I'm Ilse. The Guild Master's live-in cook.
Hah? Don't ask a woman her age.
I started down the path to becoming a cook as a natural course of events, since my parents ran a restaurant. When I was little, they worked a food stall, and I grew up watching them set up a small shop right beside the East Gate. They trained me hard, so I could cook even before becoming an apprentice, and I was pretty good at counting money too—unusual for a child who hadn't had her
After my Baptism Ceremony, I started working as an apprentice at a friend of my parents' shop, absorbing new recipes left and right. I loved learning, and I'd think about how to make the recipes I'd been taught, the ones I'd learned by watching from the side, even more delicious.
After wandering from shop to shop honing my skills, I was asked to work in a noble's mansion. My parents told me not to go—I might never be able to come back to the city—but I ignored them and went.
Of course I did. When else would I get the chance to learn recipes from a noble's mansion?
Starting as the lowest cook, doing prep work and dishes, I steadily picked up the head cook's techniques. The ingredients and seasonings used for noble meals were on a completely different level. The plating was gorgeous too, nothing like what you'd see at a city eatery. Every single day was a learning experience.
But that only lasted a few years.
No matter how much I honed my skills, I just couldn't advance further. To rise in a noble's household, you needed more than just skill—you needed bloodline and connections.
The one who called out to me while I was languishing there was the Guild Master. Actually, the sous-chef was supposed to be the one headhunted, but the head cook recommended me instead—someone with skill but no path upward.
I was told to make meals equal to what you'd serve nobles, for the young lady who would be entering the Noble District once she came of age. The idea was that this way, the young lady—who would one day enter the Noble District on her own—wouldn't struggle in the future.
I accepted in a heartbeat. A chance for me to show my skills as a head cook had finally come along. And not at some inferior minor noble's place, but at the Guild Master's house, with better funds?
They equipped the kitchen to the same standard as a noble's mansion, and provided all the seasonings and ingredients I needed. As a cook, this was the most fulfilling job imaginable—the best workplace. To match this best environment, I gave it my all every day. There's never been a more enjoyable, more fulfilling daily life.
I was confident in my skills.
I had absolute pride in all the recipes I'd gathered over the years.
That is, until Mine burst onto the scene.
That was a shock.
Even at the Guild Master's house, sugar had only just been adopted—seasoning that had recently been sent from the central region, with no well-established cooking methods yet. I'd been wanting to try various things with it, but hadn't had time to fully research it.
And yet, Mine casually started making sweets with it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She had no physical strength or arm power, so I did all the actual cooking, but the instructions she gave—only possible if you knew the recipe—were something else entirely.
The finished quatre-quarts was a fluffy, moist pastry with an elegant sweetness and a crumbly, melt-in-your-mouth texture unlike anything in my previous repertoire. Even the noble's mansion had never handled anything like it.
But according to what the young lady had told me about Mine's background, she was a Commoner with a Soldier father and a mother who worked in a dyeing workshop. A family like that wouldn't have easy access to luxury items like sweets. Their only sweeteners would have been wild fruits and honey gathered from the forest.
Where on earth had Mine learned these sweets recipes?
From then on, I researched everything I could about the quatre-quarts Mine had taught me—the consistency of the batter, oven temperature, baking time, and so on. By baking it over and over, I elevated it to what I consider my masterpiece. The young lady even asked if it could be sold as a product aimed at nobility.
I had Mine taste it, skillfully guided the conversation, and the young lady said she wanted to buy the rights. As someone dealing in Self-Eating, Mine would surely come seeking connections with nobility. The plan was to offer connections to a well-placed noble in exchange for the rights to the quatre-quarts.
But the young lady's plan didn't pan out, and Mine didn't show her face even as summer approached. When the young lady grew impatient and brought Mine along, Mine entered the reception room with a calm demeanor that suggested she didn't understand her life was on a deadline.
"Welcome, Mine. Glad you could make it. I baked quatre-quarts just for you. Do tell me what you think."
After eating the quatre-quarts I'd improved upon improvement, Mine—in exchange for sugar—offered even more suggestions for improvement.
"Grating Ferijine peel into the dough will change the aroma and flavor, making it more delicious. Other ingredients will change the taste too. As for what to add and in what ratios to make it taste good, try experimenting on your own. This is just extra information, but if you're ever serving it to nobles, topping it with well-whipped cream or decorative fruit cuts will make it look much more luxurious."
As I grated Ferijine peel into the quatre-quarts dough, I gripped the bowl tightly. Mine could rattle off improvements so casually—she definitely knew many more recipes.
I wanted them. New recipes.
I wanted the recipes Mine knew.
"Ilse, Ilse! I've brought Mine!"
The young lady announced with a radiant smile as she threw open the kitchen door. Having decided to hold what she called a "tasting event"—a first for us—she'd been working with astonishing energy lately. Rallying the whole family, she'd been giving her all to make the event happen.
The young lady had been frail since birth, and when I first came to this house, she spent most of her time cooped up in her rooms. Her favorite pastime had been counting gold coins in her spacious room—hardly the same person as she is now. She's changed so much since meeting Mine.
Now she burns with ambition to become a merchant who can rival even
"So, Mine suggests we include children in our target audience?"
I arranged small slices of quatre-quarts onto the table in the corner of the kitchen.
Mine had apparently been brought here today to give her opinions on the tasting event. She looked around the kitchen curiously while answering the young lady.
"While Commoner children probably can't afford to buy them, merchant children might understand the product's value, or have the money to purchase them. If they're old enough to be apprentices, they can probably read. And more than anything, food you loved as a child is something you never forget, even as an adult."
"Do you think so?"
The young lady murmured while scribbling something on a wooden tag. I felt oddly unsettled. Mine, who was small for her age due to Self-Eating, still looked like a child who hadn't even had her Baptism Ceremony yet. And yet she spoke as if she'd experienced being an adult.
"Oh, and when selling quatre-quarts, instead of selling a whole one at a time, selling pre-cut portions like this would lower the price per unit and expand the customer base. For couples sharing one, for a Baptism Ceremony celebration, and so on."
"We're planning to sell primarily to nobility at first. As a luxury sweet."
The young lady wanted to raise the value through exclusive distribution. Mine wanted to lower the price slightly and spread it to as many people as possible. Even when two girls the same age were selling the same product, their thinking couldn't have been more different.
"Exclusive distribution to build value is fine, but this is a sweet—if you want to build brand awareness, I think you'd be better off broadening the purchasing base..."
"My exclusive period is one full year. After that, word will spread on its own, won't it? During that year, I want to sell primarily to nobles and build up as much value as possible."
"Hmm. In that case, if you could offer new seasonal flavors using seasonal fruits, you'd differentiate from competitors, and regular customers would be happy too."
New seasonal flavors?
Mine's offhand remark was caught quickly by my ears. Imagining the fruits of each season, I tilted my head.
"What about winter? There aren't seasonal fruits in winter, right? What would you do then?"
"Winter sweets are made with Paru, aren't they? And then there's 'Rumtopf'..."
Mine suddenly froze mid-sentence, her eyes going wide as she clamped her mouth shut. When I raised an eyebrow at the abrupt silence and looked at her, Mine shifted her gaze around nervously and crossed her index fingers in front of her mouth.
"...That part is paid information."
She'd apparently just realized that she'd been freely spilling valuable information while caught up in conversation. The young lady smiled at Mine's embarrassed expression.
"What sort of information might that be? I'm fully prepared to pay a fair price for Mine's knowledge."
Mine would give more than what you paid for, calling it a bonus, as long as she felt the price was fair.
The young lady had always said it was far better to set fair prices and build a long, trusting relationship than to be stingy and end up with distance between you. It was quite striking to see how the young lady who used to say that "a merchant who doesn't cheat isn't worth anything" had changed.
"Let's see, I call it 'Rumtopf,' but it's essentially fruit preserved in alcohol. It takes time to properly preserve, but I think it could be used as a winter ingredient for quatre-quarts."
"How about five large silver coins?"
Once you knew it was fruit preserved in alcohol, the rest could be figured out through trial and error. Even in the worst case that this deal didn't work out, I'd try to make it happen—just as I was thinking this, Mine glanced at the sugar.
"...Since sugar isn't available around here yet, the method for making and using 'Rumtopf' isn't circulating either, right?"
She said fruit preserved in alcohol, but apparently sugar was also used. I'd better listen to this. Recipes using sugar were still mostly experimental, and not many were circulating.
When I looked at the young lady, she gave a small nod.
"Would eight small gold coins suffice?"
"Deal. I'll teach you how to make it and how to use it. As long as sugar isn't available around here yet, you can keep the exclusive rights, so there's no need for a Contract, right?"
After exchanging our guild cards and the money, Mine pointed to a jar in the kitchen.
"I need a jar like that one. Do you have any others?"
"I'm not using any right now, so I have plenty. What else do you need?"
Following Mine's instructions, I scurried around the kitchen preparing everything.
I washed the seasonal fruit—rutabere—thoroughly, cut off the stems, sliced them to uniform size, and placed them in a bowl. I added nearly half the sugar and left it to sit. Leave it until the fruit released its moisture and the sugar dissolved, she said.
"Mine, do you really understand the value of sugar? Are you serious about using this much?"
"It's for preservation. If you skimp, the fruit will rot and become inedible. Also, the alcohol you add later has to be really strong—like distilled—or the fruit will rot, so be careful."
Mine's sense of money was a bit off, I thought, given that she sold rights and recipes for large sums. Did she truly understand the value of sugar—which traded at the same weight as silver coins—to be using it so lavishly?
"Once the rutabere releases its moisture, put it in the jar and add the alcohol. ...You need to add enough to fully submerge the fruit, or the exposed parts will grow mold. Then, after about ten days, add another batch of fruits. Puffyul and Brare will be coming into season soon, right? Stuff the jar with summer fruits and eat them once winter comes. Oh, and fruits like Ferijine don't seem to work well."
The young lady was diligently noting down all the precautions. I committed them to memory while stirring the bowl's contents. I could see the moisture gradually coming out.
"Do you make it too?"
"Yeah. I got some sugar before, so this is my first attempt too. It can go into quatre-quarts, or you can use it as jam. It's also delicious over parfaits and ice cream."
Mine murmured with a dreamy smile, saying that making this would make winter something to look forward to. Then the young lady suddenly looked toward the table, as if remembering something.
"Oh no. We got sidetracked. I brought Mine here to discuss the tasting event."
"Ah, right. About that—Benno wants to participate too. Is that okay?"
"What?!"
The young lady's eyes flashed as she looked at Mine. Mine scratched her cheek and tilted her head upward, as if recalling her conversation with Benno.
"Apparently, tasting events themselves are quite rare. He's interested in what sweets will be sold, but even more than that, he seems interested in the event format itself."
"...Is that so. Benno, you say."
After thinking for a moment, the young lady's face suddenly lit up. She'd apparently thought of something. She whirled around and headed for the kitchen door.
"I need to consult with my grandfather. I'll be gone for a bit. Ilse, please take care of Mine."
Because Benno—the one the young lady was competing against entirely on her own initiative—was now coming, the competitive fire inside her was burning even hotter. Leaving Mine in the kitchen, the young lady strode away briskly, maintaining her elegant bearing all the while.
"...She's gone."
"She doesn't usually act like that."
"You know, when you told me about the improvements to the quatre-quarts, Frieda said the exact same thing."
As Mine chuckled and pointed out the young lady's past behavior, I let out a soft sigh. Being told that I couldn't sit still whenever I learned a new recipe was something I'd heard since forever, and yet I never could fix it.
"It's your new recipes' fault."
"...Ah, sorry about that."
"Nothing to be sorry about. I want to know new recipes, that's all. Now then, eat these and tell me what you think."
I lined up the basic quatre-quarts Mine had taught me, one with grated Ferijine peel for aroma and flavor, one where I'd replaced some of the sugar with honey, and one with walnuts.
Then I brewed tea to accompany today's quatre-quarts and gently set it in front of Mine.
"They all look delicious! Bon appétit!"
Eyes sparkling, Mine held her cheeks with a melting smile and savored each bite slowly.
The way she handled the fork—her fingertips and posture—reminded me of a well-mannered noble's young lady. At the very least, it was nothing like the greedy eating habits of the poor, who rarely got to enjoy sweets.
Mine sipped her tea along with the sweets and let out a satisfied breath.
"Of these, my favorite is the Ferijine quatre-quarts."
"Why's that?"
"I love the aroma that spreads in your mouth. ...These tea leaves would go well with the quatre-quarts too."
Mine took a sip of tea, narrowed her eyes, and murmured.
"Tea leaves? Wouldn't they be hard to eat?"
"...Ah, I said too much."
Mine clapped her hand over her mouth as if she'd let something slip. It must have been valuable information.
I snorted and slammed a bag of sugar onto the work surface—the same size bag I'd given her before.
"One bag of sugar, and you spill everything. Don't leave me hanging halfway. If you're making Rumtopf, your sugar must be running low soon, right?"
Honestly, the idea of putting tea leaves in sweets had never occurred to me. Sweets are supposed to be sweet. I'd heard that in the central region, the saying was that the more sugar you used, the sweeter and better.
I didn't see how adding tea leaves would make anything sweeter. And I didn't have time to research on my own what kind of leaves to use and how.
"...One bag of sugar? Sure, I guess that works. Ilse will make something delicious out of it."
Mine thought for just a moment, then opened her mouth.
"To keep the texture smooth, grind the tea leaves very finely before mixing them in. That'll give you a fragrant dough."
"Tea, like this?"
I showed Mine the bottle filled with tea leaves I'd used, and she nodded. After staring at the bottle for a while, I lit the oven.
While Mine ate her quatre-quarts beside me, I began grinding the tea leaves. I wanted to try baking right away. I'd be neglecting my guest, but Mine was watching my hands with a delighted smile, saying it was fine as long as she got to taste it first.
"Hey, Mine. There's something I want to ask, if you don't mind."
"Yes, what is it?"
"You—not just with sweets, but with soup too—don't you have some secret up your sleeve?"
"Wha!?"
Fork still in her mouth, Mine's golden eyes went wide as she looked up at me. I raised one eyebrow while beating eggs.
"Thinking about how the food disappeared during the time you stayed here, that's the conclusion I reached. You left the soup behind, didn't you? I thought maybe you hated vegetables, but you ate everything else when it came to other dishes. You must know some secret to making it delicious."
"...Sharp, aren't you, Ilse."
Mine took the fork from her mouth and gently set it on the plate.
"Can't you tell me?"
"Well... I'm a bit torn about the soup. Things have changed since before—I'm going to end up involved with nobles whether I like it or not, so I'd like to keep as many trump cards as I can for self-defense."
"I see."
Seeing her worn-out expression, I couldn't push further and just shrugged.
Having worked in a noble's mansion, I knew. The harshness of class division and the danger of cutting into it. No one could blame her for wanting to keep trump cards for self-defense—and it was better that she did.
"I would consider sharing sweets recipes if it's for limited-time exclusive sales, though."
"Really?!"
When I leaned forward eagerly, still clutching the bowl, Mine flinched back in surprise and nodded several times.
"Once the quatre-quarts gets established first, though. When the exclusive sales period for quatre-quarts is about to end, that would probably be the right time."
"But won't Benno interfere?"
I knew the young lady had complained bitterly about "Benno and
"Hmm, I wonder. He'd probably make a face, but I don't think he could stop me. Honestly, there's no point in making sweets recipes public to Benno."
"Why's that?"
"Benno's connections with nobility are still shallow, so he can't get the ingredients or the techniques. He hasn't established a route to obtain sugar, and a cook on Ilse's level—you'd have to recruit one from a noble's household, right? Frieda said the Guild Master was the one who recruited you."
The level of analysis and judgment Mine applied even to Benno—her de facto guardian—left me half-dazed. She had considered, in her own way, who to share information with. If that was the case, there might actually be a chance for me to learn Mine's recipes.
As I sifted flour into the bowl, I stole a glance at Mine.
"Is it okay to share recipes with me?"
"At your skill level, you could make them just from verbal instructions. Besides, I want to support someone as passionate about research as you."
Hearing Mine's words, I was so happy I wanted to shout something meaningless at the top of my lungs.
What she'd said amounted to this: Mine recognized my skill. She was willing to share recipes with me that she wouldn't share with Benno, to whom she owed a debt.
"...But sharing recipes means I need to get paid too, otherwise it'd be unfair to everyone else. So it's a bit complicated."
Even if Mine herself didn't prioritize profit, those around her did. And Mine's recipes caused chaos for those around her in more ways than one. Many of her non-food products were probably without precedent too.
As I stirred in melted butter, I confronted Mine with the question that had nagged at me.
"Hey, Mine. Who exactly are you? Where on earth did you get all those recipes?"
"...Mmm... in a dream."
"Oh really?"
Thinking she was joking, I glared at her—but Mine just smiled awkwardly.
"...Really. Now they're things I can only taste in dreams."
The nostalgic, dreamy smile that crossed Mine's face made her look oddly mature, and a strange unease crept over me as I studied her.
After closing her eyes briefly, Mine looked up and gave a bright, childish smile. But it was a clumsy, forced one—you could tell it was fake.
"If I could, I'd spread all the recipes far and wide and have talented cooks like you make them constantly."
Sensing this was a spot she didn't want to be pressed on, I played along with the conversation while pouring batter into molds.
"You don't make them yourself?"
"No arm strength, no stamina, no tools, and not enough technique—honestly, I can't recreate them. If a skilled cook could make them for me, I'd honestly share every recipe I have. But that's not how things are right now."
She waved her small hands helplessly, her face pinched with frustration.
Remembering the utter lack of strength and stamina that had prevented her from even mixing flour—let alone beating eggs—I glanced down at Mine's thin, frail little arms. She couldn't cook anything with those.
"Whenever you want to eat something, just say the word. If you teach me the recipe, I'll make as much as you want."
Recreating recipes that supposedly existed only in Mine's dreams was incredibly exciting.
Ah, how thrilling. What on earth kind of recipes were sleeping in there?
As I watched Mine nibble on her quatre-quarts, I shoved the new tea-leaf quatre-quarts into the hot oven.
That's me, Ilse—utterly fascinated by Mine's recipes.
Next time: a side story from Benno's perspective—the tasting event.