The Shadow Chef: Seven Days Cal and Pecorine Never Knew - I'm not your replacement—a direct confrontation on a night when memories fade away

The Gourmet Guild at night was quiet enough to make the daytime clamor seem like a lie. This building at the border between the lower town and the commercial district of the royal capital Soleil—a royal research facility and dining hall that fused cuisine with alchemy—had closed for business, and with most of the staff gone home, it now sank into deep darkness. The magelights mounted on the corridor walls cast a faint, pale blue glow. Kyaru closed the door to the accounting office and readjusted her grip on the ledger. Her straight black hair fell long down her back, cut in a blunt fringe, with red ribbons tied at either side. Her cat-like almond eyes, a vivid blue-green, stared down the dark corridor ahead. A single cowlick sprouting from the top of her head swayed softly in the night air. (Finally done.) This month's closing had run three hours longer than usual. It was the fourth day since Yuuki had collapsed. Four nights had passed since the Gourmet Guild's head chef and sub-leader had fallen in the kitchen from overwork and malnutrition. Kyaru rubbed her right temple. The rows of numbers still flickered behind her eyelids. (That idiot Yuuki. Thanks to you being out, I'm stuck handling the ledgers too.) She cursed him inwardly. But she wasn't truly angry. Yuuki collapsing wasn't anyone's fault. It was that man's own fault—too kind for his own good, always putting himself last. Kyaru pictured Yuuki's face as he slept on in the infirmary. Short brown hair. A bedhead fringe. Bright brown eyes that narrowed into crescents when he smiled. (Hurry up and wake, would you.) Something in her chest gave a small, sharp ache. Kyaru let out a quiet breath and started walking down the corridor toward her room. —That was when it happened. She noticed a faint light spilling from the direction of the kitchen. (At this hour?) Her feet stopped. The Gourmet Guild's work rules forbade using the kitchen late at night. More precisely, late-night work itself was forbidden. For the sake of staff health, Director Pecorine had laid down the rule strictly. Break it, and it meant a pay cut. Kyaru clutched the ledger tighter. (It can only be her.) A sigh escaped her, inward. Kyaru moved down the corridor toward the kitchen, careful to make no sound. As she drew closer to the kitchen entrance, the air changed. Warm. And there was a faint, sweet fragrance. (Soup...) Recovery food, for Yuuki. Kyaru quietly peered in from the kitchen doorway. —Saren was there. The Gourmet Guild's sub-leader, her sunset-colored long hair loosely braided. A slender figure wrapped in a white apron dress, her back turned. A frame far too thin for a cook, swaying quietly before the prep counter. Saren stood before a pot. With a wooden spatula in hand, she stirred the soup—slowly, slowly. From her hands, a pale golden light leaked out. Kyaru held her breath. (That's—) On the back of Saren's left hand, a golden pattern had surfaced. A geometric design. Lines of light tangled intricately across her skin, flickering like a pulse. And that light was dissolving into the soup in the pot. The surface of the soup reflected a faint gold. (Memory Conduction.) The term surfaced in Kyaru's mind. On this continent, Astralia, people's "memories" and "feelings" were the source of magical power. The stronger the emotion, the greater the magic's force. Memory Conduction—a high-order technique that converted memories of a specific person into magical energy. Use it too much, and your own memories grew hazy. (You really are...) Kyaru stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, still clutching the ledger. Her feet wouldn't move. Saren's profile was lit by the magelight and the glow of the golden pattern, rising out of the dark. Her face was terrifyingly calm. As if she were praying. —No. That wasn't it. (That's not prayer.) Something stirred deep in Kyaru's chest. (That's the face of someone who's made peace with it.) The face of someone who had accepted her own disappearance. Kyaru stepped one pace into the kitchen. "...Saren." Her voice echoed through the night kitchen. Saren's shoulders gave a small jolt. Slowly, she turned. Her amber eyes reflected Kyaru. "Kyaru... at this hour, what's wrong?" Saren's voice was quiet, as always. But hidden deep within it was the faintest trace of unease. "That's my line. You know the work rules as well as anyone." Kyaru fixed her gaze on Saren's eyes. "Your hours are already triple the regulation. And coming from the one who does the books, that's no exaggeration." Saren quietly lowered the hand holding the spatula. "...I'm sorry." "I'm not asking for an apology." Kyaru took a step closer. "Do you even realize what's surfaced on your left hand right now?" Saren looked at her own left hand. The golden pattern still glowed faintly. "...I do." "If you do, then why—" "Kyaru." Saren cut her off. "Yuuki's soup is almost done. Can we talk after that?" "Huh? What are you—" "Please." Saren's voice grew just slightly firmer. Kyaru swallowed her words. Saren's amber eyes looked straight at her. (This woman won't back down. Not ever.) Kyaru knew it. "...Fine. I'll wait here until you finish the soup." "Thank you." Saren turned back to the pot. The wooden spatula stirred the soup. A quiet sound. Golden light flowed from Saren's fingertips into the pot. Kyaru simply watched in silence. (Every bit of that light is a memory of yours, disappearing.) (And you know it.) (So how can you make soup with a face like that?) Something burned deep in her chest. Anger, or sorrow—she couldn't tell which. The feeling churned in circles, a whirlpool she couldn't name. Saren took the soup off the heat. She poured it carefully into a white bowl. Steam rose, and the sweet fragrance filled the kitchen. "...It's done." Saren set the bowl on the prep counter. "For Yuuki." "You could just take it to him yourself." "I still have cleaning up to do." "The cleaning can wait." Kyaru stood directly in front of Saren. "Hey, Saren." "Yes." "You're shaving away your memories to save Yuuki, aren't you." Kyaru said it plainly. Saren's movements stopped. "...What are you talking about?" "Don't play dumb. I saw it. The pattern on your left hand, and the words vanishing from your diary." Saren's expression changed. "Kyaru, you didn't—" "Yes, I did. I snuck into your room and read three years' worth of your diary. All of it." Kyaru looked Saren straight in the eye. "I'm sorry. I pried into the thing most precious to you." "...I see." Saren slowly closed her eyes. "I suppose I couldn't hide it from you." "No. You couldn't hide it at all." Kyaru stepped closer. "You're converting your own memories into Conduction to save Yuuki. The faster he recovers, the more of your memories disappear." Saren didn't answer. But the silence was an answer. "...That's right." Kyaru's voice trembled. "Why would you do that? How can you sacrifice yourself like that?" "Kyaru." Saren spoke quietly. "I believe Yuuki collapsing was my fault." "Huh? Why? It's not your fault." "I should have noticed something was wrong with him sooner. If I had been watching him properly—" "You watched him more than anyone." The words came out before Kyaru could stop them. "I read your diary. Three years of it. The days he was hurt, the days he laughed, the days he laughed with other girls—all of it was there. You watched Yuuki more than anyone else." Saren's lips trembled faintly. "...And yet I couldn't see that he'd reached his limit." "That's because he's good at hiding it. That man never tells anyone anything about himself." "Even so." Saren touched the back of her left hand. The golden pattern still glowed faintly. "This is all I can do." "All you can do—" "This was the only way I could think of to save him. Converting my memories and feelings into his recovery. That was the one thing I could do." "That doesn't make it okay for you to disappear!" Kyaru shouted. "If you disappear, who's going to support Yuuki?! Who's going to make the food you make?! Who's going to carry on what you've done for him?!" Saren looked at her quietly. Her eyes were strangely serene. "...Kyaru." "What." "Whether I'm here or not, Yuuki will be fine." "Huh?" "Because you're here." Saren's voice was soft. "You watch Yuuki closely. If he pushes himself too hard, you'll notice. If he's about to collapse, you'll hold him up. So even without me, it's all right." Kyaru tried to say something. But no words came. Saren's words pierced deep into her chest. (I'm not here to be your replacement.) (I'm not your substitute.) Anger welled up from the pit of her stomach. "...Don't be ridiculous." Kyaru's voice dropped low. "I am not your replacement." "Kyaru." "I am not your replacement! I don't want to be you! I want to do things my own way, for Yuuki—" There, the words stopped. (Do what for Yuuki, exactly?) (What do I want to do for Yuuki?) Kyaru bit her lip. "...You idiot." That was all she said before she bolted from the kitchen. She ran down the corridor, still clutching the ledger. Tears spilled over. (Why? Why are you always like this?) ( Sacrificing yourself, smiling for someone else's sake, saying "I'm fine.") (If you disappear, Yuuki will grieve. Obviously.) (I'll grieve too. Obviously.) Kyaru rounded the corner of the corridor. —And nearly collided with someone. "Kya!" "...Kokkoro?" It was Kokkoro. Her pale pink medium-length hair was tied in two at the sides of her ears, with white ribbons. Her large, pale green eyes were wide with surprise. The Gourmet Guild's head server. The youngest staff member, only fifteen. "Miss Kyaru, what's wrong? You're crying..." Kokkoro peered worriedly at Kyaru's face. "...It's nothing." Kyaru wiped her tears roughly. "What are you doing up at this hour?" "Kokkoro is doing her night rounds as head server. Ever since Yuuki collapsed, I've been worried that Miss Saren might be overworking herself." "...So you noticed too." "Yes. Miss Saren makes soup in the kitchen every night. Without sleeping, either." Kokkoro's voice was quiet. "Kokkoro asked Miss Saren to please stop. But all she would say was that she's fine." "...That woman is a real idiot." "Yes. She is an idiot. But Kokkoro likes that about her." Kokkoro smiled faintly. But there were tears in her eyes. "Miss Kyaru." "...What." "You love Yuuki too, don't you, Miss Kyaru." Kyaru couldn't say anything. She couldn't deny it. She couldn't lie to Kokkoro. "...Yes." She admitted it, quietly. "I love him. I love Yuuki too." Her voice trembled. "But I can't compete with Saren." "...That's not true." Kokkoro shook her head. "Your feelings are real too, Miss Kyaru. Kokkoro can tell." "...Thank you." Kyaru wiped her tears again. "But that's not the issue right now. We have to do something about Saren." "Yes." Kokkoro nodded. "Miss Saren converted Yuuki's memories into Conduction to save him. In other words, it was Miss Saren who saved Yuuki." "...I know." Kyaru looked down. "That she's shaving away her own memories to save him—I know that better than anyone." "Miss Kyaru." "I can't compete with the depth of her feelings." Kyaru laughed at herself. "I love Yuuki. But I couldn't throw away my own memories to save him. I can't discard myself to that extent." "...That isn't a bad thing." Kokkoro said quietly. "You are you, Miss Kyaru. You don't have to be the same as Miss Saren." "...Kokkoro." "You can support Yuuki in your own way, Miss Kyaru. That's what Kokkoro believes." Kokkoro's words seeped gently into Kyaru's chest. (In my own way.) (What I can do.) Kyaru lifted her head. "...Thank you, Kokkoro. You really are mature for your age." "Kokkoro is happy." Kokkoro beamed. "That you would say that to me, Miss Kyaru." "...What kind of response is that." Kyaru smiled, just a little. Her tear-soaked cheeks were cold.

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Episode 4

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

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