| Author: Sasaki Ichiro | Original Source: Syosetu |
| Translator: Mab | English Source: Re:Library |
| Editor(s): Silva | |
So, we ended up splitting into two pairs and exploring the dilapidated mansion that was once a villa. However, we found nothing suspicious nor any traces of the ghost we were looking for. We regrouped in the entrance hall at the appointed time.
“In a haunted house exploration like this…usually someone would suddenly disappear from the group or there would be mysterious glowing traces left behind. This is so dull; there’s no excitement at all,” I remarked candidly.
“Literally what are you talking about?” Cestlavie retorted coldly.
Setting that aside, we decided to compare our reconnaissance results. Bruno and Cestlavie shared theirs first.
“There were no signs of people anywhere. There were some footprints from broken windows, but judging by their size, they were probably from men, gawkers who came after hearing the ghost rumors I think.”
“No lingering thoughts or anything of the sort. At least in the past twenty to thirty years, it doesn’t seem like anyone has died in this mansion.”
“It was the same on our side. Other than things that can’t be carried like shelves and magical devices that are fixed on their place, everything is picked clean.” The kitchen still had its hearth, oven, and simple cold storage magic devices, but their core magic stones had been removed—although it seemed no one dared to touch the magic stones for the toilet’s washing and disposal system, which was fortunately still functional. “We also checked the slightly distant storage shed, but there were only a few unusable tools and cleaning supplies scattered around.”
“…And that’s why you’re dressed like that.”
Cestlavie gave a light head shake, a mix of understanding and exasperation in his tone, as he looked us up and down. Lynn and I had our sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with ribbons for easier movement, scarves over our mouths as masks, and were armed with brooms and dusters.
“Well, we’re staying in this mansion tonight to wait for the ghost anyway. If we’re going to be here, we might as well clean up and make it a pleasant place to sleep.”
“Is that so? I think it’s unnecessary to go through all that trouble for a one-night stay.”
“…Yeah.”
Cestlavie and Bruno unexpectedly found a common ground.
Hmm, is this just a typical boy’s way of thinking? At the very least, I can’t stand sleeping or eating in a dirty place, so Lynn and I had been diligently cleaning the relatively undamaged dining room to make it usable. Perhaps feeling uncomfortable in a dirty place is more of a feminine instinct.
Even in the animal kingdom, it’s usually the females who stay in the nest for childbirth and childcare, naturally keeping the nest and its surroundings clean as part of their instincts. Now that I think about it, when I invited Luke into my rather messy personal room, he kept complimenting how “neatly organized” it was. I had brushed it off as mere politeness, but maybe he genuinely meant it.
♦♢♦
The fire flickered and crackled like coral, filling the room with warmth. Luckily, the chimney wasn’t clogged, so after lightly cleaning the brick fireplace, we threw in the firewood left in the storage and some fallen branches from the nearby woods. It revived the room with cozy warmth and a faint orange glow.
Unexpectedly, the day was already fading. I floated a Light ball to the ceiling of the hall, which doubled as a dining room. Then, from my storage, I retrieved a pot and a flask, gave them a quick rinse, filled them with water, and added some pre-cooked meat and vegetables. I measured out some seasonings by eye to prepare a stew.
“As efficient as ever,” Cestlavie commented nostalgically, a smile spreading across his face at the smell of the stew.
Well, when it’s dark, cold, and you’re hungry, it can really get you down. But being in a bright place, warmed by the fire, and surrounded by the smell of food can lift anyone’s spirits.
While I lightly toasted some bread and cheese pies and rehydrated some sausages, Bruno and Cestlavie brought over some disused tables and chairs. Lynn wiped them clean with a cloth so we could use them. By the time they were done, dinner was ready.
Once the food was arranged on the table, everyone naturally took their seats without anyone having to prompt them. We all said grace together (though Cestlavie, being a cleric, did offer a prayer, albeit somewhat perfunctory), and then began our meal.
As I started eating my portion, I observed everyone’s reactions.
“How is it? It’s just something quick and I added a bit more salt since we’ve been active all day. If it’s too salty, try the salad or the bread with raisins.”
“No, it’s delicious! As expected from you, Jill!”
“Is this really just a quick meal? I feel so inadequate because I can’t seem to improve my cooking at all…”
“For most adventurers, a meal on the road means hard bread at best. Dried meat would be considered a treat. There’s no point comparing it to such delicious food.”
““………””
Bruno and Lynn, wide-eyed, stared at Cestlavie, who had casually praised my cooking while reassuring Lynn at the same time. I hoped this would help them see the gentle side of his otherwise awkward demeanor.
After dinner, we had coffee. Recently, I had the chance to chat with the academy’s chairwoman, who treated me to some coffee. Although coffee is on the menu at Letindüte, the coffee beans, which can only be sourced from the south, are quite expensive. They typically arrive via sea routes or teleportation gates, making the supply unstable and the price variable, sometimes rivaling the cost of the finest teas.
I had always wanted to make it more affordable, so during our conversation, I mentioned this to the chairwoman. Thanks to her connections, I managed to secure a stable and cheaper supply route. Additionally, anticipating a larger supply, I switched from the current nel drip method (using a cotton flannel filter, nel being the abbreviation of flannel) to a paper drip method, which we developed after much trial and error. This change made it possible to enjoy coffee easily, even while traveling.
Incidentally, this paper drip method was patented under my name by our butler, Curtiss, and it quickly spread to other countries. Although it wasn’t entirely my achievement, I felt a bit guilty. Nevertheless, I decided to reduce the price of coffee at our shop, hoping to help make coffee more accessible to ordinary households.
