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The night of the fourth day arrived with a dangerous calm, the kind that, in the Roswaal mansion, seemed too orderly to be completely innocent.
After returning from Auram Village, the routine had tried to recover its usual shape with the same insistence Ram used when correcting a badly folded napkin. The provisions were checked, separated, and stored; the new tools were taken to the outer storage room; the sacks of grain were stacked in the pantry under Rem's supervision, who did not let Subaru get too close to anything that could spill, break, or become a domestic tragedy. Link, for his part, carried the heaviest things with the quiet dignity of someone trying to prove he could be useful without destroying private property, though Subaru did not miss the chance to remind him that his "work date" with Rem had been suspiciously long.
Dinner was calmer than on other nights. Roswaal was not present at the main table. According to Ram, the master of the mansion had withdrawn for matters that required his attention and was not to be disturbed, a phrase so rehearsed and perfect that Subaru nearly asked whether "matters" meant "mysterious noble things" or "nighttime makeup ritual." He did not, because Ram was serving soup at that moment, and Subaru had developed enough survival instinct not to challenge a woman armed with hot liquid. Beatrice did not appear at first either, which surprised no one; Puck said Betty only left the library when the universe made the mistake of offering her something interesting enough.
The problem was that Subaru heard that.
And so did Link.
And, of course, Puck heard both of their thoughts before either of them said a word.
"Something interesting enough, huh?" Subaru said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the little spirit on Emilia's shoulder. "That sounds like a challenge."
Emilia, who was finishing her meal with impeccable manners, looked at Subaru with immediate suspicion.
"Subaru, when you say that, it almost always means someone will end up apologizing."
"Not necessarily. Sometimes it means someone will end up eating."
Link, seated a little lower at the table in simple outdoor work clothes, though with no visible dirt on his boots thanks to Rem's insistence, looked up with genuine interest.
"Eating doesn't sound bad."
Ram closed her eyes.
"The gardener hears the word 'eating' and regains energy."
"It's a healthy biological reaction," Link replied.
"In your case, it seems like a species survival reaction."
"I can't deny that without knowing enough about my current species."
Rem, who was standing by the wall awaiting instructions, looked at him when she heard that comment. It was not a long look, but attentive enough that Link lowered his gaze to his plate and pretended the spoon deserved his full concentration. There were still things left unsaid around his horns, his mana, the word Oni, and the way Rem and Ram reacted when he appeared in the conversation as something more than a simple new worker. But that night, for some reason, Link did not want to touch anything that hurt. He wanted to do something simple. Something without blood, fear, or impossible explanations.
Puck floated from Emilia's shoulder until he hovered over the table, his tail swaying from side to side.
"Link knows how to make sweet things, right? The rice pudding was nice, and the Carlota too. Lia smiled quite a bit with that one."
Emilia blushed a little.
"Puck, you don't have to say it like that."
"But it's true. Besides, Betty pretended she didn't like it and still asked for a small portion afterward."
Subaru gently struck the table with one hand.
"I knew it! The library loli fell before the Latin power of pastry!"
"Barusu," Ram said.
"Yes."
"Do not say that phrase in front of Beatrice-sama again if you wish to keep your mana."
"Understood. Rewording: Beatrice was spiritually persuaded by a foreign dessert."
"Worse," Rem said.
Subaru lowered his shoulders.
"I'm losing against language."
Link, who had been listening while drinking water, set the glass on the table and looked at Puck.
"What exactly do you want?"
Puck smiled with the suspicious innocence of someone who had already decided on the crime.
"Something cold."
Subaru opened his eyes.
"Cold?"
"Sweet and cold," Puck corrected. "Preferably creamy. With some fruit. Or vanilla. Or both. Something I can eat before I have to fully rest."
Link went still.
For one second, he said nothing. Then his eyes gained that specific glint Subaru had already learned to fear and respect: the glint Link got when a recipe ignited in his head like a fuse.
"Ice cream," he said.
Subaru froze.
Emilia tilted her head.
"Ice cream?"
Rem repeated the word softly, as if trying to decide whether it sounded like a dish, a spell, or an accident.
"Ice cream?"
Ram looked at Link.
"The gardener is proposing edible ice."
"Not exactly ice," Link said, straightening. "It's sweet frozen cream that's been whipped. Well, there are many ways to make it. With milk, cream, sugar, flavoring, fruit. If done right, it's soft, cold, sweet. It's very common where I'm from."
Subaru placed both hands on the table, almost childishly excited.
"Ice cream. Link, brother, if you manage to make ice cream in this place, I forgive you for getting rid of me in the village so you could flirt with Rem."
Link slowly turned toward him.
"I was not flirting."
"Of course. I've also never said Emilia-tan with affectionate intent."
Emilia looked up.
"You haven't?"
Subaru sweated.
"That was a hypothetical example of obvious falsehood. Let's not review that sentence."
Puck floated around Link, happy.
"Then there's a majority. I vote for ice cream."
"I vote for ice cream," Subaru said without hesitation.
Emilia smiled, infected by the enthusiasm.
"I'm curious too."
Ram sighed.
"The majority vote has been reached without consulting those who will have to clean."
Rem looked at her sister.
"Rem will clean if necessary."
"Then Ram votes to observe the disaster from a safe distance."
Link stood from his chair.
"I need to check the kitchen and pantry. I promise nothing. If there are no ingredients, there is no miracle."
Subaru stood too.
"I'm going with you."
"No."
"What?"
"Not you."
"Why?"
Link pointed at him with immediate calm.
"Because if there's anything like sugar, fruit, or cream, you're going to stick your finger in it. If there's anything frozen, you're going to touch it. If there's something you don't understand, you're going to ask every fifteen seconds. And if Emilia comes to watch, you'll try to make yourself useful and end up spilling milk on something expensive."
Subaru opened his mouth.
He closed it.
He looked at Emilia.
"Emilia-tan, do you think I'm like that?"
Emilia avoided his gaze.
"I think you have a lot of enthusiasm."
"That was a kind condemnation."
Ram took the tray of empty plates.
"Barusu will stay and help clear the table."
"I've been defeated by domestic logistics!"
Link turned toward Rem without being able to help it.
"Could you...? I mean, would it be possible for you to help me find ingredients?"
Rem gave a small bow.
"If it is to prepare something that will be served in the mansion, Rem will supervise."
Link nodded with more seriousness than necessary.
"Thank you, Rem."
Subaru, who was being forced by Ram to gather plates, murmured:
"She'll supervise, he says. The man just won another kitchen date."
Link did not look at him, but raised one hand with two fingers pointed first at his own eyes and then toward Subaru, the universal sign for "I'm watching you." Subaru smiled like a happy criminal.
The kitchen received Link like a familiar battlefield.
It was not his home kitchen. It never would be. There were no appliances, no electricity, no modern containers, no familiar brands, no reliable measurements, and none of that warm disorder that made a family kitchen feel alive even when no one was cooking. But in these few days, he had learned to respect the mansion kitchen. It was large, organized, immaculate, and full of ingredients that, even when he did not always know them by name, he was beginning to understand by smell, texture, and behavior. Rem moved there with silent authority, opening shelves, showing containers, correcting positions, preparing bowls and utensils before Link even finished asking for them.
Puck followed them floating, though every so often his body grew slightly more translucent.
"Don't take too long," the spirit said. "I'm stretching my schedule for the sake of sweet science."
"This isn't science. It's cooking with improvised magic."
"That sounds even better."
Emilia arrived shortly afterward, more out of curiosity than any intention to intervene. She stayed by the entrance, watching with a small smile while Subaru tried to peek from behind her and Ram held him by the collar of his uniform with humiliating ease.
"Barusu has dishes to dry," Ram said.
"I can dry dishes and morally support from a distance!"
"Your moral support makes the atmosphere damp."
"How am I supposed to respond to that?"
"By drying dishes."
Link tried to ignore them and focused on the pantry. He needed milk, cream, sugar or clear honey, fruit, something similar to vanilla, and, if Puck was going to freeze it, a metal or ceramic container capable of withstanding cold without cracking. That was the basic plan. The problem was that local ingredients did not always announce themselves the way he wanted. There were reduced milks for baking, thick creams, sweet fruits, acidic fruits, herbs, spices, syrups, and sealed containers with names he could not read.
So he closed his eyes.
Rem, standing beside him, noticed.
"Will you use your sense of smell?"
"Yes. If I get dizzy, don't let Subaru say I died fighting a pantry."
"Rem will not allow Barusu to turn an emergency into a speech."
"Thanks."
He breathed.
At first, it was too much. Milk, wood, salt, flour, fruit, oil, herbs, yeast, butter, old ash from the stove, sugar, citrus, clean cloth, knife metal, and the soft scent of Rem near him, which he tried to push from his mind with the discipline of a monk at war with himself. He searched first for sweet dairy. The cream was where Rem had said, but there were two types: one lighter, one thicker. He took the thicker one for body and the lighter one to adjust texture. Then he searched for fruit.
Strawberry.
It did not need to be called that in this world to smell like it should. There was a small basket with similar red fruits, smaller than the strawberries from his memory, with a sweet and acidic aroma that immediately reminded him of desserts, smoothies, and markets. He found them under a damp cloth, at the back of the cold storage.
"These will work."
Rem checked the basket.
"They are seasonal red fruits. They are used for jams and some tarts."
Puck floated above the basket, sniffed, and smiled.
"That. I want that."
"It isn't made yet."
"But I already decided I want it."
"That's a threat of spiritual gluttony."
Then he searched for vanilla. That was harder. Real vanilla was not exactly common in any kitchen, not even in his world if one was talking about actual pods and not artificial extracts. But Roswaal's mansion had oddities. Roswaal was the type of person who, if he found a foreign spice useless for politics but useful for surprising guests, would probably buy it just to see what happened. Link smelled jars, spice bags, dried bark, dehydrated flowers. He found something similar at the back of a high shelf, inside a dark glass tube: long, thin, wrinkled pods, with a deep, sweet, floral, and warm aroma.
"This..." he murmured.
Rem approached.
"That spice is rarely used. Roswaal-sama bought it from a western merchant. It is not common in Lugunica."
Link opened the tube, and the smell hit him with delicious clarity.
"Vanilla. Or something very close."
Emilia stepped a little closer, curious.
"It smells really good."
"It's perfect for ice cream."
Subaru, from the entrance, raised his hand with a half-dried plate.
"I want to smell it too!"
Ram pulled him back.
"Barusu will dry dishes away from the expensive spice."
"I haven't even broken it yet!"
"Ram protects the future."
Link smiled, but his attention suddenly changed when something else brushed against his nose.
It was not vanilla. It was not fruit. It was not milk or sugar.
It was deep, bitter, earthy, with a warm darkness that made him open his eyes.
Cacao.
His entire body went still.
Rem looked at him.
"Did you find something?"
Link did not answer immediately. He walked toward a lower shelf, then toward a side drawer where there were small packages wrapped in waxed cloth. One of them had a faint smell, almost hidden by the wood and nearby spices. He took it carefully and opened it. Inside were dark fragments, roasted beans or perhaps hardened paste, with a bitter and powerful aroma.
"No way," he whispered.
Puck floated closer.
"What is it?"
Link looked up at Rem.
"What is this doing here?"
Rem looked at the dark fragments.
"It is not a common ingredient. Rem believes it arrived among exotic goods acquired by Roswaal-sama. The previous cook did not know how to use it properly. It has a very bitter taste."
Link let out a low, almost incredulous laugh.
"Cacao."
Subaru dropped the plate.
Ram caught it before it hit the floor.
"Barusu."
Subaru did not even react to the scolding. He was looking at the package as if they had just found a sacred treasure.
"Did you say cacao?"
"Yes."
Subaru took one step toward the kitchen.
Ram placed a hand on his chest and stopped him.
"No."
"Ram, this is history! Chocolate! Chocolate in Lugunica!"
Emilia tilted her head.
"Chocolate?"
Link opened the package a little more, smelling carefully.
"Where I'm from, it's made with cacao. Sweet, bitter, in drinks, in desserts, in coatings, in almost everything. If this is real cacao, I can do something with it."
Rem took a small fragment and smelled it.
"Its aroma is strong."
"Because it's incomplete. Bitter by itself doesn't work for everyone. It needs sugar, fat, milk or cream, sometimes vanilla. But if I work it right..."
He stared at the cacao.
And then the lightbulb went on.
"Mint."
Ram raised an eyebrow.
"Did the gardener just say a plant as if it were a religious revelation?"
Link turned toward Rem.
"Do you have mint? Or something similar. Fresh leaf, cold aroma, cleans the mouth."
Rem nodded.
"There is an herb used for infusions. Rem can bring it."
"Perfect."
Subaru pointed to himself.
"I don't understand, but I want to participate."
"You're going to eat at the end," Link said. "That is your participation."
"I accept that position with honor."
The plan grew dangerously.
Vanilla ice cream to begin with, because it was the cleanest, the most elegant, the one that would allow them to see whether the base worked. Strawberry ice cream for Puck, because the spirit had already fallen in love with the scent of the red fruits before even tasting them. And a third, smaller preparation, hidden away, mint with chocolate glaze for Ram and Rem. He did not announce that last one. Not completely. He said he would make "a test with herbs," and Subaru, who knew him far too well, opened his mouth to accuse him of preparing something special for Rem. Link gave him such an intense look that Subaru chose to live.
The preparation became a small war against the lack of technology.
Link heated part of the milk with cream and sugar until it dissolved without boiling too much. He opened the vanilla pods with a fine knife, scraped out the dark seeds with reverent care, and mixed them into the base. The aroma filled the kitchen like a promise. Emilia came closer, fascinated by how such a small ingredient could change all the milk. Rem wrote down approximate proportions, though Link repeated that they were not exact, that he was working "by eye, nose, and trauma." Ram said that was not a valid unit of measurement. Subaru answered that in Latin cooking, it probably was. Link threatened him with a spoon.
For the cold, Puck did his part.
He could not simply freeze the mixture as if it were a block. Link explained it several times, with Subaru adding comments about "ice crystals" and "creamy texture" as if he were an expert just because he had seen cooking shows in his world. They needed to cool it while moving it, scrape the edges, incorporate air, and prevent it from becoming hard as stone. Puck, delighted by the absurd complexity of using ice magic for dessert, created a frozen layer around a large container. Link stirred the mixture with a wooden paddle, Rem held the bowl steady, Subaru dried plates while watching in despair from the entrance, Emilia observed with shining eyes, and Ram controlled that no one spilled anything.
"Colder," Link said.
Puck lifted his little paws.
"If I make it colder, it becomes stone."
"Then even cold, not brutal cold."
"How demanding."
"I'm trying to make ice cream, not build a weapon."
Beatrice appeared at the kitchen door just as the smell of vanilla reached the hallway.
She did not open the door in surprise. She made no dramatic entrance. She simply appeared, as if the library had decided to spit her out wherever Puck was. Her gaze moved first to Puck, then to the frozen container, then to Link, then to Subaru with a plate in his hand, and finally to Emilia.
"What are you doing, I suppose?"
Puck waved a paw.
"Betty, you arrived just in time. Link is making frozen sweet cream."
Beatrice narrowed her eyes.
"That sounds like a waste of time."
"It has vanilla."
Beatrice looked at the container.
"Betty will taste it to confirm whether it is still a waste of time."
Subaru whispered:
"And so the first dragon falls."
Beatrice looked at him.
"Barusu may be left without tasting."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said too much, I suppose."
The first batch of vanilla turned out better than Link expected.
Not perfect. Not like an ice cream shop from his world. But creamy, cold, smooth, with just the right sweetness and the perfume of exotic vanilla filling the mouth. Emilia tried a small spoonful and opened her eyes with clean surprise. Subaru almost cried. Ram said "acceptable" with a pause that lasted too long before the word. Rem said the texture was unusual and pleasant, which to Link was worth more than a medal. Puck tried a portion and, though he said it was good, his gaze kept going toward the strawberries as if he had already chosen his destiny.
Beatrice, meanwhile, tried one spoonful.
Then another.
Then a third.
"It is not bad, I suppose," she said.
"That means she liked it," Subaru whispered.
Beatrice sat with the small sample container closer to her.
"Betty is evaluating."
"She's evaluating a lot," Link said.
"Silence. Evaluation requires repetition."
The second batch was strawberry.
The red fruits were mashed with sugar until they released their juice. Link left a few small pieces because he thought the texture was better that way. He mixed the fruit with the dairy base, adjusted the acidity with a few drops of a mild citrus, and asked Puck for more careful cold. The spirit worked with excessive enthusiasm, so much that at one point he froze the spoon and Subaru had to hold it with a cloth while Link looked at him as if everything were his fault.
The smell of strawberry filled the kitchen with something cheerful.
Puck was the first to taste the finished batch.
He went still.
Then his eyes shone.
"Lia," he said with absolute seriousness. "I need to keep this."
Emilia laughed.
"Puck, it's for everyone."
"I can share emotionally, but physically I would prefer not to."
Subaru hugged his portion as if it were treasure.
"I'm not judging. I understand."
Ram served small portions for those present. Puck received one. Then another. Then, while everyone was distracted by Beatrice demanding "a comparative evaluation" between vanilla and strawberry, Puck began reducing the contents of the strawberry container with terrifying efficiency for such a small being. When Link noticed, less than half remained.
"Puck."
The spirit had pink cream in his whiskers.
"Yes?"
"That was for everyone."
"Everyone already tried it."
"One spoonful."
"One spoonful counts as trying."
Emilia tried to look stern.
"Puck..."
"Lia, listen. I am a spirit. My materialized time is limited. I must make the most of important experiences."
Subaru nodded solemnly.
"Solid legal argument."
Ram looked at him.
"Barusu is not a lawyer."
"But I am a defender of the right to dessert."
"Then you are condemned."
Puck finished the strawberry.
Not all at once or rudely. He did it with such sincere happiness that Emilia ended up sighing instead of truly scolding him. Link resigned himself. He had seen children defend a piece of cake with less intensity than Puck defended that ice cream.
Meanwhile, Beatrice had appropriated the vanilla.
Not officially. Not with words. But every time someone tried to approach the container, she moved it a few centimeters toward her side, pretending she was only "arranging the space." Subaru tried to take a second portion. Beatrice struck his hand with a spoon.
"Betty has not finished evaluating yet."
"That's no longer evaluation, that's territorial conquest!"
"Barusu makes serious accusations without proof, I suppose."
"The proof is in your spoon!"
Beatrice ate another spoonful.
"I see no proof."
Link looked at Puck devouring the last of the strawberry and Beatrice protecting the vanilla like a small dragon guarding dairy gold.
"I just created monsters."
"Late realization," Ram said.
But the important part remained.
The third preparation had stayed separate. Link had infused the mint in warm milk, careful not to make it bitter. The aroma was fresh, clean, green, a cold sensation even before touching the ice. He mixed it with cream and sugar, chilled it with Puck's more delicate help—who agreed to cooperate after receiving the promise that there was no more hidden strawberry—and let it settle until it reached a smooth texture. It was not intensely green like some artificial ice creams from his world. It was pale, almost white with a soft tint, more natural and elegant.
The chocolate glaze was the real challenge.
The cacao was bitter, dry, not very refined. Link ground it as best he could, mixed it with hot cream, sugar, a little dairy fat, and a pinch of vanilla. It did not become perfect modern chocolate, glossy and silky, but it did become a thick, dark, intense sauce with a deep aroma. When he tasted it, the bitterness was still there, but now supported by sweetness. An adult, strong coating capable of contrasting with the mint.
Rem observed him.
"That is the bitter ingredient."
"Yes. But it works with mint. Or it should."
"Who will it be served to?"
Link went still.
Ram, from the other side, raised an eyebrow.
"The gardener has become suspiciously silent."
Subaru opened his mouth.
Link pointed the chocolate spoon at him.
"Not one word."
Subaru smiled.
"I haven't said anything."
"Your soul screamed."
"My soul is excited."
Link took two small plates.
They were not large portions. He did not want to exaggerate. He served the mint ice cream carefully, shaping it as best he could with cold spoons. Then he added the chocolate glaze on top in a dark thread, letting it fall over the pale surface and slide down one side. The contrast looked pretty. Much prettier than he expected. Fresh and dark, simple and elegant.
He took both plates.
One for Rem.
One for Ram.
From behind, Subaru whispered:
"The man is entering suicidal territory."
Emilia gave him a small elbow jab so he would not ruin the moment.
Link approached Ram first, because if he went straight to Rem, Subaru would never let him live. He offered her the plate with almost formal seriousness.
"For you. Mint with chocolate. It's a test, but I thought you might like it."
Ram looked at the plate.
Then at Link.
"Is the gardener trying to bribe Ram?"
"No. If I wanted to bribe you, I would have looked for something you couldn't use against me later."
"That shows some intelligence."
"Thanks... I think."
Ram took the plate. She tried a small spoonful. Her face barely changed, but her eyes lowered again toward the ice cream. She took a little more, this time with chocolate.
"Acceptable."
Subaru clenched his fists.
"Another acceptable. We're building legend."
Ram ignored him and kept eating. For her, that said plenty.
Link turned toward Rem.
The second plate felt much heavier than the first, which was absurd because he could carry stones effortlessly. But walking two steps toward Rem with a dessert made especially for her seemed harder than moving an old planter under supervision. Rem watched him approach with that calm of hers, though her eyes lowered to the plate and then returned to him.
"For you too," Link said. "It's mint. With chocolate. I thought that... well, because of today. You helped me in the village. And with the gloves. And with the kitchen. And with almost everything since I arrived, actually. It's not a big deal. I just wanted you to try something different."
Subaru covered his mouth with both hands.
Ram observed with the dry interest of someone watching a man walk willingly toward his own emotional execution.
Rem received the plate with both hands.
"Thank you, Link."
There it was again. His name. Said naturally.
Link almost lost the ability to breathe, but managed to nod.
"You're welcome."
Rem tried a spoonful.
The silence felt eternal to him.
Rem's expression did not change dramatically. She did not open her eyes like Subaru, smile like Emilia, appropriate the container like Beatrice, or defend her portion like Puck. She only tasted, let the flavor do its work, and looked at the plate with calm attention.
"It is cold," she said.
Subaru nearly died trying not to laugh, but Link did not tease her. There was something in how Rem said it. It was not a silly obvious statement. It was an honest observation, almost surprised.
"Yes."
"The mint feels clean. The chocolate is bitter, but not unpleasant. It makes the sweetness less heavy."
Link felt his chest loosen.
"That's what I wanted."
Rem took another spoonful.
"Rem thinks it is very good."
Link went still.
Behind him, Subaru raised both arms in silence as if his team had just won a final.
Emilia smiled.
Puck, already drowsy and with strawberry whiskers, floated to Emilia's shoulder and murmured:
"That was nice."
Beatrice, with her vanilla container reduced to a suspiciously small amount, scoffed.
"It is only frozen cream, I suppose."
"Betty," Puck said, "you have vanilla on your cheek."
Beatrice immediately wiped it off, red with indignation.
"Puckie, do not say such things in front of Barusu."
"Too late," Subaru whispered.
Beatrice looked at him.
Subaru lowered his head.
"I saw nothing."
"You had better not."
The kitchen was left full of the remains of an impossible night: frozen bowls, spoons, mashed fruit, cream spilled in small drops, a partially used package of cacao, opened vanilla pods, damp mint leaves, and empty plates. Ram finished her portion without saying anything else, but left not a trace. Rem ate hers slowly, as if she wanted to understand every part of the flavor. Emilia asked for a second spoonful of mint to try it too, and Link served it without issue. Subaru demanded "food justice" and received a small portion because Rem said he still needed to sleep well in order to work the next day. Subaru tried to argue that ice cream helped dreams. Ram replied that his work needed fewer dreams and more competence.
Puck began to fade shortly afterward.
Not in an alarming way, but with that softness of light indicating his time was running out. Emilia extended her hand and he settled against her palm, satisfied like a cat that had conquered a kingdom.
"It was worth it," Puck said, yawning. "Strawberry. So much strawberry. Link, tomorrow we could make more."
"I have work tomorrow."
"Strawberry is important work too."
"Tell Ram that."
Ram looked at the spirit.
"Ram will not approve of a spirit using the gardener to produce desserts during working hours."
Puck sighed.
"The laws of this mansion are harsh."
"The laws of this mansion prevent Barusu and Link from turning the kitchen into ruins," Rem said.
Link raised one hand.
"I didn't break anything important today."
Rem looked at the utensils.
"You broke a small spoon."
"It was weak."
"The spoon fulfilled its function until you squeezed it."
"It died in service."
Ram closed her eyes.
"The gardener continues holding funerals for objects."
Subaru patted Link on the shoulder.
"First plants, then spoons. Your heart is too big."
"So is your mouth, and nobody honors it."
Emilia laughed softly, and that laugh made the kitchen feel warmer despite the ice. For a moment, everyone was there in a way that seemed impossible: a half-elf royal candidate smiling with cream on her spoon, a spirit satisfied after devouring strawberry ice cream, a tiny librarian protecting vanilla, twin maids eating mint with chocolate, a ridiculous Japanese boy claiming dessert rights, and a half-ghoul, half-oni Latino, improvised gardener, washing bowls carefully so he would not break them.
Link thought that if someone had described that scene to him a week ago, he would have called emergency services.
Now he only wanted it to last a little longer.
Rem approached when he began washing the containers. Without saying anything, she took a cloth and began drying beside him. Link tensed by reflex, then breathed and kept working.
"Did you really like it?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Rem answered. "Rem would not say it was very good if she did not believe it."
"I know. That's why I asked."
Rem dried a bowl with perfect movements.
"The flavor of mint with chocolate was unexpected. Rem had never tried anything like it."
"Where I'm from, there are a lot of strange combinations. Some work. Others seem like crimes."
"And this one?"
Link smiled.
"This one works."
Rem looked at him for an instant.
"Yes. It works."
The phrase was about the dessert.
Probably.
From the other side of the kitchen, Subaru started to open his mouth. Ram stopped him with a look before he could ruin the moment.
The cleaning ended late. Beatrice left with dignity, though Puck, before fully disappearing into his crystal, told Emilia that Betty had finished all the vanilla ice cream. Beatrice denied the accusation even with the empty container in her hands. Subaru argued that this should be recorded as "the incident of the vanished vanilla." Beatrice threatened to turn him into a peel difficult to remove. Subaru decided the case was closed due to lack of evidence and excess danger.
When everyone began to leave, the mansion regained its nighttime silence.
Emilia carried Puck back, saying goodbye with a grateful smile. Beatrice returned to the library pretending the night had not been worth it. Ram went to report that the kitchen was still standing, using those exact words because, according to her, with Link and Subaru involved, that counted as a positive result. Rem stayed a few more minutes to check that everything was clean.
Subaru walked beside Link through the hallway leading to their separate rooms, hands behind his head and a far too satisfied smile on his face.
"Well, chef gardener. Ice cream in Lugunica. Not bad for a guy who, a few days ago, got wrapped up like sushi by his own body."
"You had to mention it."
"Always."
"One day I'm going to make a dessert and not give you any."
Subaru paled.
"Don't joke with weapons of emotional destruction."
Link let out a low laugh.
Subaru stopped in front of his room. He rubbed his left hand, right where the village puppy had bitten him. Link noticed from the corner of his eye.
"Does it hurt?"
"This? Nah. It just itches a little. Battle mark from the fierce beast."
"It was a puppy."
"A puppy with murderous ambitions."
Link frowned slightly. For a second, the memory of that strange smell returned. Sour, damp, hidden beneath fur. But Subaru moved his hand as if it did not matter and smiled so naturally that the worry diluted. They had had a good night. A sweet night. Link did not want to stain it with shapeless suspicions.
"Wash it well before sleeping," he said.
Subaru looked at him with a malicious smile.
"Worried about me?"
"Worried that if you die of infection, I'll be left without my reference idiot."
"That's affection in your language."
"It's a preventive threat."
Subaru opened his room door.
"Good night, Link."
Link stood still for an instant. He was no longer "secondary guest," or "the weird gardener," or "sushi." Well, Subaru would probably keep saying sushi until death separated them. But there was something different about hearing his name so many times that day. From Subaru, it was familiar. From Rem, it was dangerous. From Ram, it was evaluation. From Emilia, it was kindness. Little by little, the name was beginning to belong to that place, even if it was borrowed.
"Good night, Subaru."
Subaru entered his room.
Link continued toward his own, closer to the garden wing. Before entering, he looked out through a hallway window. Night covered the Roswaal mansion with impeccable calm. The garden was dark, barely outlined by the moon. Nothing moved outside. Nothing seemed to be stalking. Everything was too still, too clean, too beautiful.
He thought of the strawberry disappearing because of Puck. Of Beatrice pretending indifference with vanilla on her cheek. Of Ram saying "acceptable." Of Rem saying mint with chocolate was very good. Of Subaru rubbing the bite as if it were nothing.
Link rested a hand on the window frame.
For the first time in days, he was sleepy without feeling hunted.
He entered his room, closed the door, and let the silence receive him. There was no shared sofa, no Subaru snoring or muttering nonsense nearby. Only a clean bed, folded clothes, the faint smell of wood and cloth, and a tranquility that still seemed too fragile to fully trust.
But that night, at least, the mansion had tasted of vanilla, strawberry, mint, and chocolate.
And that was enough for Link to lie down with a tired smile, unaware that that sweetness was only the final breath before the fourth day finished collecting its price.