Alphonse's words from last night were still clinging to the corner of her mind. "You don't have to assume you must bear everything alone." Elena traced the edge of the ledger with her finger. After her magical power and willpower had both bottomed out last night, for some reason she had written down only that single line clearly. The handwriting trembled slightly. The bandage on her right hand's fingers had become two by this morning. "...How irritating," Elena muttered quietly, closing the ledger with a snap. Before dawn, the Moonlit Pavilion was illuminated only by faint magical lamps casting soft light. The stone-paved streets of the royal capital Blanche were still shrouded in morning mist. The smell of the Aedel River drifted in on the breeze, and somewhere distant, a cargo wagon's wheels creaked. Today was a special day. Five members of parliament, led by Count Dort—the conservative faction's leading figure in the Jade Round Table—would be coming to this shop under the pretense of an "inspection." The Jade Round Table was the legislative assembly composed of the twelve highest noble families of the Fleuresia Kingdom. In other words, the country's important old men were gathering to "examine whether this shop is problematic." The prediction that they would quickly issue a business suspension order and leave had transformed into certainty after yesterday's ledger review. Elena spread out parchment. It was the "Parliamentary Client Service Simulation" she had created overnight. Based on information pulled from her game memories, it contained the preferences and corresponding strategies for each of the five men. It was a painstaking countermeasure table combining her previous world's office worker experience with this world's aristocratic society knowledge. "Count Dort—dislikes sweets, struggles with coffee, but tends to favor cheese-based items. Approach: Don't serve coffee initially." Elena confirmed the parchment while checking the cooling magic circle—a technique carved into the floor that allowed her to control temperature in 0.5-degree increments using her internal magical power—which she had adjusted countless times since last night to create the perfect pudding. The caramel color was exquisite. It had been burned to exactly the right degree at 127 degrees. "Good," Elena said to herself. She would accomplish everything alone. That was all. The moment that thought crossed her mind—voices came from the back entrance. Three voices, simultaneously. "Miss Violet, we've brought provisions—" "Miss Violet! I've arrived as your guard, bringing six subordinates—" "Additional parchment for experiments—" Elena closed her eyes. Three seconds of deep breathing. When she opened the door, it was exactly as expected. Alphonse stood on the right, his golden hair gleaming as he clutched a package. His face, which broke into dimples when he smiled, was brightening at this very moment. On the left was Sebastian with his long silver hair swaying, and behind him stood six armored knights in perfect formation. And Leon, holding a stack of parchment to his chest, his black hair with a single red streak flowing as he regarded all three with cold eyes over his glasses. The three men looked at each other. "Why are you here?" Alphonse asked. "Why is Your Highness here?" Sebastian asked. "Why are both of you here?" Leon asked. Three voices overlapped. Three gazes collided. Elena slowly began to close the door. Three feet simultaneously wedged themselves in the threshold. "All of you are in the way," Elena said as quietly as possible, but with absolute clarity. "Subordinates, forward!" Sebastian commanded. The six knights stepped forward with a thunderous stomp. It was a waiting stance. Every last one of them began stamping their feet with full force. Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!!! The stone pavement trembled. The Moonlit Pavilion swayed slightly. The second-floor window of the neighboring house rattled. "—An earthquake!?" Martha, the elderly woman living next door, poked her face out the window. Her white-haired, gentle face was now pale. "At ease———!!" Sebastian shouted at full volume. The six knights stopped instantly. Silence returned. "It's not an earthquake," Elena said to the elderly neighbor. She started to continue with "The knight commander was just stamping his feet," but decided against it. It made no sense. The old woman gave Sebastian a withering stare. Sebastian saluted frantically, saying "I-I sincerely apologize!" The old woman said nothing and closed her window. Elena looked at the three men in turn. "...Please come inside. I would appreciate it if you didn't cause any more disturbances," Elena said. ─── About an hour before the parliament members arrived, the kitchen had become a quiet battlefield. Elena was putting the final touches on the pudding. This step required precise control of temperature magic. She used her magical power bit by bit, maintaining a 4-degree chill. She evened out the caramel surface and finished the pudding body smoothly. One plate at a time, carefully. From last night through this morning, she had been using magic repeatedly. The toll came the moment she tried to finish the last plate. Her knees lost their strength. She gripped the counter. Her internal magical power reserves were approaching their limit. A light dizziness came over her, and the edges of her vision blurred slightly. Her body was signaling magical power depletion—the moment she recognized this. Large hands grasped both her shoulders from behind. It was Alphonse. Elena's back fit snugly against his broad chest. "Don't push yourself," he said, his low voice falling right beside her ear. The warmth of his breath reached her neck. Elena's pulse—completely independent of her will—jumped once, hard. Alphonse's body heat transmitted from her shoulders to her back. Definite warmth through soft fabric. The lingering heat she felt on her neck wouldn't fade. (This is definitely autonomic nervous system malfunction due to magical power depletion. Diagnosis confirmed. No objections. Trial not accepted.) Elena rendered her diagnosis 0.3 seconds before— "The spicy components in ultra-spicy ramen promote blood circulation! Isn't it optimal for magical power recovery!? Now is the perfect opportunity for a taste test!!!!" Sebastian's voice came flying from the side with full force, shattering the kitchen's atmosphere. "Not now," Alphonse replied immediately. His voice was low. Unusually so. "Direct magical power supply through physical contact is the most efficient method," Leon said, entering while adjusting his glasses. With one red streak in his jet-black short hair, he opened his notebook and spoke in a businesslike tone. He reached for Elena's right hand. "I'm already supporting her," Alphonse said quietly but clearly. "Emotions should be written in papers. Right now, efficiency is—" Leon began. "Ultra-spicy soup would actually promote body recovery through sugar supplementation and perspiration—" Sebastian continued. "You're the most in the way," Leon said to Sebastian. Emotion was seeping into his voice, rare for him. "Why me!!" Sebastian protested. Voices came flying from three directions. Elena slowly placed both hands on the counter and steadied herself. The dizziness receded somewhat. "Everyone, please leave," Elena said quietly. The three men fell silent. "I need to finish the pudding. Please let me concentrate," Elena said. The three men shuffled out toward the dining area one by one. Sebastian muttered "The ultra-spicy soup is always ready" as he left. Leon left while writing something in his notebook. Alphonse turned back once at the end. He said nothing. The door closed. Elena remained alone in the kitchen, hands still on the counter, unable to move for several seconds. The memory of Alphonse's body heat lingered on her back. That lingering warmth she'd felt on her neck. Even though she wasn't trying to think about it, it wouldn't fade. Elena touched her own wrist. She checked the temperature of her fingertips. It seemed slightly elevated. (Body temperature rise after magical power use. Diagnosis is confirmed.) The speed of her diagnosis was half a beat slower than usual today. Elena ground coffee beans in a mill while unconsciously touching her neck. She noticed herself doing it and stopped her hand. She had to finish the pudding. For some reason, the words she wanted to write in the ledger today wouldn't come to her. It felt like she didn't want to put them into words. This was the first time that had happened, though Elena didn't acknowledge it, carefully finishing the last plate. ─── They arrived an hour later. When the Moonlit Pavilion's door opened, Elena was standing facing the entrance. At the front stood a man in his sixties with a neatly trimmed white beard. Deep wrinkles were carved between his eyebrows, wrinkles that seemed to have been there since birth. Count Dort—the conservative faction's leading figure in the Jade Round Table. In the game, he was one of the few characters described as "an obstacle to be overcome." He was of medium build, his black formal wear adorned with golden insignia. Four more parliament members followed behind. All of them wore expressions that read "Why is a marquis's daughter in a place like this?" "It's cramped," Count Dort said. "It's dim," he continued. "It's shabby," he added further. Elena recorded the three-combo in her internal ledger. "Initial three-comment combo, as predicted," she wrote, then guided them to their seats with a perfectly expressionless face. When five people sat in a shop with only twelve seats, it was certainly a bit tight. But it was clean, it smelled of wood, and soft magical lamp light fell across it—Elena thought it wasn't a bad space at all. As the parliament members reluctantly began picking up their forks, Elena carefully carried out each plate. She didn't serve coffee to Count Dort. It was according to her strategy table. She brought out cheese-based scones and seasonal fruit compote first. One of the parliament members couldniously murmured, "This is..." And then she brought out the pudding. Five plates. Each one her very best. 127-degree caramel, 4-degree body. Finished with her intermediate-level magic, today's finest work. Count Dort looked at the pudding plate. "Commoner's confectionery," he said. Then—he knocked the plate off the table with his hand. Crash!!!! The plate shattered on the stone floor. Caramel scattered. White pudding spread across the Moonlit Pavilion's stone pavement. "A marquis's daughter overstepping her—" Count Dort began. Before those words could continue, the silence of the Moonlit Pavilion moved. From the corner of the dining area, cloth fell away. Golden hair appeared. Alphonse stood quietly, removing his disguise as a regular customer, revealing the face of the First Prince as he looked at Count Dort. The five parliament members lifted themselves from their chairs. "Y-Your Highness!?" their voices overlapped. Sebastian stepped forward from the entrance. The knight commander's hand went to his sword belt, standing directly in front of Count Dort. His silver hair swayed. His hand was on the hilt, but he hadn't drawn the blade yet. At the edge of the counter, Leon adjusted his glasses. He opened his parchment with a flutter. He spoke in a quiet voice. "The Moonlit Pavilion's cooling magic technology is registered as a subject for academic inspection by the Royal Magic Academy—the Crown's direct magical research institution. More precisely, as part of research materials regarding precision control in temperature manipulation magic," Leon said. After a pause, he continued. "A business suspension order would potentially violate Magical Academy Regulation Article Seventeen—the clause prohibiting interference with research activities. Please submit any objections in p