If you sneak into the kitchen again, you should know your allowance will be cut off for a while."
"I apologize."
After being caught for the monumental 1000th time.
Mother scolded me as always.
Then suddenly.
She gave an awkward dry cough as if she'd remembered something.
"Ahem. I misspoke. I mean, if you go into the kitchen from now on..."
"..."
It seemed she remembered that, unlike Freya, I wasn't in a position to receive an allowance.
"If you go in..."
Mother's voice trailed off.
Her pupils trembled as if in an earthquake.
Unfortunately, she had just realized she had no suitable means of punishment to control me.
To be precise, the method of corporal punishment remained.
But it was an option my loving Mother could never consider.
Mother's eyes darted about awkwardly, not knowing where to look.
Mother, who had been trying to squeeze out some terrifying penalty, finally played her trump card with resignation.
"...I'll cry."
"?"
"Every time you go in and out of the kitchen, I'll have to skip my meals and cry alone in my room."
Oh.
That's a bit harsh.
"...I'm sorry. I'll be more careful from now on."
I bowed my head toward Mother as she prepared a handkerchief.
I could guess why Mother was reacting this way.
From her perspective, I was already a sore spot.
The eldest son who she couldn't even give good childhood memories to, and who also lacked the talent of a Mage.
To her, it must seem that besides becoming an adopted son-in-law, I had no way to maintain my social status and make a living.
'Just because I have a major trading company doesn't mean I can maintain my position as a noble.'
A huge trading company can receive treatment 'comparable' to a noble.
But it's only similar treatment, not the same treatment as a noble.
Except in special cases, capital can never overcome social status.
That's why Mother seemed to want me to enter a proper noble family, even as an adopted son-in-law.
For that, a good image is essential.
Erudition, proper etiquette, and a good reputation in high society.
Only such a young man would be considered for a good marriage prospect.
But cooking, of all things.
In noble society, cooking is the work of servants.
Even if it were a hobby, what noble's child would personally hold a knife and cut meat?
Furthermore, it was an offal dish.
The eldest son of a baronial family personally preparing parts that only the poor eat.
If rumors were to spread, all marriage proposals would surely be broken.
'Even if I told her to trust me, a parent's heart just can't do that.'
Because I know that I am the protagonist.
And now I have also become the disciple of a Great Sage.
So I can push forward with the alchemy route with conviction.
But Mother doesn't know any of that.
So I can completely understand why Mother wants to make me an adopted son-in-law.
If anyone was at fault, it was my fault for hiding these things.
"Huu..."
Mother let out a deep sigh.
Then she muttered as if to herself.
"In a few years, you'll be of age to find a fiancée, you know."
"Yes... that's right."
"Then you should start behaving yourself."
"I understand. I'll be careful."
I obediently bowed my head.
However, and I felt truly sorry to say this to Mother, I had no intention of stopping my cooking whatsoever.
In fact, when she brought up talk of engagement, I became even more convinced that I needed to hone my cooking skills.
'An area that others don't venture into is precisely the kind of domain a protagonist should pioneer.'
That's how genre tropes work.
A protagonist's special quality comes from doing things others don't.
Just like how the cold-hearted Northern Grand Duke falls hopelessly for the countryside young lady who farms with dirt on her hands,
and the arrogant Crown Prince becomes obsessed with the desserts of the cookie-baking young lady.
The metaphor is from romance fantasy, which is a bit much.
Anyway, it means that precisely because nobles avoid cooking, it's worth establishing as part of my persona.
'I'll have to plan a new route so I don't get caught...'
Still, as a son, it wasn't my duty to make my mother drench her handkerchief alone in her room.
So starting tomorrow, I'd show a little sincerity and decide on sneaking in and out of the kitchen.
'I have been going in and out too openly until now.'
For now, I should start by using the back door instead of brazenly going through the hallway.
I suppressed my true feelings and pointed to the wide front door that led from the main hall to the kitchen.
"From now on, I will not be using that door."
It was a sincerity that, looking up to the heavens, contained not a single shred of a lie.
Because I wouldn't be using that door. Anyway, it was sincere.
But perhaps because my sincerity was too intense.
Mother's eyes wavered instead.
"..."
Mother pressed her lips together for a moment.
Then she carefully opened her mouth.
"...Once in a while is okay."
"?"
"It's all for your own good, but I'm worried it will be too hard on you. About once a month... Mom will turn a blind eye."
Mother's voice softened.
"I'm so sorry for stopping you from doing what you love."
"..."
Faced with Mother's blind affection, her eyes welling with tears, I could only bite my lip hard.
For some reason, I felt less like a protagonist and more like an extremely filial son.
*
In any case, a promise to Mother is a promise.
But that was no reason not to eat the food I had made.
Today's dinner was Tartare de cœur à la moelle.
Translated into Korean, it's Yukhoe. Only, this one was served with buttery bone marrow and some attention to plating.
I sat in my designated seat and spoke to the earlier guest already seated to my right.
"You washed your hands, right, Erika?"
"O-Of course, Teacher."
Erika replied, extremely tense.
Normally, with Erika's social status, she wouldn't be able to sit here.
As a mere assistant, not even a formal bodyguard, there was no way someone in her ambiguous position could sit at a family meal like this.
But Father often invited Erika to meals like this.
'It means he acknowledges Erika's talent that much.'
When nobles in this world discover a promising mage, they go beyond personal patronage and invite them to meals.
They eat the same food and drink the same wine to build a connection.
This is because Mages have a very high chance of either creating a new family or joining an existing one.
In some cases, families even bind them through adoption or marriage.
Considering that, an invitation to dinner was not particularly special treatment.
'Which is why I prepared six dishes today.'
Though the person in question was still going through an ordeal trying to adapt to such treatment.
Perhaps finding her state pitiful, Mother, who sat across from us, spoke.
"Miss Erika. Please, relax."
"Ye-Yes! Madam!"
Mother's attempt to make her comfortable wasn't very effective.
She answered with her back ramrod straight, just like when she had first come up from the Limbus Pit.
However, there was one small difference from back then.
She, too, now fully understood her own worth.
'She said she was also learning the mindset of a Mage from Captain Shen.'
What Erika was learning from him wasn't just simple combat experience.
She was learning how a wizard, and furthermore a mage, is treated by society, and how to react while receiving that treatment.
"Th-Thank you for inviting me! Family Head!"
Though learning and practicing are two different things.
Since this was something time would solve, I decided to leave her be and focus on the meal.
Just then, Father, who had entered the dining room last, spoke.
"Yulian."
"Yes, Father."
"Did you make dinner again today?"
"...Did Mother tell you?"
"If you intend to hide it, why not start by changing the type of dish and its plating? Is there any other cook in the world who serves raw meat on a bone? And it's faster to count the days you didn't cook."
Hmm.
So Father caught on too.
But plating was a crucial matter, so I couldn't compromise.
"Sigh... A boy who will soon have a fiancée is still acting like this... He's a smart kid, so I'm sure he'll take care of himself, but."
Father lightly touched his brow and clicked his tongue.
Still, seeing as he didn't directly scold me to stop, it seemed that unlike Mother, he had half given up.
Father sat at the seat of honor of the long table and spread his napkin on his lap.
Mother put a bib on Fried, who was sitting next to her, and spread her own napkin on her lap.
Then I spread mine.
"Erika. You're not supposed to fold the napkin."
I told Erika, who was trying to copy me from the corner of her eye.
Before eating, I glanced one last time at the table where all the family had gathered.
One conspicuously empty seat caught my eye.
"Come to think of it, I don't see Freya today."
At my question, the head butler, who was helping prepare the meal nearby, answered with a light bow.
"Ah, the Young Lady said she would be dining separately in her room today. She's had a slight fever and a cough since this afternoon."
"A cough? Is it a cold?"
"Yes. It seems she's caught a cold, perhaps due to the change of seasons. In case she might pass it to others, she decided to eat in her room today."
Aha, a cold.
That child's cold was like an annual event.
She would invariably catch a cold whenever the seasons changed.
'Did she have measles at some point?'
When Freya was young, I wasn't in the main building, so I don't know for sure.
But seeing how often she gets colds, it's quite plausible.
The reason measles is scary is that the measles virus erases all the memory of the immune system.
That's why someone who had measles once would remain vulnerable to colds for several years afterward.
'Or she could just have a constitution that's prone to catching colds.'
However, this cold seemed a little different from other times.
"But this year's cold is a bit severe. It's not just a cough; she can't even get out of bed."
Hearing that, I thought it might not be a cold, but the flu.
"Did you call a healer by any chance?"
"I already did. It seems they will arrive after the meal. Are you going to see them?"
"Of course, I should."
It's not that I don't trust healers.
In a world setting without doctors, their skills are outstanding enough to perfectly replace them.
The reason for my observation was purely to see healing magic.
"After the meal, I'll take something for her to eat and go up."
"Indeed, it's best to avoid a raw meat dish like this when one has a fever. I'll tell the head chef to send up some warm soup."
Father nodded calmly and picked up his fork.
"We've chatted for too long. Let's eat."
I, too, smiled lightly and picked up my fork.
"Yes, let's eat before it gets cold. Ah, before that, may I say a word as the cook who made this dish?"
Then, an interesting phrase came to mind, and I stopped my fork.
Father looked puzzled but nodded.
While everyone had paused their forks.
I received the family's undivided attention and offered a pre-meal greeting.
"I never serve a dish without soul. So please, savor it with yours."
*
"Hamburg steak! It looks like Hamburg steak!"
With Fried's cheerful shout, the meal ended very satisfactorily.
Father and Mother, who had initially flinched at the fact that it was a heart dish, were busy moving their forks without a word after taking a bite.
"How strange. It's an offal dish, but there's no gamey smell at all."
"This aroma... is it butter? Hmm? Bone marrow, you say? You know a strange recipe."
It seemed both of them were pleased with the dish.
For the record, Erika ate it just fine from the start.
She was a child who had once plunged her head into a bucket of pooled blood.
A mere dish made from a heart could never upset her stomach.
"Lick."
"Erika. Stop licking the bone."
"Ehh. But this is the good stuff."
And so, the satisfying dinner came to an end.
I smiled lightly and wiped my mouth with a napkin.
The servants cleared the dining room after the meal was over.
I received the tray with the warm chicken soup and herbal tea that I had previously instructed the kitchen to prepare.
"We could have done that..."
"No, it's fine. I'll go myself, so I can check on Freya's condition."
Just in case, I didn't forget to bring my medical bag as well.
"Well then, I'll go check on Freya's condition."
"Yes, please do. If her fever is severe, let me know immediately."
"Yes, Father."
Leaving Mother and Father behind, I walked down the quiet 2nd-floor hallway, holding the tray.
Freya's room was at the end of the 2nd-floor hallway,
at the opposite end from my own room.
Knock, knock.
"Freya. May I come in?"
There was no answer.
Instead, an unfamiliar voice came from within.
— "Please come in, Young Master."
I knew at once that it was the voice of the healer Father had called.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
As I entered Freya's room, I saw the earlier guest.
Next to the canopy bed where Freya lay.
The face of the healer looking down at Freya was stiff.
"How is she, Sister?"
"W-Well..."
A strand of brown hair, soaked in sweat, stuck out from between the priestess's head scarf.
Her veil was also soaked with sweat, showing at a glance how much effort this priestess had poured out for Freya.
The priestess opened her mouth with a troubled expression.
"It's... strange. I'm sure I cast healing magic, but the fever isn't going down."
"It's not going down?"
"No. In fact..."
I glared at the priestess.
Startled, the priestess prostrated herself before me.
"I-I'm sorry! Please, spare my life...!"
"..."
A priest who fails to heal a noble can find their life in danger.
Especially if the priest doesn't have a special connection.
That's why I had caused such a misunderstanding when I was wearing the crow mask.
"I swear to God, I did my best!"
"...Do you have any divine power left?"
"W-Well... only a tiny bit..."
This place lacks any holy symbols, and on top of that, it's night, not day.
She probably cast Heal once or twice and ran out of divine power.
I met the eyes of the priestess, who was furtively watching my reaction.
And,
"For now, start praying and gather your divine power. In the meantime, I will examine my sister."
"What?"
"Let's just say I'm something of an aspiring healer... I know how to check."
I took the flustered healer's place,
and moved closer to the canopy bed, from which shallow breath sounds could be heard.
Freya lay with the blanket pulled up to her chin.
Half-closed, hazy eyes were looking at me.
"...Old...er brother?"
"Freya. Can you talk?"
"..."
No answer came back.
I examined Freya's face closely.
Beyond her half-closed eyes, I saw a dull focus.
"Freya. Open your eyes."
Her eyes opened slowly.
Eye response, 3 points.
"Where are you right now?"
"...I don't know."
She answers, albeit slowly.
But there is some confusion.
Verbal response, 4 points.
"Squeeze my hand tight."
Slender fingers gripped my hand weakly.
She follows the command.
Motor response, 6 points.
'Total score: 13. Mild Impairment of Consciousness.'
A 13 out of 15 isn't at a dangerous level yet.
But a simple cold or flu wouldn't cause a decreased consciousness.
In other words, this was a clear abnormal situation.
'Let's check the fever first.'
I placed the back of my hand on her forehead.
I took the mercury thermometer from my house call bag and placed it under her armpit.
'What the.'
The thermometer fluctuated between 39 and 41.
"When did you cast the healing magic?"
"Ab-About an hour ago."
"You said the fever hasn't subsided since then, but has it gotten worse?"
"...Yes. I think so."
I checked Freya's face again.
Her cheeks were flushed reddish.
It looks like she's flushed because of the fever, but.
Poke.
"Umm..."
Even when I pressed it lightly with my index finger, it didn't turn pale.
Normally, the pressed spot should turn white and then red again.
'Non-blanching erythema...?'
This is not a simple reaction to a cold.
As that fact flashed through my mind, my gaze turned to Freya's half-closed eyes.
"Freya. Let me see your eyes for a moment."
I carefully lifted Freya's eyelid.
Bloodshot red sclera.
The entire conjunctiva was covered in red capillaries.
However, there was no eye crust.
'Conjunctival injection without discharge.'
A physical symptom indicating a systemic infection.
I thought it might be vasculitis, or perhaps sepsis.
After that, I examined her entire body, one part at a time.
Dry lips. Fingernails turning blue. A rapid pulse, and wet sounds from her breathing.
And, I could feel a hard lump in her left abdomen.
'Her spleen is enlarged...'
Numerous infectious diseases passed through my mind.
Measles? Whooping cough? Smallpox?
Just then, the priestess who had been praying quietly in the corner stood up and spoke.
"I-I've recovered a little. Now, one more time...!"
The moment I saw that, what my Teacher had recently taught me flashed through my mind.
— "Yulian. Healing magic isn't just about Heal. There are principles and types of healing magic..."
Before I could fully recall my Teacher's words, I turned to the priestess.
And I grabbed her wrist as she was about to reach for Freya and spoke.
"Stop right there."
"What?"
"I said, stop. Unless you intend to kill Freya."
"What do you mean..."
I looked down at the gasping Freya and said.
"It's the Demon Disease."
"What?!"
"Right now, Freya is afflicted with the Demon Disease."
I Was Mistaken for a Saint in a Dark