Chapter 100

Konde-rōn

◆4-12 Complaints

I return to Gilbert's house, where I have been staying. After walking around unnecessarily for a long time, the sun is starting to set. It's still a bit early for evening, though.

As I try to open the front door... hmm? This door feels a bit heavy, doesn't it? I could just yank it open, but to avoid the punchline of it being a push door when I thought it was a pull door, I'll try pushing it first. I also check to see if it slides sideways.

"Stop making so much noise. I'll open it, so wait a moment!"

From the other side of the stubborn door, I hear Gilbert's voice.

Soon, the sound of a key turning is heard, and the door slowly moves.

"Are you unfamiliar with door knockers?"

"Door knockers...? Oh, this thing?"

This metal ring attached to the door is called a door knocker. I've always called it "a ring that a lion is likely to hold in its mouth."

There aren't many opportunities to use it. At my place, the servants handle visitors first, and when I visit others... I haven't really been to many people's houses, so I don't remember using it.

I'll remember the door knocker. Gilbert, who sees me getting a bit smarter, fiddles with the key while holding the door open.

"Should I tell you why the front door was locked? This is called a key."

"I didn't think it was locked."

Keys, huh? There's such a device. I almost broke it and entered by force.

This might be something unique to the nobility. Since servants live in the mansion, there's no habit of locking doors. Private rooms are... to prevent accidental damage, they are not locked.

That's why. I had no concept of a device that hinders the opening and closing of doors and requires a dedicated terminal to unlock from the outside.

He looks at me as if I'm something unbelievable.

"Are you serious?"

"In the area where I live, there are no houses that lock their doors."

"I see, such places do exist."

Gilbert accepts it easily.

By the way, in my previous life in Japan, the place I lived wasn't that rural. It wasn't urban, but we definitely locked our doors. Places that don't lock their doors become targets for burglars from other areas, so now there are campaigns to encourage locking doors.

As I consider adding the rural aspect to my false identity, Gilbert turns and heads deeper into the house. I follow, close the front door, and lock it firmly.

I follow Gilbert aimlessly.

We proceed to the back of the first floor... it looks like the kitchen. There are no visible ingredients, but there is a magic stove.

As I observe the kitchen, which has no sense of lived-in life, from a bit behind, he says without turning around.

"By any chance, did you not lock your room last night either?"

"Yes, I didn't."

Then Gilbert sighs heavily, looks at me, and says in a voice mixed with exasperation and kindness.

"You should have a bit more sense of crisis. By the time you enter a stranger's house, it might be too late..."

"What do you mean by 'sense of crisis'?"

"If I were a bad man, I could do anything to you. Country girl."

"I see. I'm a weak, helpless girl who can't match a man's strength. Crisis management is important, isn't it?"

"Exactly."

It was a well-formed conversation, but there's a sense of something off or lacking. It seems to be a mutual understanding, as he, who just nodded, is also tilting his head.

It feels like it would be more satisfying if there was one more person here... but who is missing? It would be awkward if there was an unknown person, and it would be awkward if it was just one of us knowing the other. Gilbert and I don't have any mutual acquaintances.

Ignoring the mysterious discomfort, I observe the kitchen.

Peeking into a wooden box carelessly placed, I see hard bread wrapped in paper. There are a few more similar boxes, but their lids are closed, so I can't see what's inside.

"Is this all preserved food?"

"Yes. Help yourself... didn't you eat anything since last night?"

"...I guess not."

I was told to help myself, but I can't just open someone's refrigerator. After breaking through the roof, it's a bit late, but I was planning to explore the house while Gilbert was away.

However, I'm not that hungry. It hasn't been a full day since my last meal. My base metabolism might increase with level-ups, but I have a higher tolerance for thirst and hunger.

So, I had no intention of eating the not-so-delicious preserved food. Ah, if I made it myself, it would be much better.

"You don't have to be polite."

"It's not about being polite, I'm just not hungry..."

"...I see. I'm about to have dinner. Would you like to join me?"

I feel bad for making him go out of his way. He's usually quite kind.

It would be awkward to refuse, so I'll join him.

As I think about helping with the preparation, he takes out two flat wooden plates and hands one to me.

"Take what you want to eat and put it on this plate."

This is a rare all-you-can-eat buffet with no enthusiasm.

Following Gilbert's example, I put the stored ingredients on my plate.

Hard bread, pickles that are already too sour from the smell, and once again, hard dried meat. These three items. Both Gilbert and I go for all three.

There are four chairs at the dining table, which seems out of place in a typical household. We sit across from each other.

Two servings of preserved food are placed on the table, along with glasses and a water pitcher. It's not quite evening, and the room is a bit dark, but not dark enough to turn on the lights. The atmosphere is not one of a pleasant meal.

"Itadakimasu."

First, I take a bite of the hard bread. It's more like a biscuit that isn't sweet, or hardtack... I realize how delicious the hardtack in Japan was. I miss the one with a bagpipe on the package and candy inside.

I chew a small piece and moisten it in my mouth. The more I chew, the more the moisture in my mouth is taken away, and I can't help but drink water.

I notice that Gilbert is silently putting bread in his mouth.

"Is it delicious?"

"Average. How about you?"

I can't honestly say it's bad... I can't say it's delicious even if my mouth were to split, and it's hard to say it's average. My ability to describe mediocre food as delicious is being tested.

"When I was a child, I found a cave and went inside. It was cool and comfortable in the summer, so I lay down. I rolled around on the rocks and ended up in a puddle, getting my clothes muddy... It's like the taste when I was washing my clothes in the river..."

Hmm? Am I not good at food reviews? I'm trembling at the hidden talent I've discovered, and Gilbert, after thinking for a while with a serious face, says:

"Is this... definitely a bad taste?"

"I tried to describe the good part... don't you understand?"

He thinks silently again. During this time, we continue to chew the bread in our mouths.

After a while of silence, Gilbert finally speaks.

"You said you ran away from home, didn't you?"

The topic was clearly changed. Well, it's fine. I can explain the situation to some extent.

Then, a normal conversation begins.

"I really did run away. I had an argument with my fiancé, or rather, a disagreement about the wedding."

"To the point of moving through the roof. I thought there must be some extraordinary reason... but it was just a lovers' quarrel."

Gilbert spits it out as if it's trivial. No, I don't think it's a lovers' quarrel... but maybe it looks that way from the outside?

He continues, seething with anger.

"I have a relative who has the same issue. They keep bringing up the interruption of the wedding, over and over..."

"Really!? It was interrupted! That's great!"

I want to know how to interrupt a wedding and actually do it.

I smile and my eyes sparkle. ...Ah, on the surface, I'm almost expressionless. Recently, I almost forget, but my facial muscles are still dead. I change my expression normally, and Patrick and Elenora notice the changes, so I almost forget.

"Um? Can you tell me what the argument was about at the wedding?"

"I suggested canceling or having a small one, but my fiancé insisted on a grand one and wouldn't listen..."

"...I see, there are women like you. I'm sorry, I misunderstood."

Gilbert says, looking embarrassed. Ah, he thought it was the opposite. The image is that women often have strong preferences for weddings.

"Why was your relative's wedding interrupted? I want to know for future reference."

"During the ceremony, a large group of uninvited guests stormed in. It happened before I was born."

A large group of uninvited guests... It seems difficult to recreate intentionally.

Even if they came, the Dorkness family's servants would probably drive them away with all their might. I or Patrick would have to go on a business trip... like the military? Monsters would be good too.

Inviting them under the pretense of a wedding and blowing a whistle... Hmm, I would need something like what the Duke of Hillroze used. Using a monster-summoning whistle of normal size in the city wouldn't summon any monsters.

"Thank you. I'll take it into consideration."

"But... why do you dislike weddings so much?"

It's because they're troublesome, of course... I stop myself from saying it.

Until a few days ago, I hadn't even considered forcibly canceling a wedding. The trigger was definitely...

"My fiancé has an older brother who said he wouldn't attend the wedding..."

"What's that? Not celebrating his brother's departure? What kind of brother is that?"

Gilbert's tone becomes slightly stronger. I remember, he has a younger brother. As a brother, he couldn't stand Patrick's older brother.

"He's going to be my brother-in-law, but he doesn't seem to like me much."

"Did you have a disagreement with him?"

"Never. I've never met him. But he seems to have heard bad rumors about me..."

"Believing rumors without question, that brother doesn't seem to be a good person. No matter what rumors are spread, he would know they're false if he met you directly."

He quietly fumes as if it's his own issue.

I'm glad he trusts me enough to call the rumors false, even though I only said they were bad.

The conversation got heated. I shouldn't talk too much and slip up, so I return to eating.

I've only taken a few bites of the bread. Eating this tasteless lump of flour is painful, so I pick up the dried meat.

It's more like jerky. I use my jaw strength to bite through the dried meat, which is several times harder than I imagined. It's not just salty, it's overly salty. I can't taste any meat flavor, and it feels like a lump of rock salt in my mouth.

It's also hard. I have to moisten it in my mouth to swallow. The excessive salt intake makes my throat extremely dry. I drink my second glass of water.

"Your jaw strength is impressive."

"...I don't eat soft things like city people."

Phew. I almost revealed my true strength. Using my rural background, I managed to come up with a good excuse.

Ah, I should give my opinion on the taste as a matter of courtesy