Interlude: Remias's Lunchbox (Part Two)

"That lunchbox, waaait! You haven't eaten it?! You haven't, have you?!"

"Remie! What's wrong, in such a panic?"

Remias hurried over and took the hand of Remie, who had both hands on the ground.

"'What's wrong,' indeed! Oh, thank goodness I made it in time...!"

Ignoring our blank looks, Remie glared at Remias with bloodshot eyes.

"Brother, trying to feed Lord Leonhardt an object like that...! Georg or Cosette would be one thing, but if the delicate prince got a stomachache, what would you do!"

"An object like that...?"

"'Georg or Cosette would be one thing,' she says."

"Not to brag, but I do have confidence in the strength of my stomach."

"That's not the point."

At Remie, shouting it out, we tilted our heads. Meanwhile, Remias gazed at her with the tender look of a Madonna, rubbing the back of his heaving-shouldered sister.

"Remie, shout that loudly and you'll hurt your throat. Here, drink this juice and calm down."

"Oh, thank you... gwah?!"

Remie gulped down the juice Remias offered, then clapped both hands over her mouth and writhed. Eyes round at the unexpected sight, we froze in shock. Taking a very long time, Remie swallowed the rest of the juice in her mouth, then glared at Remias again, teary-eyed.

"Cough! What are you making me drink! No, rather, what did you make me drink?!"

That reaction of Remie's... could it be a truly foul juice? Looking fearfully at Remias, I saw him take a notebook from his breast pocket and, with a serious face, read out the recipe he'd apparently written down.

"Let's see, this is... the 'shiso' Cosette gave me a while back, and honey, and orange, and..."

Something like shiso juice, maybe? Sounds tasty, but perhaps it was unfamiliar and not to her taste. But even as I mused on the juice's flavor, Remias's words went on.

"Salt and sugar, and..."

Mm-hm, a little salt makes the sugar's sweetness stand out. But he's put honey in too, so it must be quite sweet.

"Garlic and ginger and raw egg."

...Sounds healthy. Surely good for stamina.

"Bouillon, and... for a secret touch, chili peppers."

...Hm?

"And, this was a special recipe I meant to keep secret, but..."

Making as if to lower his voice, Remias puffed out his chest proudly and announced with a full smile.

"A rare drink I sourced through my own private channels... I put in 'coffee'!"

Ta-daaa!!!

Ah, this is the bad kind. Fruit and coffee. This is definitely the bad kind. Yes. Citrus and coffee especially are a hopeless match. The stuff of lifelong enemies who'll never make peace. Or rather, before any of that, there's bouillon and chili in it. It's already fallen right out of the "juice" category.

As Remie stared at the proudly chest-puffed Remias, a vein stood out on her forehead.

Still, she drank it all down. As a young lady, once you've taken it into your mouth, no matter how foul, you mustn't spit it out. Is that it? W-well, lady or not, spitting it out is bad, but... could I manage it, I wonder. L-look, sometimes you get startled and it just comes out... right?

"Don't make me drink dreadful things! I saw a field of flowers in my mind!"

"A field of flowers... hehe, Remie is still a child."

"Not that kind of dreamy flower field!"

Irritated, perhaps, at Remias smiling as if to say honestly now, Remie stamped her feet.

"Aaah! Never mind the juice! Anyway, we cannot let the crown prince eat that lunchbox!"

"Huh? Why? Ah, Remie wants to eat it too. Well, it can't be helped."

"How do you get to that?!"

"There's plenty, so it's fine. Here, go on."

Saying so, Remias caught the attendant off guard and snatched back the basket. And inside the basket he opened were what seemed to be sandwiches, dyed in a riot of gaudy colors.

Red, blue, yellow. Yes, it's pretty, I'll grant that. But why is the bread blue? Hey, what's this shocking-pink filling made of? And what's this sharp, nose-stinging smell? By now my sight, my smell, yes, my very instincts were refusing with all their might to eat this object.

"Oh! I'm starving, I'm at my limit. Oh, colorful and pretty!"

"G-Georg, wait a second..."

"Come back to your senses, Georg! Colorful is not an adjective you use for a sandwich!"

...The original can't-read-the-room man, Georg, ignored the voices trying to stop him and reached into the basket Remias had flung open...!

"Guooh?!"

"Georg...!"

"Spit it out! Spit it out!"

"We've lost a fine man..."

"Your Highness, he's not dead yet!"

The moment he put the gaudy thing in his mouth, Georg writhed in agony. His already ruddy face went past ruddy and busily turned red, then blue.

"Georg!!"

"Gulp! Ugh, it stuck in my throat! Yeah, it's kind of chewy and sour, but it's good!"

"Huh...?"

A surprise, and no mistake. Following the recommendation of Georg, who'd come back alive from the colorful sandwich, we fearfully tried a bite, and Remias's handmade sandwich, if that's what it was, turned out miraculously delicious. Though the slippery feel the moment I picked it up made my touch, on top of sight and smell, try to refuse it too.

By the way, when out of curiosity I asked what was in it, my already-vanished appetite shot past zero into the negative. Remie, tasting it, went wide-eyed too.

"Deli... cious...?"

"It's a miracle."

"Remias really is amazing!"

Georg all but finished the sandwiches off, and Remias looked happy, but the three of us, the prince, Remie, and I, were left with an unsettled, unconvinced feeling.

After that, there were several more chances for Remias to treat us to his cooking. But nine times out of ten the taste was dire enough to leave you wandering the border of life and death, so the colorful sandwich, it seemed, was a very rare success.

This picnic became, in later days, a well-worn tale, the story from their young days of the one flaw, you might say the only flaw, ever found in the seemingly perfect Remias.