The Shadow Chef: Seven Days Cal and Pecorine Never Knew - The Seven-Day Soup — Sleepless Nights and Fading Words

The sound of a knife echoed through the kitchen at night. Gourmet Guild—a royal research facility and dining hall that fused cooking with alchemy, situated on the border between the lower town and the commercial district of the royal capital, Soleil. With business hours over and most of the staff gone home, the kitchen was silent, as if the daytime clamor had been a lie. Saren stood alone before the prep counter. Her sunset-colored long hair was loosely braided, and her figure, wrapped in a white apron dress, was delicate and slender. A build too thin for a cook—that was what Pecorine, the director, always worried about. Even so, there was no wasted motion in her hands. (Yuuki collapsed. It's been a full day now.) She murmured it in her heart. Yesterday, Yuuki—the sub-leader and head chef of Gourmet Guild—had collapsed in this very kitchen. Overwork and malnutrition. He was the kind of person who took care of everyone, who was kind to a fault, who always put himself last. The man who laughed and called the entire staff his family, the heart of this place—he'd been lying on the cold floor. Every time Saren remembered that sight, a tight, squeezing sensation seized the depths of her chest. (If only I'd noticed sooner.) The same regret circled through her mind, over and over. Yuuki was sleeping now in the infirmary on the second floor. A nurse dispatched from the affiliated Mirabel Clinic had examined him and said recovery would take seven days. Fortunately, thanks to the restorative food enhanced with thought-conduction alchemy, he was recovering steadily. But he needed absolute rest. For a while, someone would have to stay by his side. Pecorine had assigned Saren to handle the restorative meals. "Saren, could I ask you to take care of Yuuki's recovery meals?" Pecorine's bright voice echoed in the back of her mind. "I think your thought-conduction alchemy is what suits Yuuki best." Thought-conduction alchemy—a technique that used one's feelings as a catalyst to dramatically boost the nutritional value and efficacy of ingredients. It was Gourmet Guild's signature craft, and only about five hundred people across the entire country could use it. Among them, Saren had a particular gift for imbuing her cooking with the most delicate of feelings. (If my feelings can help Yuuki.) Saren picked up a carrot from the cutting board. Vivid orange. She peeled it and sliced it thin. The rhythm of the knife striking the board was steady as a lullaby. —But her hand was trembling, just slightly. She had barely slept the night before. The shock of Yuuki's collapse, the frustration at herself, and the regret that she should have noticed sooner—they spun round and round in her head without stopping. (I don't need to sleep. I'm the one who's going to protect Yuuki.) Saren told herself that. The silver bracelet on her left wrist—one of the thought-conduction cooking tools, used to channel feelings into food—was faintly warm. Saren dropped the sliced carrots into the pot. Onion, celery, chicken wings. And then the small star-shaped pasta that Yuuki had once said he liked. (This is the soup that will make Yuuki well again.) Saren poured water into the pot and set it on the flame. Steam rose, wisp by wisp. As she stirred gently with a wooden spatula, she pictured Yuuki's face in her mind. His smiling face. His troubled face. His serious face. His morning face with bedhead. (Yuuki, please wait for me.) A faint golden light began to seep from her fingertips. It was the light of thought-conduction alchemy. Saren's feelings dramatically elevated the nutritional value of the ingredients, transforming the dish into one with the power to speed a sick person's recovery. The golden light dissolved into the soup in the pot. The soup glowed faintly gold. —And yet, that light seemed just a little weaker than it had been the night before. (Am I imagining it?) Saren tilted her head. (I'm just tired. It's fine.) She moved the wooden spatula again. Morning came. The accounting office on the second floor of Gourmet Guild. Morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting the ledgers on the desk in pale white. Kyaru was alone, wrestling with the books. Her straight black hair was cut in a blunt bob, with red ribbons tied at either side. Her cat-like almond-shaped blue eyes tracked the rows of numbers. A single tuft of hair sticking up from the top of her head stood proud as ever today. "Haah..." Kyaru let out a deep sigh. Entrusted with Gourmet Guild's accounting, Kyaru was good with numbers. But it wasn't just innate talent. Truth was, she was a hard worker who did arithmetic drills every single night without fail. (Tight again this month.) Kyaru ran the numbers in her head as her pen moved. Since Gourmet Guild had been designated a Royal Thought-Conduction Culinary Research Institute, its finances had stabilized. Even so, factoring in ingredient costs, labor, and research expenses, they couldn't exactly call it comfortable. (That idiot Yuuki. If you collapse, who's supposed to run the kitchen?) Kyaru cursed him inwardly. Yuuki had collapsed from overwork and malnutrition. He was too caring, always putting himself last. He never noticed when he'd hit his limit. Kyaru knew that side of him all too well. (That's why I told him. Take a break.) Kyaru set down her pen and looked out the window. From the direction of the kitchen, she could hear the sound of a knife. Steady, unchanging rhythm. (Wait, Saren?) Kyaru stood up. Clutching the ledger, she left the accounting office. She walked down the corridor and stood at the kitchen entrance. "...What the hell is that?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. Inside the kitchen, Saren was doing an enormous amount of prep work all by herself. On the cutting board, a mountain of vegetables. Carrots, onions, potatoes, celery, cabbage. Saren was chopping them all—calmly, but at an astonishing speed. (That amount—it's at least three times the usual.) Kyaru couldn't believe her eyes. Saren was Gourmet Guild's kitchen assistant and purchasing manager. Her cooking skill was second to none in the Guild, but normally she was the quiet type—understated, not the kind to stand out. And here she was, alone, handling all of that. (And those dark circles under her eyes...) Saren's face was pale, and deep shadows ringed her eyes. She was clearly sleep-deprived. (Her fingertips... are they glowing?) Kyaru noticed a faint golden light lingering at Saren's fingertips. It shimmered faintly in the morning sun. (The light of thought-conduction alchemy... but can someone keep that up for that long?) A small unease stirred in the depths of Kyaru's chest. "Saren." Kyaru stepped into the kitchen. Saren looked up. Her amber eyes found Kyaru. "Kyaru. Good morning." Saren's voice was quiet and soft, as always. "...Morning." Kyaru glanced at Saren's hands. The mountain of chopped vegetables. And Saren's fingertips. "How long have you been at this?" "Since morning. Today's prep, and the prep for Yuuki's recovery meals." Saren answered without stopping her hands. "Since morning... it's not even nine yet. You were here late last night too, weren't you?" "...Yes, well." Her reply was evasive. Kyaru stared at Saren's face. (You care about Yuuki that much?) The words rose to her throat. But for some reason, she couldn't say them aloud. "...Take a break. If you collapse, what's the point?" That was what she said instead. "I'm fine. I'm just doing what's expected of me as the kitchen assistant." Saren shook her head quietly. (There it is again.) Kyaru clicked her tongue inwardly. Saren was always like this. She moved in silence for someone else's sake. She put herself last. (You're just like Yuuki.) That was what Kyaru thought. "...I'll help too." Kyaru set the ledger on a nearby shelf. "Huh? But your accounting work—" "If I leave you to do it all alone, you're the one who'll collapse. Besides, even I can make Yuuki's recovery food." Kyaru grabbed an apron. "Kyaru..." "I said it's fine. You sit down for a bit." Kyaru steered Saren away from the counter, leaving no room for argument. (What am I even doing?) Kyaru muttered inwardly. (It's not like I'm worried about Saren. It's just that if she collapses, the kitchen won't run. That's all.) She told herself that. Past noon. Kyaru was heading to the infirmary on the second floor with Kokkoro, the head server. In her hands was a tray. On it sat the recovery soup Saren had made. The golden soup still glowed faintly, even after cooling. "Kyaru, do you think Saren is all right?" Kokkoro said, looking worried. Her light pink medium-length hair was tied in two at the sides of her head, adorned with white ribbons. Her large, pale green eyes wavered. "Who knows. That stubbornness of hers is just like Yuuki." Kyaru answered with a sigh. "Saren seemed to have barely slept last night as well. The shadows under her eyes were terrible..." Kokkoro's voice was faint. "...You really notice everything, don't you." Kyaru looked at Kokkoro's face. Kokkoro had an extraordinary ability to read the room. She had long since sensed the delicate dynamic between Saren and Kyaru. But she never said it aloud—she simply moved between the two of them, quietly supporting them both. (This girl really does see everything.) Kyaru thought so. She opened the infirmary door. Yuuki lay sleeping on the white bed. Short brown hair. His bangs were slightly mussed. Deep shadows under his closed eyes. His complexion was still a little pale. "Yuuki, I've brought you some soup." Kokkoro called softly. No response. Yuuki was deep in sleep. "...Still not waking up, huh." Kyaru set the tray beside the bed. "The doctor said it will be about six more days before he regains consciousness." Kokkoro said quietly. "Six days... that's long." Kyaru looked down at Yuuki's sleeping face. (You're always like this. Pushing yourself, pushing yourself, never noticing when you've hit your limit.) A hot something spread slowly through the depths of Kyaru's chest. (If only I'd noticed sooner.) Kyaru bit her lip. That was when it happened. "...Saren..." A faint voice escaped Yuuki's lips. "What?" Kyaru couldn't believe her ears. "Saren..." Yuuki murmured again. A fevered delusion. (Saren? Why Saren's name?) A sharp thorn pierced Kyaru's chest. It stung. (Yuuki is calling Saren's name.) Kyaru felt something dark spreading inside her heart. (...What is that supposed to mean?) Kyaru stared at Yuuki's face. Yuuki furrowed his brow in pain, then returned to quiet, even breathing. "...Kyaru?" Kokkoro peered worriedly into Kyaru's face. "...It's nothing. I'm just a little thirsty." Kyaru forced a smile. (What am I getting so shaken up about?) She told herself inwardly. (It doesn't matter to me whose name Yuuki calls.) Right. It didn't matter. And yet, the thorn in her chest wouldn't come out. Just then, the infirmary door opened. "...Excuse me." Saren stood there. In her hands were a small towel and a water pitcher. "Saren." "I thought I'd wipe down Yuuki's sweat. And bring some water, too." Saren approached the bed quietly. Kyaru looked at Saren's face. (She was just in the kitchen—she came here already?) Saren's face was pale as ever, and the shadows under her eyes looked even darker than they had that morning. Saren gently placed her hand on Yuuki's forehead. "...His fever seems to have gone down a little." Saren let out a small breath of relief. —And that was when it happened. On the back of Saren's left hand, a golden pattern surfaced. An intricate geometric design. Lines of light blazed clearly on Saren's skin for a single instant. "...!" Saren hurriedly hid her left hand. But it was too late. Kyaru had clearly seen that pattern. (What was that?) Kyaru's heart lurched. (That's not the lig

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Episode 2

Name: The Shadow Chef: Seven Days Cal and Pecorine Never Knew
Author: Novelia

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