Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 2 - Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The Circumstances of Chocolate

After being poisoned by Caroline Simmons and sent to the infirmary, Monica took about a week off from classes and spent the time recuperating in Isabelle’s room. She would have gladly stayed in her attic dorm, but Isabelle had already brought in a bed for her, so she hadn’t been able to refuse.

The bed was soft and fluffy, and Monica was sitting on it now, wearing a borrowed set of silken nightclothes. She turned the page in the novel Isabelle had lent her, feeling uncomfortable under the girl’s excited gaze. Upon finishing that last page, Monica rubbed her tired eyes.

Isabelle, sitting at her bedside, leaned forward a little and asked excitedly, “How did you like it? That was Maroné Firill’s most famous work—The White Rose Maiden Sleeps in the Flower Garden!”

“U-um…” Monica wasn’t sure how to reply, and her gaze wandered. “Th-the choice of words…is very, um, unique.”

“It is, isn’t it? Maroné Firill’s phrasing is so poetic and beautiful, and she does an especially wonderful job of depicting scenery and the heroine’s mindset! But her narratives are amazing, too! One simply cannot help but cry as the characters part ways in chapter three!”

Monica, who had read all the way through chapter three without crying, began to feel as if she owed Isabelle an apology. She’d never read many storybooks, even when she was very young, so she had a hard time with the peculiar turns of phrase unique to this sort of fiction. It had described soft skin as smooth as white porcelain, black hair like melted ebony sprinkled with dusted gemstones, and youthful lips the color of wild strawberries. Monica wondered why the author didn’t simply say a character had white skin, black hair, or red lips.

But since she was hesitant to speak ill of something Isabelle had recommended to her, she just smiled vaguely and nodded.

Then Isabelle’s maid, Agatha, called out softly, “Madam, it is almost time for your meal.”

“Oh, it’s already that late?” said Isabelle. “I must go to the cafeteria for a short time, my sister. Agatha will prepare your food.”

“…Th-thank you.”

After Isabelle left the room, her young maid, Agatha, brought over a tray with some food on it. “I’ll leave everything here,” she said. “When you’re finished, please ring the bell on the table.”

“…U-um, th-thank you.”

Agatha smiled sweetly at her, bowed, and left the room. She seemed to have guessed that Monica wasn’t used to eating around others, and Monica was grateful for her consideration.

She climbed out of bed and took a seat in a chair. Several things were on the table—soft bread, cheese, a stew containing fish and vegetables, and a dish of boiled sweet apples. Apparently, Agatha had used the cafeteria to prepare all of this specifically for Monica.

Appreciative of both Isabelle’s and Agatha’s thoughtfulness, Monica tore off a piece of bread and put it in her mouth. It was soft, fluffy, and just a little bit sweet. She’d almost never eaten bread this soft up in the mountains. Hers was always blackened and hard as stone. However, even that wasn’t half-bad when soaked in soup and eaten with cheese.

As she was chewing on the bread and reminiscing about cabin life, she heard a scratching noise at the window. She looked over to see Nero outside, scraping his claws against the pane.

Monica got up and opened the window, and Nero slipped in and sniffed around. “Now, that smells good,” he said.

“There’s fish,” she noted. “Do you want any?”

“Eh, not a huge fan of fish. Meat’s more my thing. Bird meat in particular!” The cat jumped up on the table, but when he saw there was no meat, he scrunched up his face and complained, “Fine, I’ll compromise and have the cheese instead.”

Monica set the small plate of cheese in front of Nero, who proceeded to deftly use both paws to pick it up and munch on it.

“Woo, this is good stuff,” he said. “Would’ve been perfect with some meat. Maybe I should go for a little hunting session tonight.”

“…And who was it who once got a bird bone stuck in his throat and made all that fuss?”

“Ah, I was young and thoughtless back then. But all intelligent creatures must fail in order to grow.” Nero nodded to himself, perfectly satisfied with his own explanation. Then, when he noticed the novel by her bedside, his golden eyes went wide. “Don’t see that every day. Were you reading a novel…? Oh wait, I get it. That orange twisty girl recommended it, didn’t she?”

The nickname orange twisty girl was probably in reference to Isabelle’s hair. As a rule, Nero never made any effort to remember the names of humans.

“Nero,” chided Monica. “That’s rude to Lady Isabelle.”

Her familiar ignored her, continuing to munch on the cheese and stare at the cover of the novel. “Never heard of the author. Good book?”

“…I didn’t really understand it.”

“What kind of story was it?”

Monica tore off another piece of bread and thought back on the story she’d just finished reading. “…Well, there was a man and a woman,” she began.

“Uh-huh.”

“…And a bunch of things happened.”

“Right, right.”

“…And then they got married.”

“And after that?”

“…That’s it.”

Nero swallowed the cheese in his mouth and gave Monica a hard stare. “It’s obvious this novel didn’t stir your emotions in the slightest. That whole ‘and a bunch of things happened’ is the most important part! I can’t believe you’d just trim thousands of words from the story like that.”

“I’m serious! I really didn’t understand much of it…”

In the story, a heroine who had fallen on hard times met a young man who turned out to be a prominent nobleman, and she fell in love with him at first sight. But the young man had a fiancée, and that fiancée came up with all sorts of schemes to get rid of the heroine. Ultimately, however, the lovers triumphed and were wed.

What Monica couldn’t understand was why the heroine had fallen in love with the nobleman. To begin with, he already had a fiancée. Wasn’t it normal for the fiancée to be enraged?

Monica looked silently down at the book’s cover. “…How can someone be so obsessed with another person?”

The characters in the story had loved each other so much that they couldn’t think about anything else. The heroine had said things like, “I want him to love me, I want to be loved, I want him to choose me, I want him to desire me…no matter what I have to give up in exchange.”

The heroine’s attitude reminded Monica of the culprit in the flowerpot incident she had been roped into shortly after her transfer—Selma Karsh. She had lost her mind over her fiancé and tried to harm Felix. Selma wanted her fiancé to love her. She probably would have done anything to make her wish come true. Clearly, that included causing harm to another person.

Seeing her obsessed with love like that had been terrifying to Monica.

“How can…how can she hope for so much from another person?” she wondered aloud, directing a dark-eyed gaze at the book’s cover.

Nero swished his tail from side to side. “You’re probably too young to understand. Love is, well… When you fall in love, it makes your chest feel tight. You know, your heart clenches up and stuff,” he explained, his expression making it clear he thought he knew everything.

Monica frowned and stared at him. “You understand love, then?”

“’Course I do! And by the way, I go for the females with good-lookin’ tails.”

“…Tails.”

“I just can’t get it going unless she’s got a nice tail on her, y’know? Which means you’re out of the picture, incidentally, so no need to worry about that.”

That was a world the tail-less Monica would never understand.

Just like how she didn’t have a tail, maybe Monica lacked a sense for romance, too, and always had. Satisfied with that conclusion, she put another piece of bread in her mouth. Her problem was much more basic than all this love and romance stuff anyway. A timid girl like Monica could never hope for anything from anyone.

The only thing worth being obsessed over was numbers—they would never betray her.

After a week of recuperation, Monica had made a full recovery, and she decided to return to her own room that night. Isabelle insisted she wouldn’t mind if Monica stayed, but since she was supposed to be publicly bullying the other girl, they couldn’t afford to remain in the same room forever.

Wrapping Nero in a cloth to hide him, Monica headed to the storage room on the top floor. Her quarters in the attic were on the other side of a ceiling door at the top of a ladder. She let Nero down first, since she couldn’t climb with him in her arms.

When she did, Nero looked up at her. “Hey,” he said. “Is it just me, or are we forgetting something?”

“Huh? Forgetting something?” Come to think of it, Monica did feel like they’d forgotten about something. She made a low, thoughtful noise as she climbed the ladder and pushed against the door in the ceiling. “What could it be…? I don’t think I left anything in Lady Isabelle’s room, so…”

“Good evening, madam. I am the messenger you forgot about.”

When Monica pushed the door open, a beautiful maid peered down at her—it was Ryn. “Eeeep?!” yelped Monica in surprise. Shocked, she let go of the ladder and tumbled backward…but instead of falling, she was caught by a gentle wind. Ryn had manipulated the air to catch her.

The maid lightly waved a hand, causing Monica and Nero to slowly float up and into the attic room.

Sweating bullets, Monica looked toward Ryn. “I-I’m sorry… Um… Miss Ryn, how long have you…um…?”

“For approximately three days.”

Monica paled and started bowing to her. “I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ve been in Lady Isabelle’s room this past week… Um, someone tried to poison me, and I was recuperating…,” she explained, fiddling with her fingers.

Ryn’s head tilted in confusion—to about ninety degrees, in fact. She’d probably meant it to look natural, but it was extremely creepy, like a doll with a broken neck. “Why would the Silent Witch, tasked with guarding the second prince, have almost been poisoned to death?”

“…Why indeed…” Monica wanted to know the answer to that question herself.

Looking back, it’d been a month and a half since she transferred in, and she’d had a whirlwind of a time—someone had dropped a flowerpot on her, she’d caught a mage in the act of using forbidden magecraft, she’d secretly slain a dragon, she’d tried to neutralize a pair of intruders and ended up sending a horse cart out of control, and she’d almost been poisoned and killed by a classmate. The city was a scary place.

“Um, well, I’m sorry!” repeated Monica. “I’ll write a report immediately… Please just give me a moment.”

Flustered, she sat down in her chair and started writing the report. Then, as though she’d just remembered something, Ryn pounded a fist into her palm. She rummaged around in the pockets of her maid’s outfit. “While you were out, several secret documents arrived.”

“S-secret documents?”

“Yes. They were stuck under the door, so I took the liberty of gathering them. Here you are.” Ryn held out a few sheets of plain paper that had been folded in half.

Monica felt her body tense. During her time at Minerva’s, other students had stuffed awful letters with terrible things on them into her room. Grimacing at the bitter memory, she opened up one of the letters.

But what she found weren’t hostile words. Far from it—the messages, written with slightly rounded letters, were just about changes in the next day’s schedule or notifications about things she’d need to bring into class.

They also featured a few short comments. “You’d better get well soon,” said one. “Are you eating properly?” said another.

There was no name on them, but Monica recognized the handwriting. These are from Lana…, she thought. Judging by the number of letters, she’d delivered one every single day this week.

Monica felt a ticklish sensation in her lips. She brought her hands up to flushed cheeks.

“…Eh-heh.” She giggled.

After reading over each and every one of the letters with care, she opened her locked drawer. The only thing inside the drawer—where she stored things important to her—was the coffeepot that was a memento from her father.

Monica put Lana’s letters inside, closed the drawer, and locked it again.

The next day, when she showed up at the student council room for the first time in a week, everyone was already present. It had been a long time since she’d seen Elliott in particular, as he’d been running all over the place cleaning up after the Abbott Company imposter incident.

Monica bowed and apologized for causing an inconvenience.

Felix gave her a considerate look. “Hello, Lady Norton. Are you feeling better?”

“Y-yes, sir…”

“I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be a bit busier, as more supplies for the school festival will be arriving this week, but I don’t want you to push yourself.”

When she heard the word supplies, Monica’s face tensed. The imposter incident was still fresh in her mind. If something like that happens again…, she thought.

Elliott noticed her grim expression and shrugged. “Well, we tightened up the procedure for checking each contractor’s documentation and seals, and we’ve forbidden possession of blades of any sort, so I doubt we’ll have many issues.”

“But we can’t let our guard down,” added Cyril, glaring at him. His tone was serious, in contrast to Elliott’s.

The secretary scowled. “I know that.”

Felix interrupted to try and settle things down. “Let’s get started on today’s work, shall we? Lady Norton, Cyril took care of your work while you were away, so you can simply focus on taking back over.”

“Y-yes, sir!” Monica nodded, glancing at Cyril out of the corner of her eye. The last time she’d seen him was in the infirmary after she’d swallowed the poison and collapsed. He’d yelled something crazy about tying her to the bed if she tried to get up.

His face was just as strict as always. When he noticed Monica’s furtive glances, he crossed his arms and huffed. “I’ll be putting you through the wringer to make up for your absence. You’d better be prepared.”

“…Right.”

I have to make up for all the trouble I caused, she thought, determined to do her best. However, all her work from the previous week had been neatly finished up. Felix was right—Cyril had already done most of it for her.

He’d threatened to put her through the wringer, but all she ended up doing was checking over the documents he’d finished in her stead. As a result, Monica could now focus on her budgeting task for the school festival.

But even there, Cyril had already gone through the documents submitted by the club presidents and handed back those with problems. He’d been so considerate about everything that Monica found herself wondering if Cyril even knew what a “wringer” was.

Eventually, once the other council members had reached a stopping point, Cyril told Felix, “Sir, Accountant Norton and I have more work to do, so we’ll be staying late. I’ll be sure to lock up.”

“Oh?” said Felix. “I trust you, but…don’t overdo it, all right?”

“Yes, sir.” Cyril nodded as the other members left the room. Only he and Monica remained.

…What work could he mean? wondered Monica. She couldn’t think of anything that urgent. Maybe he’s keeping me here to lecture me… I did cause a lot of trouble for him with that tea party…

She imagined him shouting at her, about how she couldn’t even manage a tea party despite being a member of the student council. As she pictured the scene, she started fidgeting with her fingers in her lap.

She was sitting, still flustered, when Cyril approached, carrying something in each hand. They were cups—not fancy ones like those used in tea parties but thicker, plain white ones. He set one of them in front of Monica, then took one for himself and sat down across from her.

“Drink,” he said.

Monica looked at her cup. It was filled with a brown liquid. The hue was lighter than coffee, and it smelled faintly sweet. She’d encountered this scent just once before. “Is this…chocolate?”

“Yes.”

Chocolate was a popular luxury item among nobles. This drink was made by crushing up beans called cocoa and adding sugar and milk. It had a very unique taste and was more expensive than coffee.

She’d tasted it only once before in her life, but it had been a lot thicker and muddier than this. Nervously, she raised the cup, noticing how the liquid swayed. It looked much smoother than the stuff Monica had drunk before.

Cyril casually took a swig of his drink. Monica followed suit, putting the cup to her lips.

“……!” Her eyes widened in astonishment.

It had a smooth taste and a soft sweetness—completely different from before. It wasn’t thick at all, and even the acidity of the cocoa had been reduced.

Chocolate took more time to make than coffee. While you could preserve coffee beans for a while in their crushed state, the same wouldn’t work with cocoa beans due to their fat content. You had to crush the beans into a fine powder right before drinking. Given the effort required, chocolate hadn’t yet reached the popularity of coffee.

But this chocolate had none of that thick, fatty texture.

“There’s…not much fat content in this, is there?”

“That’s right. I used a powdered form that already had the fat removed. It was made using cutting-edge technology.”

If someone had truly managed to preserve cocoa beans in powdered form, it would be a revolutionary invention. Not only would it keep better, but it’d also be quicker to dissolve in water or milk, making it much easier to drink.

As Monica sat there, quietly impressed, Cyril looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I heard from Claudia that you drank the entire cup of poison, despite the taste.”

“…I, um, yes…,” said Monica, cringing at the memory.

Cyril sharpened his tone. “Your problem is that you only eat scraps. Such things happen because you have no sense of taste. You need to cultivate your tongue. We can’t have you bothering the prince like that again.”

“Y-you’re right… I’m sorry…”

“In other words, drinking this is for the prince’s benefit. Understand?”

“Y-yes, sir!” Monica nodded her head.

Cyril nodded as well. “As long as we understand each other,” he said, drinking some more. “The prince thinks highly of your abilities… That means you may run into more people like Count Norn’s daughter—people who envy you and who will cause problems.”

He was right. Monica was supposed to be the one protecting Felix, but Felix had been helping her instead.

“You need to at least learn how to defend yourself. That way, you won’t make more work for him.”

“…Okay.”

Monica hung her head as she thought. She wondered if anyone had ever been envious of Cyril. There must have been, she thought. He served as the second prince’s aide, an enviable position. Surely there had been a few.

And now Monica was in the same boat.

“Um, Lord Ashley,” she said. “Th-thank you. About before, too, and, um, for the chocolate…”

Cyril gave one of his usual irritated sniffs and muttered, “Savor the taste. Understand?”

Monica nodded and continued to drink the warm chocolate with care.

As he watched her, he suddenly seemed to remember something. “Just one more thing. Don’t tell the prince about this. Especially the chocolate. It’s—”

“U-um, Lord Ashley…,” interrupted Monica nervously.

Cyril’s brow furrowed as he glared at her. “What?”

“The prince, he’s…”

“What about him?”

“…Right…behind you.”

The blood drained from Cyril’s face.

Felix was standing directly behind him, smiling. Cyril hadn’t even noticed—the prince’s skill for sneaking up on people would probably put a professional assassin to shame.

“Secretly feeding the little squirrel, are we?” asked Felix. “My, that’s unfair, isn’t it, Cyril?”

“P-P-P-P-Prince?!” stammered Cyril.

“I never thought I’d hear someone other than Monica say my title quite like that.”

“Oh, no, I mean, this is…,” said Cyril, flustered and glancing at his cup. It almost seemed like he was trying to hide the chocolate from Felix.

Felix just watched him, his usual tranquil smile on his face. “You don’t need to hide it. I really don’t mind.”

“B-but…”

The way Cyril was acting, you’d think he’d just been caught in possession of an illegal drug. Why was he so upset?

“I’d like some chocolate as well,” said Felix. “Would you mind making it for me?”

Cyril seemed somehow relieved by that. “Yes, sir!” he replied and hastened out of the room.

Felix watched him go, sighing. “He really doesn’t need to be so worried,” he remarked.

Not understanding their exchange, Monica hesitantly asked, “U-um… Are we…not supposed to have chocolate?”

“Of course you can have chocolate. It’s quite popular among this kingdom’s nobility, after all.”

Then why was Cyril so distressed? wondered Monica, confused.

Felix continued, his voice casual, “The technology to remove fat content from cocoa beans is something a scholar from the Kingdom of Landor invented.”

Landor was a small kingdom located between the Kingdom of Ridill and the Empire to the east. But what could an inventor from Landor have to do with Cyril’s strange attitude? Monica couldn’t quite figure it out.

“The mother of my older brother, Lionel, is a princess of Landor,” explained Felix.

Finally, Monica realized why Cyril had been so intent on hiding the chocolate from him. This kingdom had three princes, but each had a different mother. The first prince Lionel’s mother was a princess of Landor. This meant that many in his faction also valued relations with Landor. Cyril had probably been worried Felix would think he was part of the first prince’s faction if he saw him enjoying their new technology.

“So whenever I end up at a tea party, nobody ever serves me chocolate—since it’s Landor technology. I don’t see why, though. The chocolate’s not at fault, and it’s delicious. Isn’t that all that matters?” said Felix, plucking Monica’s cup out of her hands and taking a sip.

If Cyril had seen the prince put his mouth on something another person had already used, his eyes would have popped out of his head. But this time, Monica saw the clear intent behind his action. Felix really didn’t care about trivial things like that.

“…It must be difficult, being royalty and all,” she said.

“You can say that again,” replied Felix. His face in profile lacked its usual calm. Instead, it held a cold disdain, as if he found something utterly ridiculous.