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“Care for a drink?”

Cestlavie expressed his gratitude as he accepted the copper cup filled with ade—by the way, when fruit juice is squeezed directly, it’s called juice, but when it’s processed by diluting it with water or other means, it’s distinctly referred to as ade.

The citrus ade, which would be too sour and cloying on its own, was pleasantly diluted, providing a good mouthfeel. Was it chilled by ice or magic? The cold beverage was refreshing. As he downed about half of the cup in one go, a white palm was extended in front of him wordlessly.

“—?”
“It’s five copper coins. Also, please return the cup after you finish drinking as we wash and reuse them.”
“I thought this was for courtesy?!”

The white cat beastwoman faced the frowning Cestlavie shamelessly and spoke; “Never said it was. I only showed you one of our products and asked if you’d care for a drink.” She shoved her outstretched hand to Cestlavie’s face.

“—tsk.”

He clicked his tongue and fished out several copper coins.

“Thanks… I appreciate your patronage as always.”

With impeccable courtesy, she uttered these words and then settled down next to the fountain where he was sitting as if it were a bench.

“…what?”
“What do you mean what? —Ah, I have zero interest in you, so please don’t get any weird ideas. The boss just asked me to keep you company since it seems like you have something to talk about.”

Glancing briefly at the peddler trying to sell weird merchandise relating to the story —such as “picture of the Child Prodigy’s skull when he was six,” “an authentic autograph of a certain noble princess,” and “char siu made from the meat of an orc (this one’s real)”— the peddler caught on him right away and waved his hand as if to say “Leave it to her.”

“…I’m here to negotiate with your boss.”
“You don’t know your place, do you? Besides your fabricated reputation, what makes you think a greenhorn like you, without any backing or assets, can possibly negotiate directly with the boss? At the very least, you must be a high-ranking cardinal or a nobleman at the rank equal to a marquis, or a wealthy property owner capable of preparing liquid assets equivalent to a single prism coin, that’s 100,000 times the value of a gold coin for you, before you’re even considered a suitable negotiation candidate. That’s the kind of person our boss deals with.”

Expressionless yet speaking with undeniable confidence, the girl asserted her position.

Normally, if Jill were here, there might have been a comment or two in response to her pretentious behavior, contrary to her usual casual attitude. However, without that context, Cestlavie could only let out a frustrated groan deep in his throat and swiftly downed the remaining citrus ade in his cup.

“…fine. You’ll do.”

Though inwardly disheartened by the seemingly exclusive nature akin to a high-end restaurant or a district of pleasure, Cestlavie, realizing this was the best he could hope for, reluctantly nodded, meeting the other’s gaze.

“I’m glad you understand. And please, I prefer not to be referred to as ‘you.’ I’m Chaton, so whether it’s ‘Miss Chaton,’ ‘Professor Chaton,’ or ‘Your Majesty Chaton,’ feel free to address me with proper respect.”

Ignoring Chaton’s eccentricities, Cestlavie casually returned the empty cup. Chaton, taking the cup without a word, glanced briefly at the pig-like creature in a maid’s outfit behind him, emitting a low grunt as if being alert of Cestlavie.

“Mille, go and wash the cup.”

The instructed orc, still a mere 120 cm tall, approached with a disgruntled air, exhaling heavily onto Cestlavie while baring its teeth. It then took the cup, stomping away with heavy footsteps.

“…Don’t tell me, that female orc is—”
“Tell you what, yes, that’s what’s come of the Orc Princess. You shaved off the majority of its mana, so it’s reduced to that state.”

“I thought so,” muttered Cestlavie as he scratched his unruly hair.

“I could easily tame it once it’s become like that, so now it’s registered as my familiar. We changed the name to Millefeuille while at it. By the way, the one who named it was the busty princess. Personally, I suggested ‘Escalope,’ but the boss was pushing for Fillet-Cut,” Chaton explained, both names being horribly food-related.

“Come to think of it, I heard you took care of the riffraff after I unleashed my final move. I appreciate that,” the young priest said, unexpectedly bowing his head.

Chaton blinked slowly, observing the area around his unruly hair with an expressionless face. Perhaps she didn’t expect the priest would have it in him to say his thanks.

“If you want to thank someone, you should thank that princess. Apparently, she freaked out when she saw you covered in blood and, despite being in a pinch herself, she freed herself from her binding — apparently, she dislocated her joints and put them back together, all by herself. Do all princesses out there have skills like a rogue thief? — Anyway, she rushed back to the scene on her own.”

“Also, the boss said you defeated the Leader on your own, so the job’s done,” added Chaton.

“I’m only helping the princess since she said she’s hiring me for 20 gold coins.”
“…I see. Well, it doesn’t change the fact that you saved me. You also healed me from such a heavy injury, so let me express my gratitude. The Amrita you used on me must’ve been fairly expensive. It was as if a high-ranking Healing Art practitioner healed me, I made a full recovery.”
“You have the princess to thank for that as well.”

Speaking of which, it was not Amrita, but an actual high-ranking Healing Art—but Chaton kept that to herself.

(Both the princess and boss told me to keep it shut, so I don’t see why I should tell him that.)

“I see. I’ll have to find a chance to repay the favor properly. …Either way, I want to make a deal with ‘Silhouette’ who claims to control the world’s darkness.”
“—Hah! Are you seriously buying into such a fairy tale? Ridiculous. Besides, even if such a person actually exists, as I said earlier, we don’t see any benefit in lending you power.”

As Chaton shrugged her shoulders, “Come one, come all, buy my little banana! Though it may seem a bit dark on the outside, once you peel it, it’s as fair as snow. Shiny on both sides. Any good gentleman who buys this kind of banana will end up as a doctor, a minister, or if you’re in a youth group, the leader—”

Cestlavie shifted his gaze towards the peddler who was eloquently selling bananas. He remained silent, his furrowed brows suggesting he might be fundamentally misunderstanding something.

Author’s Note:

Escalope is a Hokkaido food, while Fillet-Cuts (Herekatsu) is kansai food ( ´(00)`)