The last place in the world he wanted to go.
That was Jean-Francois Mont de la Vigny’s honest, unvarnished assessment of Tavern Nobu.
Jean was a member of the Curious Tales Collectors, the East Kingdom’s intelligence organization, and was recognized as a skilled spy. Or rather, he had been.
Now, he’d been relegated to a dead-end job and was on the verge of being expelled from the Curious Tales Collectors. It was all because of his failure to investigate the ancient capital.
He had eaten a salad at Tavern Nobu and mistakenly assessed the Empire’s strength as greater than it actually was.
The Caesar salad with its wonderfully fresh, crisp vegetables and slightly tangy dressing.
The daikon radish salad, with its crunchy texture and delicious cod roe sauce.
And the beloved potato salad…
He could vividly recall the taste of each salad.
Common sense would dictate that it should be impossible to obtain such fresh and varied ingredients in the ancient capital. Wouldn’t it be unreasonable to expect him not to be deceived? He pleaded his case, but no one understood.
Jean’s fate within the organization was sealed when he received a direct reprimand from Princess Regent Celestine de Oiria, the head of the Curious Tales Collectors.
He endured days of humiliation, being called incompetent and a liar, forced to grovel like a dog.
Then, unexpectedly, Jean was given a job.
Another investigation of the ancient capital.
Seizing the opportunity to redeem his honor and clear his name, Jean headed to the largest city in the northern part of the Empire. The place he chose to gather information was…Tavern Nobu.
“Welcome!”
“…Welcome.”
Passing under the noren curtain, Jean was greeted again by the familiar greeting.
With sanpaku eyes, he scanned the tavern vigilantly, returned the greeting, and took a seat at the counter. The old monk who seemed to have noticed Jean’s true identity last time was not there today. Now he could investigate this place without reservation.
Translator’s Note
Sanpaku eyes refer to eyes where the white of the eye is visible below the iris, and sometimes interpreted as a sign of imbalance or misfortune.
Tavern Nobu. There was something about this place.
Jean’s honed senses, cultivated over years of service to the Curious Tales Collectors, told him so.
“What would you like to order?”
The black-haired waitress who brought him a wet towel and an otoshi asked. Today’s otoshi seemed to be simmered white fish. It looked quite delicious. Jean smoothly replied with the words he had been repeating in his mind.
“Toriaezu Nama and something to nibble on, please.”
The waitress looked surprised.
But she probably wouldn’t realize that Jean had been here before.
Jean’s special skill, one that had earned him trust within the Curious Tales Collectors, was “face changing.”
Using various methods, he could completely alter the impression of his face. He had never been identified, not by ordinary people, and not even by spies from other countries.
Therefore, it was absolutely impossible for his true identity to be revealed in a backwater tavern like this.
“You must be the customer who likes salads!”
Jean was speechless at the waitress’s words.
Why? How did she know? It shouldn’t be possible. Sweat trickled down Jean’s back, a man who had overcome countless difficult situations. But, overcompensating here would only make him look more suspicious. It would be best to admit it.
“Y-Yes. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Last time, you said you suddenly remembered something urgent and left quickly. Was everything alright?”
“Ah, yes, thank you for your concern. Actually, after that, I couldn’t forget the taste of the salad here, so I decided to come back.”
“That’s good to hear. Please relax and enjoy yourself today, to make up for last time.”
“Y-Yes. I will.”
Wiping away his cold sweat, that was all Jean could manage to say.
“Oh, by the way.”
“W-What else?”
“Is it alright to serve you alcohol this time?”
He flinched at that question. The last time Jean came, he was disguised as a monk. Now, he had a short but full head of hair, and he had visited the tavern with the cover story of being a traveler.
“T-Today is for personal business. I’ll have some.”
He didn’t know how she had figured it out, but this waitress was a shrewd one. He needed to be careful around her.
Perhaps she was aware of his background and was on guard. Although the identity of members of the Curious Tales Collectors was supposed to be absolutely secret, there was always the possibility that information had leaked from somewhere.
A bad feeling passed through Jean-Francois Mont de la Vigny’s mind.
Could the Empire’s Saltpeter Collection Bureau, which opposed the East Kingdom’s Curious Tales Collectors, be involved?
With the imperial edicts from successive emperors, they were allowed to enter not only the homes of commoners but also under the floors of noble residences, and their information-gathering ability was not to be underestimated. The Saltpeter Collection Bureau was the enemy organization that the Curious Tales Collectors operating in the Empire had to be most wary of.
However, was it really possible that this innocent-looking waitress in front of him was a member of that notorious organization? Even if she wasn’t a spy herself, she could be working under someone’s direction.
He shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Even if they knew he was a spy, they might not know where he was dispatched from.
He had to proceed cautiously and focus solely on overcoming this difficult situation.
To calm his nerves, he wiped his face with the wet towel.
A different waitress, not the one from before, brought him the Toriaezu Nama.
The waitress, who introduced herself as Leontaine, whispered to him as she placed the mug down.
“You’re lucky today, customer.”
Leontaine’s casual tone had a faint East Kingdom accent. Perhaps she was from the southern coast. It was very rare to see someone like her in the ancient capital.
“Lucky, you say?”
“Today, we have Kushikatsu. It goes well with Toriaezu Nama.”
“Kushikatsu?”
It was an unfamiliar name for a dish. Or perhaps it was the name of an ingredient. Maybe something from further north than the ancient capital.
“It’s like Frit. You eat it on New Year’s Eve, right?”
Hearing the word “Frit,” Jean almost glared at Leontine.
It was a common custom in the East Kingdom to fry leftover preserved food on New Year’s Eve. But how did this woman know that Jean was aware of that? He should probably assume that she had figured him out.
“Ah, yes, that fried dish.”
“That’s right. And it goes exceptionally well with Toriaezu Nama.”
When she said it with such emotion, it certainly seemed that way.
Jean also loved the Frit eaten on New Year’s Eve.
Pork, salted for preservation, is lightly coated in batter and fried in oil spread on the bottom of a pan. It’s a precious flavor on the winter dinner table, where it’s hard to find joy in eating.
And to pair it with Toriaezu Nama.
Just thinking about it was irresistible.
“T-Then, I’ll have this Kushikatsu.”