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Chapter 45
Eight Breads. Next to the Mad Dog, Next to the Madman (8)
A suffocating air flowed through the room.
The stifling indoor air circulated thanks to a magical device, releasing its distinct artificial scent. Every time Ban caught that smell, he felt like a fish trapped in a tank.
Through the glass walls, distorted giant eyes seemed to lick him with their gaze, scrutinizing him with an almost giggling amusement.
Although it was called a banquet, only a few dozen people were seated in small groups around round tables, and the host was nowhere to be seen.
“Only those who usually avoid appearing at gatherings…”
Each person was influential within the Rosso royal palace. Ban recognized a few of the faces.
Unconsciously, Ban checked if any of his siblings or parents were present. Fortunately—or perhaps because they already knew Ban would come—no faces from the Cronin family were visible. The banquet hall was spacious enough that not every attendee could be seen.
“Who’s the host?”
“Well, for now… it seems some people from the Empire are mixed in.”
“I know that too. You can tell just by looking—some of them give off a really annoying vibe.”
The magician who had ‘created’ Edmund was from the Empire. He disliked everyone, but he disliked Empire people about thirty percent more than others. When Ban glanced at him, Edmund tilted his head crookedly.
“Why?”
“Just because your outfit looks the same as always.”
“Afraid I’ll wear some clownish costume? A mage only needs a robe.”
“True, who’d criticize the mage tower attire anyway.”
“Where the hell did that cursed Maurice go? Leaving someone in a place like this…”
Thanks to Edmund’s obvious displeasure, no one who might have approached their table could come near. An unexpected advantage. Ban spoke.
“The host must be someone Maurice knows. Do you know anything else?”
“I’m friends with Maurice, but I don’t know him all that well. Just a bit more than others. He’s good at acquiring rare ingredients, so I got closer to him through meeting him.”
He had a commendable social skill. Ban had even found himself feeling unexpectedly friendly toward him at times, much to his own surprise.
Though there were suspicious aspects, conversing with him gradually eroded any sense of caution, as naturally as water soaking into paper.
That was not a good sign.
“Is Maurice from the Empire?”
“Shouldn’t be.”
Then, could Maurice be trusted? Regardless of their judgment, it was clear that Ellie trusted Maurice the most. Both Edmund and Ban were dissatisfied with that.
It seemed they were better than Maurice, so why?
Since parting from them, Maurice had not appeared at all. Ban had no idea what his intention was in bringing Ellie here.
At that moment, the server cleared the plates that Edmund hadn’t touched and brought out the dessert.
Before even smelling it, Edmund picked up a fork. Ban laughed again.
“You’re going to eat that?”
“Because Ellie made it.”
There was no need to ask how he knew. A small card accompanied the dessert plate, elegantly handwritten: Cookie Walking. Even without the card, they could somehow tell it was Ellie’s creation.
Strangely, it wasn’t based on any evidence—it was just intuition.
“This is a dessert called Cookie Walking that’s apparently trending these days. A new menu?”
“Never seen it before… is it safe to eat?”
“You wouldn’t doubt the menu chosen for Prince Demian’s banquet, would you?”
Ban perked up.
Demian—the third prince of the Yan Empire.
“They say women especially like it.”
“Ugh, I hate sweets.”
And Ban recognized that voice. He realized why Maurice had brought them here first. Probably Edmund did too; they exchanged glances.
A large man sat cross-legged, wearing a bored expression. Likely the Empire’s fifth prince, Marc, who had recently been in the gossip columns. His reddish-brown hair stretched out like a lion’s mane, his sharp eyes and gray irises gleaming fiercely.
As his nickname, Red Lion of the Battlefield, suggested, he was notorious for a violent disposition and love of war and bloodshed.
Next to Marc, Seth Hastings nodded with a pale face.
“No matter how much Prince Demian dislikes it, he insisted we try the dessert, didn’t he?”
“If you don’t say anything, no one will know. You’re not planning to tattle, are you?”
“Of course not…”
“If women like it, my fiancée will too. Cookie Walking, huh? Seth, bring the shop owner here. Then even my fiancée, who acts like a little beast, might warm up.”
“Well… the owner of Cookie Walking hasn’t been revealed yet…”
“There’s no secret in the world. If you don’t know, it’s only because you couldn’t find out.”
“Still…”
“Fine! I’ll ask my brother. If not, we’ll take this dessert and feed it to our fiancée hiding in her room. How about that?”
“As His Highness wishes.”
“You don’t even feel honored to be invited by my brother? Saying you’ll rest because you’re in a bad mood? Stop whining…”
“Your Highness, your voice is loud. The Duke of McClure isn’t far either…”
“I’m speaking for you to hear.”
Seth Hastings glanced around timidly. No one paid attention. Nobody here would give the slightest indication that they overheard something Marc didn’t want to hear.
Not only did the Empire people know Marc’s temper well, but the Rosso kingdom nobles, wanting to keep their positions safe, also pretended not to hear.
“Wow, I didn’t expect it. If I’d known my fiancée was this beautiful, I would have met her sooner. Her strong personality is a minor flaw. Lock her in the bedroom, and it can be corrected somehow. Hey, Seth, you have something to do.”
“Anything His Highness wishes.”
“You speak like an actor. It’s creepy…”
It was indeed a chilling conversation.
Even while eating Ellie’s food, Edmund couldn’t hide his disgust, and neither could Ban.
“They say the Duke of McClure is here too. Can you find him, Eddie?”
“I don’t even know the guy’s face. Damn Maurice, at least give a hint… I could annihilate him instead.”
“Restrain yourself, unless you want to start a war.”
Where McClure and Seth Hastings were seated, there was a high chance Ellie would appear. Ban and Edmund prepared to bolt if necessary while sampling the desserts.
The desserts were met with great enthusiasm.
The sweetness and softness of custard pudding, and its unique texture, drew constant exclamations.
People laughed after biting into chewy pavé chocolate that blackened their teeth and lips. Cute chocolate muffins received cheers from those familiar with regular muffins. Inside, tangy dried fruits added a lively flavor.
“This deserves fame! Incredible taste!”
“Especially this cold, sweet ice cream… it tastes like milk, but how is it so delicious?”
“Paired with dense brownies, it’s insane…!”
“And this pretty chocolate fondue? Coating fruit in sweet chocolate solidifies quickly. Every bite bursts with sweetness and tartness. It’s miraculous…”
People who normally calculated others’ worth seriously now cheered like children.
This was the power of a new flavor.
“Our Ellie really is amazing.”
Edmund and Ban smiled unconsciously. Ellie’s sullen face brought happiness to others. She deserved to be recognized for her abilities and treated better.
“She’s not someone who should hide. She should be more confident.”
Edmund seemed to include Ellie in his protection. Ban, having seen the aftermath of experiments he endured, understood why Edmund treated Ellie almost reverently.
It wasn’t love but a purer, more perfect emotion.
Ban felt differently.
He found Ellie cute and appreciated her. He wanted to get closer and take care of her. Having received so much from her, he wanted to return it. He wished her immense happiness. If it were possible, he felt he could do anything for her.
It wasn’t love, but it was certainly friendship.
Ban believed friendship was the most beautiful emotion humans could have for each other.
Love brought lust, possessiveness, and jealousy—dark emotions exposing ugliness within.
He could confidently say: if he had fallen in love with Ellie, he would have wanted to keep her away from Maurice or Edmund, locked somewhere only he could see.
Edmund probably felt the same. They shared that flaw. A deficiency.
Love wasn’t the greatest emotion for everyone. For Ban, ideals and beliefs mattered more than love that shook one’s values.
But that was only possible now, when he had found stability.
If Ban, before meeting Ellie—or rather Baguette—had still been trapped by suffocating reality, overbearing family, and a lingering desire for any affection, he would have thrown himself at someone who seemed to fill that void, disregarding beliefs, reason, or morality.
Only after stepping out of the fishbowl and breathing freely did he realize where he had been.
Then, someone appeared at the head table. Ban and Edmund instinctively looked.
A man with long black hair appeared, bringing Ellie dressed in a black chef’s uniform. Someone swallowed audibly. Ban carefully watched that direction.
“Allow me to introduce the creator of Cookie Walking you just tasted. She’s brought me the most joy lately, and I intend to continue supporting and endorsing her. Ellie, please greet them.”
“I hope the desserts pleased your palate. I’m Ellie of Cookie Walking.”
Ellie’s face was stiff, but she greeted smoothly. She bowed, then, noticing Demian’s gaze, gave a graceful curtsey.
Though a woman in chef’s attire might seem awkward, no one present could challenge Ellie, carrying the beaming Demian on her back.
Amidst a thunderous applause, the Duke of McClure stood from his seat.
