The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 61
Chapter 61: The fat aristocrat thinks about what he wants to do
“I don’t understand why, but the food tastes good.”
Mitrof was devouring the food laid out on the table. Although it was all purchased from street vendors, the taste was better than what one would get from the ground-level stalls or the guild cafeteria. Mitrof felt it was because the meat was fresh and the spices were generously used.
Certainly, the prices were higher, but adventurers would not hesitate to pay for a warm meal, especially while exploring the labyrinth.
The two of them settled down on a table and bench that were lined up on a corner of the street.
Many adventurers were spreading out their meals bought from the street vendors, drinking alcohol, and laughing out loud. It was no different from the scenes on the ground above.
The vivid colors of the perpetual sunset made one forget that they were inside the labyrinth.
Despite feeling surprised by the evening streetscape, the aroma of the grilled meat from the vendors overpowered everything else. After fighting monsters, hunger was especially strong. Mitrof’s body was craving for nutrients.
As Mitrof and Canule went from one food stall to another, the four-seater table was quickly filled with various dishes. Canule watched as Mitrof devoured everything in sight.
“It’s amazing…”
Canule marveled and let out a sigh. Mitrof nodded as he wiped his mouth with the napkin hanging from his collar.
“I didn’t know there was a place like this in the labyrinth—the buildings are new; they must have been built in the last few years.”
“No, I’m talking about Mitrof-sama’s appetite,”.
“Is that so?”
Looking back, Mitrof and Canule had not had many opportunities to eat together. Canule, who was cursed, did not need to eat or drink. Knowing this, Mitrof never suggested going to the dining hall for a celebration.
During their exploration, Canule sometimes prepared light snacks, but for Mitrof, they were literally just light snacks.
“Last night’s dinner was the same, wasn’t it, Mitrof-sama?—You are quite a hearty eater—wasn’t our usual light snack not enough for you?”
“Indeed, Canule’s food is so delicious that I have always wanted to eat more.”
Mitrof said it sincerely.
In Mitrof’s perception, Canule was an excellent cook.
The main dishes were initially prepared meals that the guild sold, but as time went on, she started to choose dried goods and produce from the market.
Inside the labyrinth, during mini-breaks from exploration, she used a portable stove and small pans and frying pans with limited seasonings to make simple but appetizing dishes.
“…T-Thank you very much.”
Canule replied with a choked voice. In contrast to her usual calm demeanor, she was oozing with a childlike innocence.
Mitrof did not know Canule’s exact age. When they first met, she seemed like a young girl, flustered and in a panic. But lately, Canule has had the composure of a lady.
“You’re from a family of knights, yet you can cook.”
Cooking is an admirable skill. Most people do not cook at home. Gathering seasoning, fuel for daily cooking, preparation, and clean-up—all required money, time, and effort. It is cheaper and tastes better to eat at food stalls or restaurants.
Canule shrank her body, slightly embarrassed, and lowered her head under her hood.
“…I love cooking more than swordplay. When I was young, I was a picky child and hardly ate anything. Our family cook prepared meals with strong seasoning for my father and brothers, who engaged in strenuous physical activity. The food did not suit my taste—my nanny felt sorry for me and made a variety of dishes, hoping I would eat somehow.”
‘A nanny, huh,’ Mitrof nodded.
In noble households, it is not common for a mother to care for her child around the clock. They may not even see each other for an hour a day. The nanny takes on the role of the mother, and Mitrof has some fond memories of his own nanny.
“When the knight training began, I often cried—my family was strict, and the servants only kept their distance…Only my nanny was kind to me—whenever I ate her prepared meals, my heart became warm.”
Canule’s tone reminisced about the past, gentle and somehow lonely.
“When I asked, she always taught me how to cook secretly—when I held a knife, it was more fun than holding a sword.”
Mitrof narrowed his eyes. He knew the name of the emotion that surfaced within him. Envy.
“You know what you want to do.”
“Do you, Mitrof-sama?”
To Canule’s question, Mitrof could not answer.
What does Mitrof want to do? Of course, it’s adventuring. ‘To explore the labyrinth––really?’
There was no answer to his self-questioning. He didn’t know.
The reason Mitrof is crawling through the labyrinth is that he was kicked out of his father’s house.
When his father offered him to come back, he refused because he wanted to help Grace.
Still, Mitrof is in the labyrinth to earn money. It’s necessary to live.
But earning money is not necessarily what he wants to do.
Canule’s question is simple.
But Mitrof could not find a simple answer within himself.
Since childhood, Mitrof has been forced to do everything. He was instructed by private tutors, ordered by his father, and worked hard to meet expectations and gain recognition. All of it, however, did not lead to any results.
“… I don’t know.”
Mitrof answered.
“It’s embarrassing, but I don’t know what I want to do.”
Canule shook her head.
“It’s not something to be ashamed of—I think someday you’ll find the words you’re looking for—simple words.”
With a poet-like tone, Canule blinked, and Mitrof relaxed with a smile.
“Yes, I’m happy if that’s the case.”
“Yes, there’s no doubt about it.”
Canule also smiled. Even in the absence of proof, Mitrof was aware that receiving confirmation from someone could make one feel calm.
And he felt only loneliness for Canule, who loved cooking but was expected to fulfill her duty as a knightess. Even now, after running away due to a curse, and being brought back due to family circumstances.
Nobles sacrifice themselves for the sake of nurturing their big family. It might be their duty, their obligation, or even their fate.
To Mitrof, this way of life was the opposite of the adventurers, who left their survival up to fate.