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The afternoon fell over the Roswaal mansion with such polished tranquility that Subaru found it suspicious.
There was no blood in the hallways. No bowel hunters crossing through doors with sick smiles. No forbidden libraries opening where they should not, nor blonde girls draining mana with the same naturalness someone would use to shake off a speck of dust. There were only the gardens receiving the golden tone of sunset, the windows shining from the outside, the aroma of dinner slowly forming from the kitchen, and the sound of Ram and Rem's footsteps moving through the mansion with that precision that made Subaru wonder if both of them had been born knowing how to walk with domestic authority.
He, for his part, had been born without any of those advantages.
"I can't feel my arms," Subaru murmured, sitting on the edge of a service chair, a folded cloth on his knees and his gaze lost toward infinity. "I also can't feel my pride. I think my pride went to live with the shirt that defeated me yesterday."
Ram, who was checking a pile of napkins he had folded, did not look up.
"The shirt probably rejected cohabitation."
"Ram, every word of yours is an arrow."
"Then Barusu should stop standing in front of the bow."
"That was almost philosophical. Cruel, but philosophical."
Ram placed a napkin on the table. It was badly folded. Not horribly badly, which for Subaru represented monumental progress, but badly enough for Ram to correct it with a single elegant movement of her fingers. The napkin went from looking like a resigned piece of cloth to becoming something worthy of a noble dining room. Subaru watched the change with the expression of someone who had just witnessed advanced magic.
"I don't understand how you do that."
"Ram folds the napkin."
"No. You execute an ancient secret technique of domestic geometry."
"Barusu seeks greatness in his failures so he does not have to admit they are simple."
Subaru brought a hand to his chest.
"There are mornings when I wonder whether you wake me up to train me or to practice verbal assassination."
"Both things can coexist."
Several meters away, outside, Link was discovering that dirt could get into places where dirt had no legal right to be.
He had spent a good part of the day helping with the gardens and outdoor maintenance. Under Rem's supervision, he had moved two heavy planters, reinforced a stone border, carried tools, cleaned a side path, and learned, with painful humility, that not every branch sticking out had to be cut with enthusiasm. His strength remained useful and dangerous in equal measure. He could lift a loaded wheelbarrow as if it were nothing, but if he forgot to loosen his fingers, the handle ended up marked. He could move sacks of soil with an ease that left Rem watching him in silence, but when trying to open one carefully, he would tear it too much and cause a small avalanche of fertilizer.
The mansion had begun adapting to him in a strange way: by not entrusting him with fragile things.
"Less pressure," Rem said.
Link, who was holding a hoe, loosened his fingers immediately.
"Yes, Rem."
"You do not need to always answer immediately."
"Understood."
"You also do not need to answer that."
Link closed his mouth.
Rem looked at him for a second and then turned her gaze back to the patch of soil he had been leveling. It had improved. It was not perfect, but it was cleaner than in the morning. The lines no longer looked like they had been made by an angry animal trying to write a threat into the ground. Rem noticed, and Link, who had begun learning to read minimal variations in her calm, felt that inspection did not come with negative judgment.
"It is better," she said.
Link almost smiled.
Almost.
"Thanks."
"You must still avoid sinking the tool too deeply."
The smile died, but not entirely.
"Yes."
Rem crouched beside an area where the soil was too compacted. She took the tool delicately, showed him the correct angle, the proper pressure, the way he should lift and release without ruining the texture. Link watched her hands. Not in the dumb, lovestruck way Subaru would have thrown in his face—though perhaps a little yes—but with genuine attention. Rem did not have the absurd strength he possessed, at least not in appearance, but each of her movements was efficient. She did not waste energy. She did not fight the tool. She guided it.
"You make it look easy," Link said.
"Because Rem knows how to do it."
"Fair answer."
"The secondary guest can learn too."
That phrase hit him harder than he expected.
It was not an exaggerated compliment. Rem did not do those. Nor was it a warm declaration of trust. It was only a possibility stated in a calm voice. But for Link, who had spent the last few days discovering that his body could become something monstrous, regenerate, sprout horns, and lose control, hearing that he could learn a simple task sounded almost like a promise of normality.
"I'll try," he said.
Rem nodded.
The day would have continued like that until dinner, with Subaru being crushed by napkins and Link by garden tools, if not for the aroma from the kitchen beginning to slip through the windows and change the axis of both their personal universes.
Subaru appeared first in the hallway leading to the service area, drawn by the smell as if he were a creature of noble instincts and desperate stomach. Link arrived shortly afterward from the garden, with dirt on his pants, sleeves rolled up, and an expression indicating that his soul had abandoned his body during the last explanation about the correct use of a hoe. They met near the kitchen, both staring at the door like two domesticated wolves before a banquet they had not been invited to.
"Do you smell it too?" Subaru asked.
Link closed his eyes for a second.
"Meat, broth, freshly warmed bread, something with herbs... and butter."
Subaru looked at him.
"That was way too specific."
Link opened his eyes.
"My sense of smell has been weird since I got here. Sometimes it's useful. Sometimes it's punishment."
"Can you smell if Ram is coming to insult us?"
"I don't need smell for that."
"Barusu. Secondary guest."
Both straightened.
Ram was behind them.
Subaru placed a hand over his chest.
"Confirmed. We don't need smell. Death appears on its own."
Ram observed them with indifference.
"If both of you have finished prowling around the kitchen like hungry animals, you may help prepare the dining room."
"I'm offended by the animals part," Subaru said.
Link raised one hand.
"I'll accept 'hungry.'"
Ram looked at him.
"The secondary guest always accepts anything involving food."
"I have a very serious metabolic crisis."
"Ram would call it excessive appetite."
"That sounds less dramatic."
Rem came out of the kitchen at that moment, carrying a tray of clean utensils. Link turned toward her by reflex and then tried to pretend he had only been looking at the tray. Subaru noticed. Ram noticed too. Rem, in all probability, also noticed, but she was the only one merciful enough not to say it.
"Dinner will be ready in approximately one hour," Rem said. "Roswaal-sama requested that all guests dine in the main dining room."
"All?" Subaru asked.
"Emilia-sama, Puck-sama if he decides to accompany her, Beatrice-sama if she agrees to leave the library, Roswaal-sama, Ram, Rem, and you two."
Subaru brought a hand to his chin.
"A mansion family dinner. That sounds peaceful, elegant, and potentially full of social humiliation."
"Barusu does not need to wait for dinner for that," Ram said.
"Thank you for confirming my fears."
Link, however, remained looking toward the kitchen.
There was something else in his expression. Not only hunger. Rem noticed at once.
"Does the secondary guest need something?"
Link took a moment to answer.
"I wanted to prepare something for dinner."
Subaru turned toward him with an immediate smile.
"Oh. The chef awakens."
"Don't start."
"I haven't said anything bad."
"Your face already said three things."
Rem tilted her head slightly.
"Do you wish to prepare another dish?"
"Not exactly. A dessert. Something cold. Well... it should be cold. I don't know how to solve that part here, but maybe with magic or ice it can be done."
Ram narrowed her eyes.
"The secondary guest intends to modify Roswaal-sama's dinner without being asked."
"I intend to contribute a dessert. That sounds less criminal."
"It depends on the result."
Subaru raised a finger.
"In Link's defense, his rice pudding yesterday was a revelation. Even Ram said 'acceptable' twice. In her language, that's equivalent to a statue weeping with emotion."
"Barusu talks too much about languages he does not understand," Ram said.
But she did not deny the rice pudding part.
Rem looked at Link.
"What dessert do you wish to prepare?"
Link ran a hand through his hair, leaving a small mark of dirt near his temple.
"Lemon Carlota."
Subaru opened his eyes.
"That sounds elegant."
"It's not elegant. It's simple. Very good, but simple. Layers of cookie and lemon cream. I need something like condensed milk, evaporated milk, dry cookies, lemons or some similar sour fruit, maybe a little zest, sugar if necessary, and something to chill it."
Rem processed the list with professional attention.
"I do not know that dessert, but some ingredients may have equivalents. The mansion has sweetened reduced milk for baking, cream, dry tea cookies, and several citruses in the cold storage. Beatrice-sama or Emilia-sama could help with the chilling if necessary."
"Cold storage?"
"A room preserved with magic and insulation to keep certain ingredients."
Subaru clapped one hand into the other.
"Magic refrigerator! This world refuses to make sense, but at least it respects desserts."
Link looked at Rem, and for the first time that afternoon, his exhaustion seemed to clear.
"Can I try?"
Rem looked at Ram.
Ram sighed.
"If Rem supervises, Ram will not oppose it. But if the dessert fails, Barusu will be responsible for having encouraged the secondary guest's confidence."
"Why me?!" Subaru protested.
"Because Barusu was smiling."
"Smiling isn't a crime!"
"In your case, it usually precedes one."
Rem led Link toward the provisions area, with Subaru following at a distance he called "moral support" and Ram called "authorized obstruction." The main kitchen was occupied with dinner, so Rem led them to a side room where baking ingredients were stored. It was cooler than the rest of the mansion, with shelves full of jars, sacks, boxes, baskets, sealed containers, and small barrels. To Subaru, everything looked like potential food. To Link, the place was almost overwhelming.
His sense of smell awakened before his eyes did.
It was not like smelling a served dish. It was much more intense. Layers upon layers of aromas stacked in the air: sugar, flour, butter, milk, dried fruit, apples, citrus peels, sweet spices, yeast, wood, ceramic, cloth, oil, dried herbs. Link closed his eyes by reflex, feeling each smell tug his attention in a different direction.
Rem watched him carefully.
"Do you feel unwell?"
"No. Just... there's too much."
Subaru approached.
"Did your nose go into tracker dog mode?"
"More or less."
"That's useful, isn't it?"
Link slowly opened his eyes.
"It can be."
He looked at the shelves. If he guided himself only by sight, it would take a while to identify equivalents. He did not know the names of those ingredients. Some containers had no marks he could read. Others had labels in the local script. Rem could help, of course, but part of him wanted to try something. Not to show off. To understand his body in a situation that was not fighting, death, or fear.
He breathed deeply.
He searched for acid.
The smell of real lemon was impossible to confuse: bright, fresh, with an edge that seemed to wake the tongue even before tasting it. He did not find it immediately. There were sweet fruits, something like orange, a bitter peel, citrus herbs. Then, in the back, inside a basket covered by damp cloth, he felt it. Smaller, more intense than a common lemon, with a green, lively acidity that made him salivate.
He walked to the basket and lifted the cloth.
Inside were yellow-green fruits, round, with thin skin.
"These," he said.
Rem approached.
"They are lugal fruits. They are used for some sauces and beverages. They are very sour."
Link took one, smelled it, and smiled.
"They'll work."
Subaru looked at the fruit with interest.
"Can I try?"
"If you bite it straight, you're probably going to cry."
"I've cried over less."
"That is true," Ram said from the entrance.
Subaru lowered his hand.
Link kept searching.
The sweetened milk was more difficult. It was not exactly condensed milk as he remembered it. There was a sealed container with a thick cream that smelled milky and sweet, too heavy to drink but perfect to mix. He found another jar with reduced milk, less sweet, softer, which could imitate the role of evaporated milk. Rem confirmed both uses with a brief explanation about the mansion's baking.
Then came the cookies.
That was nearly a tragedy.
"I need dry cookies," Link said. "Not too sweet, not filled, not soft. Something that absorbs the cream without falling apart immediately."
Rem opened a box of fine tea cookies.
Link took one, smelled it, broke it carefully, and tasted a corner.
"Too much butter."
Subaru looked at him as if he had seen a new facet of a monster.
"You can smell that it has too much butter?"
"I can taste it."
"I can taste cookies too. That's a skill I want to train."
Ram looked at him.
"Barusu will not be assigned to quality control."
"My dream died before it was born."
Rem opened another box. These were paler, thin, with a soft aroma of toasted flour and moderate sugar. Link tried one and his eyes lit up faintly.
"These. They're not the same, but they work."
Subaru tried to take one.
Ram struck his hand with a wooden spoon that had appeared from somewhere.
"Ow!"
"The cookies are for the dessert."
"I was only evaluating texture!"
"Barusu evaluated pain."
Link let out a laugh while gathering the ingredients. Little by little, the idea began taking real shape. It was not exact Carlota. It could not be. Nothing in Lugunica was exactly as he remembered. But the principle was there: acidity, cream, sweetness, layers, cold. A no-bake dessert, simple, the kind that could be made for many people and seemed more elaborate than it was if arranged well.
Rem prepared the side table, the utensils, and a deep ceramic mold. Link washed his hands and then washed the lugal fruits. Subaru was authorized, under strict supervision, to hold a container. Ram watched him as if guarding a dangerous weapon.
"Do not move it," Ram said.
"I am holding it perfectly."
"Breathe less near the container."
"That's persecution!"
Link cut the fruits and squeezed the juice carefully. The sour aroma filled the side kitchen. Subaru made a face just from smelling it.
"That wakes up even memories I don't have."
"Perfect," Link said. "If it doesn't hit your nose, it doesn't work."
He mixed the sweet cream with the reduced milk. At first, the texture did not come out right. Too heavy. He added more sour juice, little by little, tasting with the tip of a spoon, adjusting not by numbers but by memory. Rem watched every movement.
"You are not following a fixed proportion."
"I don't have the same ingredients, so the exact recipe doesn't work. You have to find the point."
"What point?"
Link mixed until the cream began to thicken slightly from the acidity. He lifted it with the spoon and watched how it fell in a soft ribbon.
"This one. Neither runny nor heavy. It has to cover the cookie and sink in a little, but not turn everything into soup."
Subaru looked at Ram.
"That was professional."
Ram did not answer.
Rem took mental notes, or perhaps literal ones, because she had obtained a small notebook and begun writing some observations. Link noticed the gesture.
"Are you taking notes?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"If the dessert is suitable, Rem will be able to reproduce it for the mansion."
Link went still for half a second.
"Ah."
He did not know why that hit him so much. Perhaps because it meant that this recipe, a simple thing from his memory, could remain there. Not as a monster, not as an anomaly, not as the "secondary guest." As flavor. As something someone else could make even when he was not present.
"Then write that you shouldn't overdo it with the juice at the start," he said, pretending normality. "Add it little by little. If it turns too acidic, you fix it with more cream, but if it turns too sweet, it gets boring."
Rem nodded and wrote.
Subaru leaned toward Link with a soft smile, less mocking than usual.
"Look at you. Chef, gardener, occasional monster, and now pastry master."
"Don't start making it weird."
"I won't. This time I mean it properly."
Link looked at him. Subaru was not entirely joking.
"Thanks."
"Besides, I need you to teach me so I can impress Emilia-tan someday."
"There it is. You ruined it."
"I lasted longer than usual."
The construction of the Carlota began with a layer of cream at the bottom of the mold, then cookies, then cream, then cookies again. Link worked carefully, more carefully than with any garden tool. Strength did not help here. In fact, it got in the way. He had to place each cookie without breaking it, cover the gaps, adjust edges, not crush the layers, not leave dry areas. It was a different kind of control, more delicate, almost therapeutic. Rem helped him by cutting some cookies to fill spaces. Subaru, after several pleas and a dramatic oath, received permission to place three.
The first one ended up crooked.
Ram looked at him.
Subaru corrected it without anyone saying anything.
"I'm learning under silent threat."
"Finally," Ram said.
The Carlota ended with a smooth layer of cream and fine zest from the skin of the lugal fruits on top. Link did not have a modern grater, but with a small knife and Rem's patience, he managed to get fine strips, avoiding the bitter white part. The final aroma was fresh, sweet, and sour. Light. Very different from the rice pudding of the previous day. Where that had been warm and familiar, this was cold in intention, bright, made to cleanse the palate after a heavy dinner.
"Now it needs to chill," Link said.
Subaru pointed toward the hallway.
"Do we call the refrigerator cat?"
"Puck-sama is not a utensil," Rem said.
"No, of course, honorable spirit of food preservation."
Ram closed her eyes.
"Barusu wants to die before dinner."
The solution came through Emilia.
Rem went to request help and returned with her a few minutes later. Emilia entered the side kitchen with Puck floating near her shoulder, curious about the aroma. Link straightened immediately, not out of infatuation—his problem still had blue hair and a maid uniform—but because Emilia had that way of making the room seem a little less heavy.
"Rem told me you prepared a dessert and need to chill it," Emilia said.
"Yes. I don't want to bother you, but if it stays at normal temperature, it won't set properly."
Puck floated over the mold and sniffed.
"It smells interesting. Sweet and sour. Lia, this looks fun."
"Can you help?" Emilia asked.
"Of course. Nothing too strong, or we'll freeze it like stone."
Link raised one hand.
"Please don't turn it into stone. I already had trouble with stones today."
Rem looked at him.
"The stones were not the problem."
"Rem, please, I'm in front of Emilia. Give me this one."
Rem blinked.
"Very well."
Subaru brought both hands to his face.
"She granted him one. This is gardening romance."
Link turned toward him.
"I'm going to put you in the mold."
Emilia laughed softly, not understanding the entire dynamic but enjoying the less tragic energy of the group. Puck descended over the Carlota and released a cold, controlled, gentle breeze. It was not an explosion of ice or combat magic. It was delicate chilling, wrapping the mold with a layer of icy air that made the cream settle little by little. Link watched attentively, fascinated despite himself.
"That's incredible," he said.
Puck puffed out his tiny chest.
"Naturally. I'm very talented."
"And very useful for desserts."
"Lia, I think I'm being promoted from spirit to baking assistant."
Emilia smiled.
"As long as it doesn't bother you."
"For food, I can tolerate it."
Subaru pointed at Puck.
"Ice spirit, protector of Emilia-tan, and guardian of the Carlota. His legend grows."
"I like how that sounds," Puck said.
Ram sighed.
"The kitchen has become unnecessarily noisy."
"But productive," Link said.
Ram looked at the mold.
"That will depend on the flavor."
"I accept the challenge."
Dinner arrived with the mansion wrapped in warm light.
The main dining room was prepared with the usual formality. Roswaal occupied the head of the table, dressed as if every meal were a private theatrical performance. Emilia sat nearby, with Puck settled on her shoulder before deciding to float above the table. Beatrice appeared after much insistence and probably because Puck told her there would be a new dessert; she denied that was the reason, of course. Subaru and Link occupied their seats as still-clumsy new employees, though Roswaal insisted that, for now, they dine as guests while their positions were fully formalized. Ram and Rem served, but participated enough in the conversation for Subaru to feel that every bite could come accompanied by criticism.
Dinner was good. Very good. The mansion's food did not disappoint. Subaru ate with gratitude and visible effort not to make embarrassing sounds. Link ate plenty, though less savagely than at breakfast, perhaps because he was saving space for dessert with the seriousness of a military strategist.
Roswaal noticed.
"Link-kun is unusually moderate tonight."
"I'm managing internal resources," Link replied.
Subaru nodded.
"The resource is called dessert."
Emilia looked at Link with curiosity.
"Rem said you prepared something special."
Link suddenly felt more nervous than when he had carried the old planter.
"Yes. It's a recipe... from my homeland. Adapted. I don't know if it came out the same, but it should be good."
"After what you made yesterday, I'm really looking forward to trying it," Emilia said.
Subaru elbowed him under the table.
Link resisted the urge to return it.
Beatrice, sitting with an annoyed expression, spoke without looking at him directly.
"Betty hopes it is not too sweet, I suppose."
"It has lemon. Well, something similar. It's sweet and sour."
"That sounds acceptable."
Subaru whispered:
"Before even trying it, you're already close to approval. You're going strong."
Ram and Rem entered with the dessert.
The lemon Carlota appeared in square portions, served on small plates. The cream had set well, the cookie layers were visible in the cuts, and the zest on the surface gave it a fresh color that contrasted with the elegant dishes. It did not look exactly as Link remembered, but it was close enough for his chest to tighten.
Rem placed the first portion in front of Roswaal, then Emilia, Beatrice, Subaru, and Link. Ram helped with the service, and finally both left small portions for themselves when Roswaal allowed it with an amused gesture.
"What a curious appearance," Roswaal said. "Layers, cream, and a very lively citrus aroma. Link-kun, you should know you have raised expectations quite a bit."
"Don't do that before they try it."
"But it is much more fun that way."
Subaru took his spoon as if about to participate in a ritual.
"Historic moment. First lemon Carlota of the Roswaal mansion."
"Don't call it that if it turns out bad," Link said.
"If it turns out bad, we'll call it citrus experiment number one."
Everyone tried it.
The silence that followed was different from the tense silences of previous days. It was not fear, nor discomfort, nor a forbidden word about nearly extinct races. It was a silence of flavor. Of evaluation. Of soft surprise.
Emilia was the first to react.
"It's very delicious."
Link let out the air without realizing it.
"Yeah?"
"Yes. It's fresh. Sweet, but not too much. And the sourness makes you want to keep eating."
Puck had already buried his face in his portion with a total lack of spiritual dignity.
"Confirmed. Very good. Cold, creamy, with a nice acidic hit. Lia, we should ask him to make more."
Beatrice tried another spoonful with an expression that tried to remain indifferent.
"It is not bad, I suppose."
Subaru pointed at Link with his spoon.
"That is huge! Beatrice just said it's not bad! In forbidden-library language, that means your dessert entered the sacred archive!"
"Barusu exaggerates even when interpreting Beatrice-sama," Ram said.
Beatrice looked at Subaru.
"Barusu should not speak for Betty."
Subaru froze.
"You call me Barusu too?"
"It is shorter, I suppose."
"My name is losing territory."
Roswaal tasted calmly, closed his eyes for a moment, and then smiled.
"Delicious. Very balanced. The acidity awakens the appetite even after dinner, and the texture is light. Link-kun, it seems your culinary abilities are more refined than I expected from someone assigned to the garden."
"I'm a gardener, not a living punishment from the kitchen."
"An important distinction."
Ram tried her portion.
Link waited.
So did Subaru.
Ram took another spoonful.
"Acceptable."
Subaru struck the table with both hands, not with enough strength to break anything, but with absolute drama.
"Third acceptable! Link, you are officially a chef approved by Ram! That should come with a medal, a noble title, or at least the right not to be insulted for one hour!"
"Barusu still does not understand the word 'acceptable,'" Ram said.
"I understand it emotionally."
Rem tasted in silence.
Link stopped looking at everyone else.
Rem took one spoonful, then another smaller one. She did not speak immediately. She observed the portion, the cream, the cookie layers, the clean cut. Her expression remained calm, but Link had already learned that Rem did not need grand gestures to say a lot.
"The texture came out well," she said. "The cookies absorbed the cream without breaking too much. The sourness of the lugal fruit is strong, but the sweetness balances it. Rem believes the dessert can be served again if Roswaal-sama wishes."
Link felt relief drop through his shoulders.
"Thank you, Rem."
"Rem also believes the secondary guest used his senses well to find the appropriate ingredients."
Subaru opened his eyes with interest.
"Oh, right. That was incredible. I saw him sniff the storage room like a gourmet hound. He found the weird lemons without reading labels."
Emilia looked at Link in surprise.
"Are your senses that sharp?"
Link moved the spoon between his fingers, uncomfortable.
"Sometimes. I don't always know how to control it. In the storage room, there were too many smells, but I could search for the citrus by its aroma. And distinguish cookies. And the cream."
Roswaal rested his chin on one hand.
"Fascinating. Your capabilities express themselves not only in combat or physical strength, but also in perception. That opens veeeery interesting possibilities."
Link looked at him.
"Don't say it like you're going to send me to smell the entire mansion."
"I had not thought of that."
"Now you have."
"Now I have."
Link closed his eyes with resignation.
Beatrice ate another spoonful.
"If his sense of smell is that refined, perhaps he can detect spoiled ingredients before others. That would be useful, I suppose."
"Great destiny," Subaru said. "From red monster to sanitary taster."
Ram looked at Subaru.
"Barusu should not mock him. His current usefulness remains below detecting rotten food."
"Ram, I was enjoying dessert."
"And Ram enjoyed correcting you."
Emilia smiled, but her gaze returned to Link with concern.
"Does it bother you to use your senses like that? I mean... if they are part of what happened to you."
Link took a moment to answer.
The question was too kind. That was the problem with Emilia. She did not ask like Beatrice, who seemed to want to classify him. She did not ask like Roswaal, who smiled while measuring possibilities. She asked like someone worried whether using a strange part of himself hurt him.
"I don't know," he finally said. "In a fight, everything feels horrible. Like my body decides things before I do. But this was different. It was... useful. Almost normal. Searching for lemon for a dessert doesn't feel the same as trying not to die."
Subaru lowered his gaze a little.
Rem listened carefully too, though she said nothing.
Puck floated over his empty plate.
"Then maybe you should practice with normal things. Food, gardens, simple smells. Before you need it for something dangerous."
"That sounds reasonable," Link said.
"Of course. I'm adorable and wise."
Beatrice scoffed.
"Puck praises himself too much, I suppose."
"I only speak truths."
Dinner continued with a lighter tone after that. Subaru tried to convince Link that he should open a dessert line "to strengthen diplomatic relations." Link replied that he should first learn not to spill tea. Emilia asked whether Carlota could be prepared with other fruits, and Link explained that yes, though lemon or something acidic was important. Rem added some details about which mansion ingredients could work better. Ram suggested that, if the secondary guest was going to keep cooking, he should clean afterward with the same enthusiasm with which he ate. Subaru said that was a labor trap, and Ram replied that work usually seemed like a trap to those who preferred avoiding it.
Roswaal observed the scene with his usual smile, but for once he did not intervene too much. He seemed satisfied letting the table breathe.
Link did not say it, but that dinner felt strange in a way that was almost frightening.
It felt good.
Not perfect. Not completely safe. Not without shadows. Nothing in that mansion was that simple. But there was food, voices, jokes, criticism, dessert, a recipe rescued from his memory, and people eating it at a lit table. Beatrice pretended indifference while finishing her portion. Puck shamelessly asked for more. Emilia smiled. Subaru complained with his mouth full until Rem reminded him not to speak while eating. Ram said "acceptable" as if it were not praise. Rem had written down the recipe with enough precision to reproduce it.
And Link, who had arrived in that world among blood, death, and a truck full of weapons, had managed to contribute something that did not hurt anyone.
When dinner ended, Rem began collecting the plates. Link stood immediately.
"I'll help."
Rem looked at him.
"It is not necessary."
"Ram said if I cook, I clean."
Ram, from the other side of the table, closed her eyes.
"Ram approves that the secondary guest remembers useful instructions."
Subaru raised a hand.
"I'll help too."
Ram looked at him.
"Barusu will help without breaking dishes."
"That condition greatly reduces my enthusiasm."
"Good."
Subaru and Link ended up in the kitchen, washing and drying utensils under Rem and Ram's supervision. Subaru nearly dropped a plate, but caught it at the last second and celebrated in silence with both fists. Link washed the Carlota mold with reverent care, as if the container had participated in an honorable battle. Rem corrected the way he used the cloth. Ram corrected Subaru's entire existence with one look.
Night closed over the mansion.
Later, when both returned to their room, Subaru dropped onto the bed like a martyr of domestic service. Link reached the sofa with slow steps, tired but strangely calm.
"Hey," Subaru said, staring at the ceiling.
"What?"
"Today wasn't so bad."
Link removed a small dried cream stain from the back of his hand.
"No."
"We worked, you cooked, everyone ate, no one died, Beatrice approved something, Ram said acceptable, Rem wrote down your recipe, and Emilia smiled."
"When you say it like that, it sounds too good."
Subaru turned his head toward him.
"Does that scare you?"
Link did not answer right away.
Outside, the garden was dark. The moon barely illuminated the edges of the trees. The mansion remained silent, that elegant silence that during the day seemed like peace and at night could seem like surveillance. Link looked at his hands. The same hands that could break tools, hold weapons, pull invisible claws from a nature he did not understand. The same hands that had arranged cookies, squeezed lemon, and washed a mold.
"Yes," he admitted.
Subaru did not make a joke.
"Me too."
The silence between them was not uncomfortable. It was one of those silences where words would have gotten in the way. They had learned too quickly that good things could break. That a smile could be trapped before a slash. That a peaceful dinner could be only the space between one tragedy and another. But even knowing that, or perhaps precisely because they knew it, that night had value.
"Tomorrow you should make another dessert," Subaru finally said.
Link snorted.
"Tomorrow you should clean a room without receiving a diagnosis from Ram."
"You touch sensitive points."
"You started it."
Subaru smiled toward the ceiling.
"Good night, chef gardener."
Link settled on the sofa and closed his eyes.
"Good night, useless butler."
"Useless apprentice butler. Respect my rank."
"No."
Subaru let out a tired laugh.
The mansion became silent again. Somewhere, perhaps in the library, Beatrice would be reading. In another wing, Emilia would be resting after a long day. Puck would be sleeping or pretending to. Ram and Rem would continue completing final tasks with efficiency that seemed impossible. Roswaal, probably, would be smiling in some too-elegant room, thinking about things no one else knew.
And in the room of the two new employees, one on the bed and the other on the sofa, Subaru Natsuki and Link closed their eyes with exhausted bodies, full stomachs, and the dangerous hope that the next day the mansion would continue being only a mansion.
For that night, at least, the lemon Carlota had chilled more than dinner.
It had cooled the fear enough to let them sleep.