4
“You’ve heard the news, I suppose? Tomorrow, the Axing Chef, Dias Lepunzo Elemanso Oplane Fatsbalm’s successor, is coming here.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!”
This was the fourth time Subaru was having this conversation in the same day, but there was a new revelation that compelled Subaru to cry out.
Beatrice responded with a look of annoyance, which was business as usual. What was astonishing was that she also seemed strangely smug for once as she sat on her stepladder, snorting haughtily at Subaru. She glared at him and said, “How dare you interrupt me—you’ve got some nerve, I suppose. And stop making a commotion in here. You’ll stir up dust. And worst of all, you’ll offend the books.”
“Ignoring the manic dream pixie girl comment that makes it sound like you commune with the books—can we go back to what you said earlier? One more time?”
Beatrice sighed. “Tomorrow, the Axing Chef, Dias Lepunzo Elemanso Oplane Fatsbalm’s successor, is coming here—that’s all I said.”
“Yes, there! That part! What’s with the super-creepy name?! Axing?! I didn’t get that memo!”
The mysterious chef’s title seemed to change like the wind, but all the names Subaru had heard until now were still within the realm of possibility for a chef. This sudden addition of a bizarre horror element was just too much for Subaru to take in stride.
“Who needs this many nicknames?! Having this many just dilutes the coolness factor! So this guy is supposed to be a wandering master chef, the ultimate chef who makes dragons howl, a sleazy womanizer who is nevertheless a legendary chef, and now he axes people, too? The womanizer bit was already pretty wild, if I’m being totally honest! I’m not even sure what I’m expecting anymore. Who—who else has so many damn nicknames?! Name another person! Anyone!”
“Well, Roswaal gets called Demi-Human Fetish, Clown Noble, Top Court Mage, and Court Jester.”
“When he gets home, he’s getting a piece of my mind!”
Subaru exploded when he learned someone so close to him had quite a few nicknames of his own, making him wildly scratch his head in frustration.
Beatrice shook her head and sighed as she watched him. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset…though I’m sure it’s over something frivolous.”
“Frivolous, my ass. Having Axing in your nickname is scary enough as is, but you’d have to ax at least two or three people to even get that title. Why is he even allowed to be a chef?”
“Ah…that’s what you mean. A big misunderstanding, I suppose. Obviously, he didn’t get the title because he murdered people with an ax.”
Subaru raised an eyebrow and dubiously asked, “You sure?” in response to Beatrice’s frustrated declaration. “Well, yeah…I guess that tracks. There’s no way society would casually let someone hack up anyone they don’t like. Okay, so the nickname is just an exaggeration.”
“Of course. However, rumor has it that anyone Dias Lepunzo Elemanso Oplane Fatsbalm’s successor does not like will mysteriously lose their job or title after dinner service—that’s how he came to be called the Axing Chef.”
“Wait, so it’s axing jobs?!”
Beatrice’s explanation, equally as convincing as the womanizer nickname, was making Subaru royally freak out.
The more out-there the nickname, the more legitimate it seemed to be—which was absolutely terrifying. But Subaru consoled himself with the idea that at present, none of those nicknames implied this chef was overtly malicious.
“Wait just a minute…?”
But just when he was about to relax, a little voice in the back of Subaru’s mind yelled very loudly once more: Something is wrong.
And that sense of foreboding had reared its ugly head each time the chef came up in conversation, starting with his chat with Emilia that morning. That suspicion had been building all day, but now, combined with everything Subaru had learned, a new revelation was dawning on him.
“Predicting Emilia’s future…a stickler for manners, a womanizer, a chef who axes jobs…”
The anxious and disquieting words intertwined, sparking activity in the hazy recesses of Subaru’s mind. And in time, Subaru finally arrived at a single conclusion.
A scheme vicious, cruel, and draconian.
“That would be insane… Then again, I wouldn’t put it past Roswaal.”
Roswaal L Mathers was Emilia’s biggest patron in the royal selection—some might call him her sole supporter. But he was also a member of the nobility holding the rank of marquis—and naturally, it was a position that sometimes required him to make hard choices.
That was what convinced Subaru that Roswaal would demand from Emilia an equal commitment and resolve to do whatever it took to win the crown.
But the marquis’s methods were surely beyond what kindhearted, pure Emilia could imagine.
“…I’ve gotta do something.”
Emilia’s smile…her excited voice…the warmth of her fingers…it all shone brightly in his memory.
…He had to protect all those things.
“I’ll always be on your side, even if I have to do it alone.”
Subaru wanted to support Emilia, to illuminate the path forward. There was no reason to hold back. He had already been amply rewarded.
“Helloooo?” Beatrice sang. “Goodness, he’s completely ignoring me, I suppose. Well, see if I care.”
Clenching his fist with renewed resolve, Subaru retreated into his own world and completely forgot about Beatrice, who turned away in a decidedly sulky huff. Their failure to share what they were thinking in that moment would later make things much, much messier.
But at the time, neither of them could have known this.
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