Menu No.17 - a Little Promise

Raiza cut into the croissant with her fork and knife—each movement precise, elegant, almost ceremonial. The crisp layers gave way beneath the silverware, scattering delicate flakes across her plate. She took one bite, then another, and her usually stoic expression softened just slightly.

“This is,” she paused, savoring the next bite, “ . . . the best croissant I’ve ever tasted. Lysette, you should try one as well.”

Lysette straightened immediately, but her eyes flicked nervously to the five empty plates stacked beside her.

“I-I’m quite full already, Raiza-sama.”

I lifted the food covers and revealed another tray of fresh croissants. “It’s alright, Lysette-san. I prepared plenty.”

Lysette’s face lit up. “Well . . . in that case, I’ll take one more. Maybe Rowan-san and Joan would like some too?”

“I’m full, . . . ” Rowan replied without even looking up.

Joan, on the other hand, leaned forward politely. “May I have one, Raiza-sama?”

Alisa stepped in beside me, helping place croissants onto Joan’s and Lysette’s plates with practiced grace. Raiza took a sip of her coffee before turning to Alisa.

“Alisa, how is Master Hugo today?”

“He’s in good condition,” Alisa answered with a gentle smile.

“It’s been a while since we talked, Alisa-san.”

Alisa laughed softly. “Yes, it has. The last time I saw you, you were still very little.”

So Alisa had known Raiza since childhood. That explained why she spoke to her with such comfortable familiarity—though still respectfully.

“Just Raiza is fine,” Raiza corrected with mild firmness. “And . . . I noticed you rarely tend the garden these days?”

Alisa sighed. “I haven’t had time, Raiza-sama. Ever since I began working at the guild, my days have been full.”

Raiza nodded sympathetically. “I see. Guild work must be busier than I thought.”

As she spoke, Alisa poured tea and coffee for Raiza’s party members while I cleared the cleaned plates, stacking them in my arms. The small dining area buzzed with gentle conversation and clinking dishes, yet the atmosphere felt unusually warm—almost like a noble family brunch, if one ignored the scattered armor and swords.

Halfway through the meal, Lysette suddenly leaned forward and said something that nearly made me spill the kettle I was brewing.

“Perhaps Raiza-sama could take private lessons from Daiki? For your cooking hobby, I mean.”

I froze.

Joan turned sharply toward her.

“Wouldn’t that trouble him? Besides, the royal palace has many skilled chefs.”

Ra-Raiza didn’t dismiss the idea immediately. She actually seemed to consider it. Seriously!

“Hm. Not a bad thought,” she murmured. “What do you think, Alisa-san?”

I glanced at Alisa. Her smile didn’t fade, but something flickered behind her eyes—a strange mixture of surprise, hesitation, and . . . was that concern?

“I would gladly allow Daiki to teach you, Raiza,” Alisa replied carefully. “But at the moment, the guild is still short-staffed.”

“Ah, I see. That’s unfortunate, but understandable,” Raiza said with a nod.

Part of me couldn’t explain the faint disappointment that pulled at my chest. Maybe I secretly wanted to see Raiza struggle trying to make pastry. Or maybe the idea of teaching her—just the two of us—sounded… interesting.

When lunch finally wrapped up, Raiza and her party prepared to leave. I stayed behind to clear the tables with Alisa, stacking plates, wiping crumbs, and sorting utensils.

Just as I returned from the kitchen, Raiza approached Alisa again, handing her a neatly rolled parchment.

“Alisa, I’d like this posted on the guild bulletin board, if possible.”

Alisa unrolled it and scanned the contents. Her eyebrows lifted.

“You’re recruiting a party? Ah, all of parties on Drachenfall?”

“Yes,” Raiza answered. “Based on what I’ve learned from Kazuha’s map, the Drachenfell Dungeon is far larger than originally reported.”

Alisa rolled the parchment back up with a thoughtful hum. “Understood. I’ll handle it.”

Raiza gave a small nod, then turned toward the door where her knights waited. Before she left, she glanced briefly in my direction—her expression unreadable, yet her eyes warmer than usual.

“Daiki,” she said, “thank you for the croissant. I’ll look forward to tomorrow’s.”

And with that, she walked away, her presence lingering even after her footsteps faded beyond the hall.

.

.

.

I wiped my hands on a cloth. “You knew her before? You two seemed . . . familiar.”

“Her parents were often involved in guild affairs on the kingdom. When Raiza was young, she’d sometimes sneak into the herb garden and try to practice sword swings between the tomato plants. Master Hugo nearly fainted every time.”

I couldn’t help laughing. The image of a tiny Raiza swinging a wooden sword among tomatoes was too absurdly cute to ignore.

Alisa watched me laugh, then her expression turned softer, almost contemplative. “You know . . . Raiza is not the type to take interest in normal things. And she’s even less likely to show interest in normal people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She said your name five times today,” Alisa replied flatly. “She rarely says anyone’s name twice in one week.”

I blinked. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mhm,” Alisa hummed, unconvinced. “Just be careful.”

“Careful of what?”

“Of getting too involved.” She picked up the parchment again. “People like her . . . carry burdens the world rarely sees.”

Before I could ask more, she walked off toward the back office, leaving me alone with a counter full of dishes and a heart beating faster than it should.