portions to Rakan.
He'd heard the Imperial Younger Brother was coming too, but the man wasn't here. Since this didn't seem to be an official banquet, Rakan had probably just tagged along without a second thought after being invited. From how badly Onsō's eyes were darting about, Rikuson could tell this was the kind of gathering Rakan was supposed to have refused.
"Um... Rikuson, I want to eat those steamed buns."
For a moment, he thought Rakan had forgotten his name, but no — he'd gotten it right. And when he said "those steamed buns"...
"Onsō says he doesn't know which restaurant they're from. Even though I keep telling him it's those ones."
No, "those ones" wasn't going to cut it.
Rikuson searched his memory.
"They're a sweet treat, right?"
"Right."
"Do they have a filling?"
"I don't think so."
It didn't sound like the sweetness came from bean paste.
"Do you eat them with some kind of sauce?"
"Yes, yes — that white one is delicious."
Rikuson had his answer.
"Lord Rakan."
"Six-Six"
"Restaurant's fried buns, right?"
"Now that you mention it, I think that's right."
It was something he'd been sent to buy multiple times after trying it at the shop that one time.
"Onsou. Please serve the fried flower rolls with condensed milk that has sugar added."
"Got it."
There were flower rolls sitting in front of Rakan, so he must have remembered.
"Fried buns with condensed milk — that sounds wonderful!"
The maid who appeared to be the food taster lit up with excitement. She didn't look much like a maid, but Rakan must have picked her up somewhere again.
Meeting after so long and having this sort of conversation, I thought that Rakan was still Rakan — unchanged as ever.
"Lord Rakan. I'll prepare them for tomorrow's dim sum."
"I want to eat them tonight at dinner."
"Please don't say unreasonable things. It's a communal meal."
Onsou spoke in a small, halting whisper, clearly struggling to get the words out. When I glanced over at her sympathetically, she shot me a sharp glare in return.
"You seem the same as ever."
Rikuson addressed Onsou, trying to smooth things over.
"Yes, nothing's changed. But you — you've become quite enamored with the Western Capital, it seems."
She had apparently noticed his sun-darkened skin and the scent of incense clinging to him. When he'd been in the capital, he never burned any incense.
"Rikuson has only just returned from a long journey. Go easy on him."
Gyokuō tore into her meat while admonishing Onsou. She must have overheard the conversation.
"O-Oh, is that so?"
Being suddenly addressed by Gyokuō, Onsou's face blanched. She clearly hadn't expected anyone to speak to her.
"Does the food suit your palate? If there's anything you'd like, I can have it prepared right away."
"Do you happen to have the fried buns from the Six-Six Restaurant?"
It was just like Rakan to ask so without any hesitation.
"Oh? What kind of fried buns would those be?"
Since he was asking, it fell to Rikuson to explain.
My stomach began to cramp.
When Rikuson thought that this state of affairs might continue for a while, he let out a sigh, dreading what lay ahead.