Would it really turn out well? I watched the oven nervously. The quatre-quarts was a pastry made with a generous amount of quite precious ingredients.
It was made in someone else's house, with someone else's ingredients, and it was the first pastry I was making for Frieda. I couldn't afford to fail.
"Mine, is it not ready yet?"
"Should we take a look inside once?"
Ilse opened the oven and peered inside. It looked nicely puffed up, but the back and the front were browning a little differently.
"Miss Ilse, the back seems to have baked more evenly. Could you turn it around and put it back in?"
"Sure."
Ilse deftly spun it around and shoved the iron pot back in.
Even wearing thick mittens, I would never stick my hand into that blazing-hot oven. I was impressed by the practiced ease of a seasoned cook.
After the lid clanged shut perfectly, Ilse looked down at me.
"How do you judge when it's baked through?"
"Um, you insert a thin, long stick with a pointed end, like a bamboo skewer, to check — but do you have one?"
"Hmm, the closest thing I can think of is this kind of stick we use for roasting meat."
She rummaged around and found an iron skewer, the kind you'd stick meat and vegetables onto for a barbecue. I'd never checked doneness with an iron skewer before, so honestly, I had no idea if it would work. I'd just have to try.
...It seemed like it would poke a pretty big hole, but since there were no bamboo skewers, there was nothing to be done about it.
I had once stuck a pair of disposable chopsticks into something back when there were no bamboo skewers available, so it was probably fine.
Ilse slid the stick in to check, and a small bit of dough clung to it.
"It looks like the inside isn't baked through yet."
"How can you tell?"
"See how there's still a bit of underbaked dough stuck here? When nothing clings like that anymore, that's the sign it's done."
By the time the inside was baked through, the top had turned a shade darker brown, so the oven might have been a little too hot. But unlike the ovens I was used to, temperature control here couldn't be adjusted easily, so there was nothing to do but leave it to the craftsman's experience and intuition.
"I'll try to watch the oven more carefully next time," Ilse muttered as she pulled the quatre-quarts out of the oven. Once removed from the mold, a fluffy, round cake had baked up beautifully, like a castella.
"Amazing!"
"Yeah, it looks delicious."
The two of them gazed at the finished quatre-quarts with sparkling eyes, and an indescribable sense of accomplishment welled up in my chest.
"Normally, to keep it from drying out, you'd wrap it in a tightly wrung-out damp cloth and let it rest for two to three days before eating — that makes it taste better. But shall we try a small taste?"
Ilse sliced it thin with a knife, and I pinched off a piece and popped it in my mouth. The true pleasure of a taste test was doing it this way — not with a fork, but sneaking a bite by yourself before anyone else shows up, drawn in by the smell.
"Mmm, a resounding success."
I had only ever eaten pound cake before, but the taste was fine even in this round shape and baked in an iron pot.
Following me, Ilse, who was accustomed to taste-testing, put a piece in her mouth.
"Oh, this is..."
Frieda, who had been hesitating to pinch off a piece with her fingers, saw Ilse tasting it and hurriedly popped some into her own mouth.
"Oh my!"
The two of them widened their eyes, then swiveled their faces toward me and stared. They had the eyes of predators, much like the Guild Master in the morning.
...Was there something vaguely threatening about this?
I should probably escape before they asked me some strange question. I grabbed Frieda's hand.
"Well, Frieda. Let's have this served as dessert after the meal so everyone can enjoy it. Next up is the bath."
As I was leaving the kitchen, I spun around on a whim — I wouldn't forget my thanks.
"Miss Ilse, thank you for everything."
As far as pastry-making went, we hadn't really done much actual work, but sifting flour had left the cuffs of our sleeves covered in powder. We had plenty of time, so let's freshen up with some hair rinse.
When I took Frieda's hand and stepped out of the kitchen, a servant girl who had helped with the morning preparations was waiting for us.
"You two, please take your bath before moving about any further."
"My, Yutte, you're saying the same thing as Mine."
Frieda giggled and started walking.
Yutte had apparently anticipated that we would get dirty from baking and had hot water ready. She carried a basket holding a change of clothes, towels, and a jar of hair rinse, and guided us onward.
"This way, please."
When Yutte descended the stairs inside the house, my eyes went wide.
"...If I go down those stairs, will I end up in the shop?"
"It's fine."
Yutte passed by the first-floor door where the shop was and continued downward. It seemed we were heading to the basement.
At the bottom of the stairs, there were two doors — an impressive, stately door and an ordinary one.
Yutte opened the stately one and ushered us inside. The floor was so warm I wanted to ask if there was underfloor heating, and the room itself was warm as well.
There were two large wooden tables covered with cloth. They looked like massage tables. I would later learn that I was not wrong in thinking so.
"Come now, please remove your shoes and clothes."
It turned out this room served as both a massage room and a changing area.
At Yutte's urging, I undressed. Frieda was also being helped out of her clothes by Yutte.
Then, when another door was opened, there was a bath roughly six tatami mats in size — about the size of a private family bath at a Japanese hot spring, with a tub large enough for two or three adults to stretch out their legs.
At a glance, a white marble-like floor spread out before us, and the tub, made of the same material, was filled to the brim with water. At one end of the tub stood a statue of a girl holding a jug, and from that jug, water trickled steadily into the bath.
Because water flowed in from the statue, a small amount constantly drained from the tub, and the incoming water was heated, so the entire bathroom was warm.
The ceiling was tiled, and through windows positioned near the top, bright sunlight poured in. Surrounded by white marble, the light reflected beautifully, giving the room a bright atmosphere.
"Whaaat?! What is this?!"
When I let out a cry of astonishment at the unexpected appearance of such a luxurious bath, my voice echoed back, reverberating off the walls.
Frieda saw me frozen in the doorway, mouth agape, and laughed with delight before stepping into the bathroom herself.
"Ufufu, surprised? Grandfather had this made to replicate the kind of bath found in noble estates. It's not something we normally use, but he told me I could use it specially since tomorrow is the
"So there... was a bath like this."
A bath I hadn't used in over a year was right before my eyes. And it was even more spacious and luxurious than the one in my house — the one from my life as Reina.
"It was brought in from a foreign country and is said to be popular among the nobility for its beauty and health benefits. But the floor is slippery, so be careful."
"Okay."
Yutte entered still wearing her clothes, though she had changed into a different apron. It was made of a slightly stiff material meant to get wet, wrapped around her skirt portion. The skirt was also gathered up a bit to keep it from getting wet, with part of it tied together.
When Yutte came inside and immediately tried to wash Frieda, I hastily pulled out the hair rinse.
"Miss Yutte, please use this when you wash. Like this — give it a little shake..."
I explained, but Yutte looked down at Frieda with a slightly troubled expression.
"Yutte, why don't you let Mine wash me today?"
"Um, am I allowed to wash her?"
Yutte yielded her spot, and I began washing Frieda's hair. Meanwhile, Yutte rubbed soap onto a towel and started washing Frieda's body.
"During times like this, when there's a washing area and plenty of hot water, you apply what you've taken into your hand directly to your hair to wash it. Be careful not to use your nails — use the pads of your fingers to gently scrub the scalp."
"It tickles, but it feels nice."
Frieda's hair had probably been well cared for by Yutte. It was already silky smooth and had a nice sheen to it. She might not even have needed the hair rinse.
The wealthy upper class had probably already established their own beauty routines, so hair rinse might be a tough sell after all.
As I washed Frieda's hair, these thoughts crossed my mind. This might be worth reporting to Benno.
"Once you've washed it all like this, rinse the hair out thoroughly. Please rinse carefully so that all the liquid on the scalp is washed away."
When I said that, Yutte poured water from a bucket over Frieda's body to rinse off the suds. Once her body was clean, Frieda strode over to the tub and hopped right in with a splash.
Curious to see what she would do, Frieda rested her head on the edge and let her hair hang outside the tub. Then Yutte carefully rinsed the hair dangling over the side.
Ohhh, so that's how they wash your hair here. Good thing I hadn't said "I'll rinse it!" and doused her with a splash of water. That could have been a disaster.
I watched wide-eyed at this lady's bathing method until the rinsing was finished. The luxury of being able to use water so freely was wonderful.
Since Frieda was done washing, I reached for the jar of hair rinse to wash my own hair. Frieda came splashing out of the tub, eyes gleaming.
"I want to wash Mine's hair too!"
"...I don't mind, but..."
Was it really okay to have a lady do that for me?
I glanced at Yutte to ask for her approval, and she let out a soft sigh before settling down near me.
"Well then, my lady. Let's wash it together. I'd also like to practice using this hair rinse."
"Fine by me."
She said she wanted to practice, but really she was going to back Frieda up if anything went wrong. Thank you, Miss Yutte.
With two of them working on my hair, big fingers and little fingers squirming around. It was incredibly ticklish, but I couldn't exactly laugh about it, so I held still and endured.
"Mine's hair is so easy to work with, isn't it?"
"My hair is naturally straight, so it just slides away and I can't tie it up with a cord. That's why I use a hairpin."
"It really is strange that a simple wooden stick can hold hair in place."
"Hmm, it's because I don't have anything else around me, really. It was more of a last resort..."
After washing a good portion of my hair, Yutte left the rest to Frieda and started washing my body. With Frieda washing my hair, I couldn't escape even if I wanted to, so I just sat there and let them do as they pleased.
"Now Mine is all clean too."
After fussing over my hair for a while, Frieda withdrew her hands with a satisfied look, and I reached for the bucket.
But Yutte grabbed it before I could.
"Now then, let's rinse your hair. Please get into the tub."
"I-I can do it myself!"
"You are our guest, Mine. Come now."
I was swept up by her smiling persistence, so I settled into the tub like Frieda had, resting my head on the edge.
I draped my hair over the side, and Yutte rinsed it carefully. Warm water cascaded over me, and gentle hands worked through my hair, massaging my scalp.
Ah, this was like a salon. It felt so good.
Yutte must regularly help with Frieda's baths. Her practiced touch was incredibly pleasant — I could have easily fallen asleep right there.
"Hey, Mine. When you don't have a bath, how do you wash your hair?"
Frieda's question snapped me awake. This was not a salon. I must not fall asleep.
I turned my gaze toward Frieda's voice and saw that she had slid up beside me, resting her head on the edge of the tub in the same pose.
Looking up at the mosaic tile pattern on the ceiling through the steam, I explained my usual washing method.
"When there's no bath, I fill a bucket about halfway with hot water and mix in the hair rinse. Then I dip my hair into the bucket and pour the liquid over my hair to wash it. To make sure none of the liquid stays in my hair, I wipe it with a cloth over and over and comb through it repeatedly."
I diluted the rinse to the point where it would be fine if a little remained in the hair, washed multiple times, and toweled off as thoroughly as possible to remove any residue. This was another desperate improvisation born from wanting to wash my hair without access to hot water.
If my home had a bath like this, I wouldn't have had to struggle so much.
"Is the hair rinse yours?"
"No, Benno owns all the rights to it. It should be going up for sale soon."
"I see..."
Frieda looked like she wanted to say something, but before she could speak, Yutte's hands stopped.
"Would this be sufficient?"
"Thank you. It felt wonderful."
I sat up and thanked her, and Yutte rose gracefully.
"Then I'll go prepare for what's next. You two should soak until you're thoroughly warmed through, then come on out."
"Okaaay."
After watching Yutte leave the bathroom, I sank into the water up to my shoulders with a contented plop. I scooped up some hot water, splashed my face, and let out a long, deep breath.
Ahh, heaven. Absolute heaven.
"Mine, you look like you're about to melt."
"Because the bath feels so good! Stretching out my legs and soaking up to my shoulders — it's just too luxurious."
"So Mine, you like the bath?"
"Of course! I'd take one every day if I could!"
At Frieda's words, I grinned broadly and nodded. But Frieda didn't look particularly happy about it.
"...Frieda, you don't like it?"
"I don't dislike it, but the heat makes my head spin after I get out."
"That's from overheating. You stayed in too long."
I answered reflexively, and Frieda's eyes went wide.
"Is that so? They always tell me to warm myself well, so I've just been warming up the same way I do during regular baths."
"But regular bath water cools down quickly, right? This bath keeps getting fresh hot water from that statue the whole time. So if you stay in just as long, you overheat and feel sick. How about getting out a little earlier today?"
"I'll do that."
We got out early together. By my sense of timing it was earlier than usual, but Frieda had warmed up considerably — her whole body was flushed pink.
"Are you feeling okay? Not sick?"
"I'm fine today."
After getting out of the bath, Yutte said we could have an aromatic oil massage, but I declined.
I was curious about the aromatic oil massage, but in my case, I wouldn't be getting into a bath anytime soon. I wasn't sure whether I could wash off the oil thoroughly during the towel exchange with Turi after getting home.
I got dressed and dried my hair while watching Frieda receive her massage.
"A massage... how elegant."
"Personally I don't really enjoy this sort of time, but Grandfather says that if I'm to enter noble society, it's better to get used to it."
Ah, that made sense. For Frieda, the bath was something that just made her hot and sick, and receiving the massage with that slightly annoyed expression — it was all practice for adapting to noble society.
The difference between knowing what to expect and knowing nothing at all would have a huge impact on Frieda's future.
"...Yeah. If you have the chance to get used to it, you should. The differences in etiquette and customs are pretty significant."
"Grandfather said the same thing. That's why this house has so many things you'd find in a noble estate."
I had thought that the home of Corina, who was supposed to be living a life no different from before her marriage, had a quite different atmosphere from other merchant houses. But the Guild Master's house being so luxurious wasn't just because he was a wealthy merchant. The fact that the food, the bath, and all the household items were of an entirely different quality — that was because he had brought in elements of noble life for Frieda's sake.
"She's really spoiled, isn't she?"
"...It's an investment in my future. Grandfather is thinking ahead so that when I have a shop in the Noble District, I won't be at a disadvantage, and so that this stepping stone won't go to waste." Frieda pouted her lips with a hint of dissatisfaction. Not all of Frieda's feelings were wrong, though — this wasn't something that could be done without love.
"Having a shop is Frieda's dream, so he's supporting you, right? When the Guild Master ordered that hair ornament, he was just a grandfather who could see nothing but his granddaughter."
"...I suppose so."
Perhaps Frieda was actually quite lonely.
As someone with Self-Eating, she couldn't go outside much, and just when she was finally freed from it, she was bound by a Contract with the nobles. Being destined to become a noble's concubine meant she had to live her life toward that end, and she wouldn't be able to make friends among people in completely different circumstances.
She needed to develop the toughness and shrewdness to survive in noble society, and she had to acquire the knowledge to run a shop by the time she came of age — Frieda's days were undoubtedly filled with studying. Even if it was for her own good, with her life, her livelihood, and her family's expectations all bearing down on her, the pressure on a young girl's shoulders must have been immense.
To top it off, while her family spent money on her, their own calculations for her future were transparently visible, making it hard for her to simply lean on them for comfort.
Maybe that was why she was so attached to me?
We shared the commonality of both having Self-Eating, both having dabbled in trade before our Baptism Ceremonies, and — according to
"Mine, amazing! Your hair is so silky!"
While I was lost in thought, Frieda had finished her massage and changed clothes. She ran her fingers through her hair and exclaimed in wonder.
Yutte, who was carefully combing it out with a comb, also held Frieda's hair in her hands with a pleased expression.
"Yes, the results are wonderful."
"I'm glad you like it. I hope it makes up a little for the Magical Tool I received?"
"My goodness, you already paid proper compensation for it. You really don't need to worry about that."
I laughed wryly at Frieda's thoroughly merchant-like words and shook my head.
"It was my own desire to say thank you. If the Guild Master hadn't gathered all those Magical Tools for Frieda, having money alone wouldn't have been enough."
"...That's true too."
When we finally finished with our leisurely bath and went back upstairs, a wonderful smell was wafting from the kitchen once again. It seemed Ilse was taking on the quatre-quarts a second time.
"It's a new recipe, so I need to make sure I've got it down properly."
I smiled a little at Ilse's reliable grin. If a delicious recipe spread around, I'd be happy too, so I would make sure to cheer her on.
"If Ilse is baking a fresh batch, then I'm free to eat the ones I already made, yes? I'd like to enjoy tea with Mine, so please have it prepared."
"I'll have it brought right away."
When I was about to have tea in the dining room, Lutz happened to show up.
"Yo, Mine. Something smells really nice in here."
Was his sense of smell particularly sharp when it came to sweets? I was quietly amused when Lutz, the moment he saw my face, narrowed his eyes and peered closely at me.
"What, Lutz? What is it?"
"Hey, Mine. Aren't you pushing yourself too hard today? Just because your fever went down doesn't mean you should go all out, right? Go to bed right now. You'll get a fever from exhaustion."
"Huh? What? No way. I feel fine."
I touched my face all over, confused, but Lutz shook his head with his brows furrowed.
"You're just too excited to notice. That's not good at all."
"Oh, but the Self-Eating fever should have subsided, and today I just made some pastries and took a bath together. That's all."
Frieda chimed in supportively, listing everything we had done, and tilted her head as well.
Lutz pressed his temples and sighed.
"...Right. Frieda, you're a healthy person as long as you don't have Self-Eating. Mine is sickly even without Self-Eating. Whether you collapse from Self-Eating or from overexertion, it's hard for someone unaccustomed to tell the difference — she just drops out of nowhere."
At Lutz's words, Frieda and I exchanged glances.
"Mine, is that so?!"
"Frieda, you're not sickly?!"
It turned out we had each independently assumed the wrong thing about the other.
Frieda thought everything would be fine once her Self-Eating was cured, and I thought Frieda was also weak because of Self-Eating, so it would be all right to do things together.
"The bath and all that — I don't really know about that stuff — but since it was your first time at a new place, you were probably trying to show off and went overboard with all sorts of things, right?"
"Ugh... I didn't actually do that much work..."
I had been wrapped up in tension the whole time, and it was true that I had naively assumed that if Frieda was fine, I would be too.
"You've got the face of someone who did way too much today. Don't underestimate how weak you really are. You're genuinely frail, you know?"
"You don't have to keep repeating 'weak, weak' over and over."
"I'm just stating facts. Besides, tomorrow's the Baptism Ceremony and you go home then, right? If you get a fever now, your family won't just be angry — it'll be a lot worse."
If they fixed my Self-Eating fever and I did all these things on my own as thanks, only to collapse from a fever — that would be repaying kindness with ingratitude.
Dad, who was looking forward to me coming home in good health, would be furious. Mom would scold me for causing enormous trouble at Frieda's house. And Turi would inevitably say, "Why can't Mine just behave?" with exasperation.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no..."
"Indeed. We can't very well send you home in poor health after having you stay. Mine, go rest for the night, all right?"
Even Frieda, looking worried, said as much, and I nodded heavily.
"I will. Thanks, Lutz. For telling me. ...Frieda, sorry, but would it be all right if I left this quatre-quarts with Lutz?"
"Of course. Yutte, please escort Mine to her room."
"As you wish."
I was shown to the guest room, and when I lay down on the bed, I realized just how exhausted I really was.
My whole body was drained, and the slight warmth I felt wasn't from the bath alone.
As expected of Lutz — he saw through me at a glance.
Making pastries under the pressure of not being allowed to fail, and soaking in a full bath instead of my usual quick wash — it was all new to
Being in someone else's house was quite nerve-wracking, and just as Lutz said, maybe I had pushed myself too hard.
By the time the soft futon had warmed to match my own body heat, my consciousness had faded completely.
Frieda's house had a magnificent bath.
It was used to show off wealth and power when guests visited the Guild Master, but it was not used regularly.
It consumed tremendous amounts of water and firewood, so it was only used about once a week in winter.
Next time, it will be Frieda's Baptism Ceremony.