Dantalian no Shoka Vol 1 Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Wors.h.i.+p of Gourmet Food 
Episode 01: Meditations de Gastronomie Part 1

On a rough mountain road far outside the gates of the capital, there was a stopped car.

It was an old car once used by the army, a common type of automobile that was sold cheaply to the citizens during the post-war years.

There was no roof to its dimmed silver body, so the two seats were exposed directly to the elements. A rolled up blanket and some paperbacks were scattered on the leather-coated seats.

The driver of the car was a young man wearing a leather frock coat.

His age could not be determined exactly, but presumably, he was about twenty years old. Still, the face under the hat had yet to lose all its boyish features.

At the moment, he was crouching on the side of the car, tampering with the rear wheel bearing.

Although his gentle features implied a good upbringing, his hands were oddly accustomed to the use of tools and his movements resembled that of a soldier who had received special training.

"...I am bored," a girl that was sitting on the load platform addressed him.

Her age was no more than about 12 or 13 years. Her white skin seemed almost transparent and was covered by a jet black dress.

She had hip-length ebony hair and eyes that were the deep black colour of the night.

The black dress was fringed by countless laces and frills. These outlines of her were enfolded by metallic protectors on the back of her hands and a rustic ta.s.set. Her looks reminded one of the ceremonial robes of medieval knights—an odd mixture that could be called neither dress nor armour. And finally, where normally there might have been a ribbon, she was wearing an old, metallic chest.

A big lock, tied to her with silver chains.

"I am hungry. Just how long do you plan on making me wait? First you get lost, and now you've even killed the car. Are you a good-for-nothing, Huey?"

Putting the book she was reading on her lap, she criticized the driver.

The young man named Huey put on an ironic, lopsided smile in response to the snappy tongue that didn't match her lovely appearance at all.

"Oh, I thought we got lost because you completely failed at reading the map...?"

"Ugh..." she groaned once and grew silent. She chewed on her lips, pouting, and turned away as her cheeks turned red.

The young man merely shrugged his shoulders while changing his gloves that had become dirty with oil.

"But it's certainly a bothersome situation we're in. There aren't enough parts to repair the car. We'll have to go borrow some proper tools and materials somewhere."

"...you noticed this now?" she sighed, dumbfounded.

Their car was currently stopped on a narrow land way that had only recently been hardened.

Wherever one turned around, there was just plain wasteland with patches of weeds here and there. A blacksmith or harness shop? There was not even a single building to be seen for far and wide!

"Where are you looking that you think you would get something of the likes in this region? You are about the only foolish driver in the whole world who would lose his way in a desolate place like this during this cold season."

"Well, I acknowledge your point about the season."

He looked up at the branches of the withered trees and then shook his head exaggeratedly.

"But Dalian... it seems we're not the only ones who took this route."

After he had spoken, he squinted his eyes to look in the distance.

A carriage was drawing closer to them while raising a cloud of white dust behind it.

It was a big two-horse cart—more exactly, a high-cla.s.s carriage equipped with suspension, usually only seen at the estates of n.o.bles. A middle-aged man wearing an expensive-looking coat was holding the reins, whereas in the cart itself they could see a young woman.

The young driver, Huey, put his tools on the ground and stood up.

Black dressed Dalian jumped down from the loading platform and quickly took position behind Huey.

Her anxiety reminded one of a little animal unaccustomed to humans. She carefully looked up at the arriving carriage, hiding part of her head behind the book she was hugging.

The young woman spoke to the chauffeur, upon which he skillfully drew the reins.

The carriage slowed down and stopped.

The woman opened the door of the cart and poked out her head with a soft smile.

"Please forgive my silly question, but do you need help?" the woman asked earnestly. She was tall and clad in a deep-green cloak.

She didn't look like a mere servant;　more like governess of a n.o.ble's child or the maid of a landlady.

Huey smiled gently.

"It would seem so. We had just lost our way when suddenly the car stopped..."

"You have lost... your way?" she asked back, bewildered.

Their car was stopped almost in the middle of wasteland, with a clear view of the surroundings. Moreover, there wasn't any fog nor was the road complicated or branched. One would have to make a big mistake to get lost.

"Uhm, well... it's a bit embarra.s.sing but, you see, a lot happened underway...," the young man sighed with a wry smile, while the black dressed girl behind him puffed up her face. "To tell the truth, we were looking for the mansion of Graham Atkinson... do you happen to know him?"

"The mansion of Mr. Graham...?" the woman asked surprised.

She exchanged glances with the chauffeur and then nervously straightened herself.

"Could it be that you are guests of tonight's dinner party...?"

"Yes. We were invited by Mr. Graham. My name is Hugh Anthony Disward. Just call me Huey. My companion goes by the name Dalian."

"...Sir Disward? Are you...," she wrinkled her brow for some reason, taken aback.

Then she came to her senses again and bowed deeply, "Please forgive my rudeness!"

"I'm called Lesley and I am a servant at Mr. Graham's mansion. You can ride with this carriage to the mansion if you will. Naturally, we will also arrange workers for the repair of your car."

"Ah, that would be a big help. But...," Huey said and looked back.

The shoulders of the girl behind him were quivering faintly.

She was behaving like a shy young child, wary of unknown adults.

Lesley wrinkled her brow, but then seemed to be struck with an idea.

"Miss Dalian... uhm, to tell you the truth, there are some snacks in the carriage..."

Dalian twitched at the word "snacks".

She then peeked out behind Huey and looked up to Lesley.

"Snacks... of what sort?" she eventually asked with a voice one could barely hear.

Lesley smiled, relieved.

"Hm, let's see. Nothing too exceptional, but there is fried bread and..."

She started to count with her fingers, but Dalian answered right away, "We are coming...," not letting Lesley finish, while tugging at Huey's sleeves.

"My, my," Huey let out a faint sigh.

 

The loading platform of the carriage was piled with ingredients, such as vegetables and fruits, fish and meat, as well as manufactured foods like cheese. It was clear at a glance that all of it was fresh and of high quality.

"Are you on your way back from shopping? These would be the ingredients for tonight's dinner party, I suppose?" Huey said, a little surprised, after glancing into the loading platform from his seat.

"No," Lesley shook her head. "The pre-cooking for the dinner party is already done. What you are seeing there are the ingredients for the lord's dinner."

"All this, for Mr. Graham alone? I certainly heard that he didn't have a family..."

"Yes, all of it will be presented to the lord. The storage of goods is strictly prohibited. The freshness and quality of the ingredients is what makes the quality of the final dish. Apparently, my lord did once dismiss a past chef for using slightly injured ingredients earlier on that day."

"Aah..." Huey smiled, a little taken aback. "Mr. Graham seems to be a gourmet just like I heard in the rumours. Do you work in the kitchen of his mansion?"

"Yes... that's about right. I work as something like a kitchen maid." Lesley answered with an ambiguous smile.

Kitchen maids were employees working under the chef—in other words, trainee cooks. The fact that Lesley had been entrusted with the important task of purchasing ingredients meant that she was a particularly capable kitchen maid.

"I see. Quite impressive, considering that Mr. Graham's cuisine is on everyone's lips, even in the capital. I often see his original cooking style introduced in newspapers and it seems like the representatives of the House of Lords and several wealthy people on the mainland are persistently trying to entice his chef away."

"I've heard such rumours as well," she shook her head with a serious expression. "But as long the lord is alive, it is absolutely unthinkable that the chef would ever accept such an offer. The chef's sole aim in life is letting the lord savour the most delicious cuisine."

"...the treatment at Graham's must be incredibly good, I suspect?" Huey asked amusedly.

Lesley thought about it for a moment and replied, "Mr. Graham treats the kitchen staff very well of course, but much more than that, the thing is that the kitchen at his mansion is the perfect environment for cooks. They may use the best and the rarest ingredients at their own discretion, and even all the ordinary ingredients are of best quality and freshness. Moreover, the crops on his land are superior in terms of quality and there's even a forest abundant in fauna."

"Forest?"

"Yes. The nearby forest is a good hunting ground. There are pheasants, rabbits or even wild boars..."

"Aah... that's what you've meant, I see," Huey muttered while looking at the thick forest that expanded before the carriage. "Is that perhaps also the reason why Mr. Graham lives on the countryside rather than the capital...?"

"Of course. After all, Mr. Graham's motto is 'For the best cooking one must use the best ingredients'."

"...I see," Huey muttered.

In the meanwhile, the black-dressed girl next to him had been absorbed in stuffing her cheeks with fried bread wrapped in oil paper. From time to time, she licked her sugar smeared fingers, putting on a rapt smile every time she did so.

"You seem to be enjoying your bread, aren't you, Dalian?"

"...Correct," she answered plainly and bit again into her bread. The cautious att.i.tude she had shown towards Lesley in the beginning had completely vanished into thin air.

While watching her warmly, Lesley said, "I am very pleased if it suits your taste." She smiled gently. "As soon as we arrive at the mansion, I can serve you some finer confectionery, but unfortunately this is all I have with me at the moment. These are the remains of the goods we presented to an orphanage."

"Orphanage?" Huey asked dubiously.

"Yes... I always send them the remaining breakfast breads when I go purchasing goods. It's a pleasure to watch the children happily eat even such food."

"So, the person that baked this was...?"

"I did. You see, I lost my parents early on and had the experience of being constantly hungry..."

The expression that flashed over Lesley's face was a bit mysterious. One could not tell whether she was happy or sorrowful.

Part 2

The gourmet's mansion was on a hill with a view over the lush forest.

Since it had been the residence of the feudal lord long ago, the building was surprisingly large. The dining hall of the feast was lined with tables that were adorned with beautiful candlesticks and sterling cutlery.

Everywhere one looked, one could see wealthy people, landlords and other people conversing with each other— without exception about tonight's dinner.

"Why are there so many people? It's unbearable," Dalian complained quietly while hiding herself in the shadow of a post.

While adjusting his brand-new necktie, Huey gave a laid-back answer, "Mr. Graham has become so wealthy because he built up a fortune in his young years by doing forward trading with corn. Even now when he has retired, he arranges a dinner party with lots of guests every month. And because of the very special cooking that is served at those, you can apparently pride yourself on getting invited."

"...what a wretched bunch," she cursed with quite a grumpy expression, which probably originated from her aversion of being in crowds.

Another reason for her bad mood was the fact that she was the target of countless curious gazes; her exotic black dress stood out even among all the other guests, dressed up as they were.

Despite her dismissive att.i.tude, there were still quite a lot who approached her out of curiosity.

"Good evening, young lady. Is this your first visit?"

Addressed by a young n.o.ble-looking man, she tensed and tried ignoring him.

The man, however, did not even mind and continued, "I've attended several times since last year. The cooking here is even better than the rumours say! It stands to reason that Mr. Graham's company is said to have flourished because of his dinner parties. I'm sure you'll love it. The recipes he has worked out are of course splendid, but so too are the skills of the cooks that carry them out."

"...Cooks?" Huey asked subduedly.

The man who was being ignored by Dalian turned relievedly towards Huey.

"Yes, exactly. Did you know? Apparently, the chef is able to cook animals alive without letting them feel any pain. I heard that birds and predators kept sleeping comfortably even when their head rolled, or that fish continued to swim in the tank even when they were reduced to head and bones—"

"...why would he do such obscure things?" Huey asked, raising an eyebrow.

The n.o.ble-looking man extended his arms exaggeratedly and shook his head.

"That's again a story beyond belief: he seems to be seeking for the perfect taste by doing so. Adrenalin... was it, I think. Animals emit adrenalin when they die in pain, which causes the meat to get chewy and the flavour to weaken. Of course, that's a difference so subtle we common people cannot perceive it, though."

"You mean... he is doing it just to prevent that effect...?"

"Exactly. It's splendid how much care he puts into his dishes, don't you agree? I heard he polished his knife technique and even learned the oriental 'moxibustion' and the usage of medicines, just to prevent the animals from suffering. Mind you, he has been able to work for several years for Mr. Graham."

"...quite hard to believe," Huey voiced his thoughts dryly.

The man nodded several times.

"Surely! But I think you'll believe it as soon as you've tasted the cooking."

After boasting about the cooking as if he had made it, the man parted with them in high spirits.

When he went out of their view, Dalian relaxed again.

"...what do you think about it, Dalian?"

So far he had preserved a sociable smile, but now Huey's mien turned serious at once.

"It's absurd. No common man could accomplish something like that," Dalian declared coldly.

Huey maintained a serious face.

"But what if it's the truth?"

The black-dressed girl gazed at the flame dancing on a candlestick and muttered in an even voice, "That would mean... the power of a non-human being is involved."

"I see," Huey shrugged casually.

He took a pocket-watch out of his coat and bracing himself up, said briefly:

"It's time. Let's go."

 

Graham Atkinson's study was to be found at a silent place, somewhat apart from the dinner party.

Outside the window one could see the huge forest and the wheat fields on the back side of the mansion. Both sides of the room were lined with bookshelves that reached to the ceiling and were packed with rare books.

There were some comfortable-looking seats in the centre, one of which was already occupied by a man.

He was probably older than fifty.

While he was a little short, his body was well-built— far from the chubbiness one would expect from a rumoured gourmet. His appearance resembled much more a soldier in employment, rather than a retired aristocrat.

"—I'm impressed."

The first action Huey took after being led to this library was not greeting Mr. Graham, but sighing in admiration at the bookshelves alongside the walls. Even Dalian could not help rounding her eyes.

"'De re coquinaria' by the gourmand Acipius of the old Rome. 'Le Viandier' by Charles VI's highly valued chef Taillevent. 'The Physiology of Taste' by Brillat-Savarin—the greatest gourmet of modern history. And the 'Qí mín yào shù' of the Ancient China. There are not only recipes, but also books about natural history and physics... you could probably count the number of other gourmet libraries of this level on one hand."

"Heh...," the owner of the study gazed at Huey with searching eyes and gave a laugh. "I see. As expected from the grandchild of Viscount Wesley Disward. You seem to have an eye for books."

"...Are you acquainted with my grandfather?" Huey gave the gourmet a surprised glance.

Graham nodded deeply with a hard to judge expression. He signalled Huey and Dalian to take a seat and ordered the butler to prepare some tea for them.

"Anyone who is a little familiar with what happens behind the scenes in this country knows about that bibliomaniac! And also about the library he owns, of course."

"What library?" Huey asked back with a straight face.

"Playing dumb won't help you, Sir Disward. The best proof is the girl you've taken with you, 'the Black Biblioprincess'. You have inherited it from the Viscount, haven't you? The Bibliotheca Mystica de Dantalian!"

"...I wonder what you mean?" Huey smiled in a ironic manner and inclined his head.

Dalian was still wordlessly tugging at his sleeves with downcast eyes. Her impa.s.sive countenance seemed like a beautiful porcelain doll.

"Heh," Graham sneered amusedly. "Books are splendid. You have to use your head to read them, and reading makes you hungry. Did you know that the weight of a human brain makes about 2% of the whole body, but uses up 18% of the daily required calories? Now, the hungrier you are, the more delicious dishes you can eat."

"You read books... for the sake of eating?" Huey asked in a jesting tone.

But his dialogue partner nodded without hesitation and added, "Surely... and the same applies to my muscles. If you increase your basal metabolism by training your muscles, the amount of needed food will grow, too. Gourmet food is the greatest pleasure under the sun. Thus, I spare neither trouble nor expense."

"Hah..."

With an awkward expression, Huey looked around in the study. There weren't just lots of books, but also many tools to exercise.

And instead of a desk, there was a personal dining table.

The wine cup and plates were all made of expensive porcelain and wouldn't have been out of place in an art gallery. In a sense, this study was a splendid, extravagant dining room.

"Won't you take part in the dinner party?" Huey asked after a short pause.

Although the dinner party should have begun by now, Graham didn't seem to intend to go.

"Don't make me laugh," the gourmet ranted. "Do you ask me to dine together with a bunch that won't stop talking about silly rumours, their business and other nonsense during that holy time? Me? Such a dinner party is of no worth! I only organize those because I have no other choice for business. You may call it fawning on incompetent trustees."

"That is... unexpected," Huey muttered to himself.

"Why would you think so?"

"No, it's just that everyone was praising your dinner parties so highly, so I was sure you made every effort..."

"Why, I do make every effort! Doesn't that go without saying? Or did you think I would let my cooks slack off just because my guests are common people?" the gourmet asked deprecatingly. Huey silently shook his head.

Graham laughed deeply. "Well, but to tell the truth... while they are not slacking off, they don't give their best either. It's necessary to reduce the grade of perfection, so even those commoners can comprehend the taste. Do you know why?"

"No... why is that?"

"In short, for savouring the best cooking, the body of the one eating has to be at least of the same quality. Everyone knows that the meat of a well-built and healthy animal tastes good. But what about the person eating it? Do you think someone who is fat, or whose inner organs are corroded by tobacco and wine, could ever appreciate the best cooking?" Graham sighed as if to ridicule the guests gathered at the dinner party. "I have been working on myself for a long time, caring about my health, getting myself into shape, and keeping the balance of never eating too much, but neither getting too hungry. I did all this in order to savour the best cooking. I'm not like those would-be gourmets!"

While saying so, he paraded his muscles proudly.

"I think I can understand what you mean," said Huey calmly, continuing with a strained smile, "We don't seem to have the capabilities to appreciate the cooking you're talking of, either. I am a person that neglects to live healthily and I'm quite dense to tastes... Therefore, may we get down to business?"

"...Business, huh?"

"Yes. Why did you not only invite us to your dinner party, but also to had us come to your study, Mr. Graham Atkinson, even though we have no connection to your business whatsoever?" Huey gave him a cold glance.

Graham nodded pleasedly, "Right... I am not interested in the bunch that's here only to taste my cuisine. But you are different, Sir Disward. And so are you, Black Biblioprincess... please, grant my wis.h.!.+"

"Your wish?" Huey asked suspiciously.

Graham bowed his head slowly.

"I'm talking about the Phantom Book."

A dull light flashed in his eyes. Dalian tightened her grip on Huey's sleeves, visibly tensed.

"I would merely like you to lend me just one phantom book—one among the thousands you own. The phantom book, which is said to contain forbidden cookery by the chef of Valhalla, the pagan G.o.d Andhrímnir," he said slowly, "It is called 'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking'. It was lost long ago and should not exist anymore. But you should know about its whereabouts. You who inherited the phantom library crowned by the name of thedemon that has might over knowledge and books. The Bibliotheca Mystica de Dantalian!"

"...Why?" Huey repeated his question.

Graham frowned discontentedly.

"You are a researcher of gourmet food and recognized by everyone. You have collected such a giant number of cookery books and you even have one of the best cooks in the country as your employee. What more could you long for?"

"I long to savour the best cooking—no more, no less," Graham answered without hesitation. "For gourmet food is the greatest pleasure on earth. It's the ultimate desire and deeply rooted in the human nature itself. Moreover, it and nothing else was the driving force that led to the progress of our civilization. Or as Brillat-Savarin once said: 'The discovery of a new dish confers more happiness on humanity than the discovery of a new star'. And I have yet to find it! That true bliss!"

"And that is why you want to borrow the knowledge of the demons?"

Huey gazed at him with pity in his eyes.

Graham nodded, "I sacrificed my own lifetime in order to seek the best cooking. Did you know that according to some statistics, true gourmet food does not harm the health, but rather lengthens life...? But still, I've not yet reached it. I don't have much time left. Ten, twenty years at most. I want to savour the ultimate gourmet food before my time has come—even if it means to borrow the power of a book whose mere existence is forbidden."

Huey patiently heard Graham out, but in his eyes one could clearly discover bewilderment. He shook his head, unable to understand Graham.

"...how can this be, Dalian?" he whispered to the black-clothed girl, who remained silent.

"What are you hesitating for, Sir Disward?" Irritation was mixed in Graham's voice. "Do you want money? There is no reason to hesitate in that case. Just write down the sum you have in mind on a cheque."

"...you're mistaken, Mr. Atkinson. We don't demand anything in exchange for the books," Huey sighed, slightly annoyed. "But sadly we're not able to hand out a phantom book to you—even if we, for argument's sake, were the owners of that library."

"Why?" Graham asked in a hoa.r.s.e voice, becoming rattled for the first time.

"Because that book—The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking—has already been lent to somebody. Thirteen years ago, that is."

"What did you just say...?" Graham muttered in complete bafflement.

Still raising an eyebrow, Huey continued, "In the diary of grandpa... no, of my grandfather, it was written that the 'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking' was handed out to someone today 13 years ago on a whim. We were sure you were the holder of the book when we travelled here. Since after all, it was shortly after that day that you got widely famous as a gourmet—"

"13 years ago...? Don't tell me that...!" He groaned deeply and sank down in his seat. Then, after a long time of silence, he muttered in a mournful voice:

"It's my head cook..."

"Eh?"

"The chef has got the phantom book. Apparently, everyone thinks that I have created all the recipes, and that I only have the servants cook them for me, but that's not true. The one thinking them out and cooking them is the chef and no one else. It was right about 13 years ago when I employed the current head cook... and still... what a... ooh...!" he mumbled and held his head.

His imposing body seemed a lot smaller than before.

"What a twist of fate... so I have been eating dishes cooked using that phantom book all along? And yet I've not been able to savour the cooking of my desires? Even by using the knowledge of the demons I'm not able to reach my ideal? I firmly believed that my wish would come true if I obtained it..." Graham sighed in grief.

Huey silently looked down at him, while Dalian stood up without making a sound.

"Where is the chef?" she broke the silence.

"In the kitchen, I suppose... that cook should be preparing my dinner right now..."

"I do want to meet the chef. Immediately."

"Do as you will. There doesn't seem to be any use for either of us in talking any more," he said in an indifferent tone.

They gave each other a nod and stepped towards the entrance of the room. Her black dress softly expanded like a large shadow.

Graham addressed their backs:

"Wait! ...allow me just one more question, Sir Disward. Why did you come here if not for lending me the phantom book? Why now, after thirteen years...?"

"The books that are lent by a library do have return dates, Mr. Atkinson..." Huey explained coldly without giving him another glance. "Phantom books are books that should not even exist in the world originally, and hence are sealed away. Not even we know what impact one of them could have on the world if not brought back within the time limit."

Graham looked at them in bewilderment.

The black-dressed girl turned around quietly and proclaimed in a cold and clear voice.

"'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking' has been lent with a time limit of thirteen years. The return date is—tonight."

Part 3

After leaving Graham's workroom, Huey headed together with Dalian to the kitchen.

On the way they pa.s.sed through the hall of the dinner party.

The main dishes were served out and the party was reaching its peak. Everyone admired the arrangement of the food and exhausted their vocabulary with their high praise.

"I don't like this mood."

Huey muttered while looking at them. They somehow appeared irregular to him.

"There is also negative criticism about Graham's dinner parties. For example, that he uses endangered animals and plants in his cooking. Or there are rumours about human bones found in the garbage of the kitchen... And I guess they know about this, too."

"...what is so fun about eating all these things?"

Dalian asked back in a earnest expression. Huey just shrugged his shoulders.

"Why indeed? There are people living in this world that are thankful for anything rare. Whatever it is."

"...even though there would be countless better ingredients. Such fools. Just eat bread. And if there is no bread, do eat confectionery."

Dalian explained her own opinion with plain words.

Ignoring her, Huey continued,

"Of course there are many not doubting Graham, since he's an influential man in a high position. Even I thought so until now. But if the chef is holding the Phantom Book, then that's different... I hope it's not going to be troublesome."

The black dressed girl didn't answer his muttering.

She glanced wordlessly at the scenery beyond the windows.

A blood-red full moon was silently hanging in the far sky.

Many cooks were at work in the kitchen.

And like one would expect of a mansion owned by a person renowned as a gourmet, the kitchen area was quite large. The ground was well paved with stone tiles, and on it, many servants, kitchen and scullery maids could be found scampering around.

Then there was one person who finished up the giant amount of dishes; the kitchen utensils seemed as if an extension of her body.

This was, without doubt, the chef of this mansion. Her movements were completely unlike that of the others.

The pot danced around in her hands almost as if it had a will of its own and an appet.i.te quickening odour spread out just by her adding spices or sauces. When she took a knife, she cut meat with solid bones or vegetables with vivid movements and dished them up beautifully like a flower bed, despite that she didn't seem to put much power in her grip.

Huey seemed captivated and stood stock still for a while, unable to s.h.i.+ft his gaze.

The chef noticed this and looked up.

Surprisingly, the chef was a young woman, seemingly in her mid-twenties.

She finished up the cooking without stocking, put away the knife and then approached Huey and Dalian.

"...so you were the chef of this mansion?"

Huey asked silently. Upon which the chef - Lesley - smiled apologetically.

She was the person who let them ride on a carriage and lead them to the mansion.

"I already expected... you would come."

Lesley answered looking a bit desolate.

"Why?"

Dalian was the one asking back. Lesley looked down on her in nostalgia and said,

"I've changed quite a bit in those thirteen years, but you look the same like when we met, ...Black Biblioprincess. Or was it your mother that time?"

Dalian didn't answer and just gazed at her.

Instead Huey opened his mouth.

"You know 'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking'... don't you, Miss Lesley?"

She answered the question with silence.

"Was it you who accepted the Phantom Book thirteen years ago from my grandfather?" asked Huey.

"Yes, exactly."

Lesley nodded.

"I still remember that day. It was on the day of my father's funeral. He lost his employment all of a sudden and tried to drown his frustration in alcohol. In the end, he died due to a mundane quarrel. If the Lord didn't pick me up, I'm sure I would have died."

Saying so, Lesley suddenly seemed to reconsider and shook her head.

"No, that's not quite true. If I didn't have a talent for cooking... if I hadn't read 'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking', the Lord wouldn't have employed someone like me with an unknown background... what really rescued me was the Phantom Book I borrowed."

Dalian stared in silence at the chef who had a bitter expression.

Huey asked in a kind voice,

"You are aware of the reason we came to meet you, right?"

Lesley smiled.

"The return date has come, hasn't it?"

After saying so readily, she took off her ap.r.o.n, told a kitchen maid something before starting to lead Huey and Dalian.

"Please follow me. The Phantom Book is stored in my room... naturally, I've treated it with great care and didn't do anything that would have brought damage to the book."

"Is Mr. Graham's dinner all right?"

Huey called out to Lesley's back in bewilderment.

She smiled triumphantly and nodded.

"Yes. The dinner of the Lord is almost done. I only need to arrange the last few ingredients."

Lesley kept walking while the duo followed silently behind her.

The room of the chef was underground, not that distant from the kitchen. It was a simple room that one wouldn't expect of a renowned cook. Lesley opened the old solid wood door using an old bronze key.

Dalian muttered suddenly to her back,

"Phantom Books do choose their holders themselves."

Lesley turned around with a wary expression, but Dalian kept looking straight into her face and continued,

"If someone without the qualifications is holding a Phantom Book, then this person gets engulfed in the magical power of the book... I only know very few Phantom Book Readers that held a Phantom Book for thirteen years and didn't drown in this power."

"...Should I be proud about this?"

Lesley smiled, a bit bothered, before shaking her head.

"But I just prepared dishes like it was written in the book. Naturally, it didn't go all that well from the start. I used several years just to learn the basic techniques. But after I've learned those techniques, I just needed to obtain the best ingredients and draw out the delightfulness... I just continued to prepare the dishes written in the Phantom Book like this."

Huey had noticed that Lesley, holding a knife, wasn't looking at him, but at Dalian.

The intonation of her voice slowly weakened while she continued to mutter.

Her face lost every expression and looked empty, almost as if in a state of trance.

"...Where is the Phantom Book, Miss Lesley?"

Huey asked while looking around in the dark underground room.

"Not yet..."

Lesley said smiling artificially.

She took a bottle filled with an unfamiliar spice from a spice-shelf beside the entrance and opened the lid.

"The Lord is not yet satisfied with my cooking. I'm aware of this, for I've not yet made the 'true' cooking written in the Phantom Book...!"

"Lesley?"

Huey called out to her in a serious voice.

She turned around and shook the bottle with natural movements one could get charmed by. The weird-coloured fine powder poured down on Huey's entire body.

"What's this...?!"

Huey put himself on guard with a severe expression. However, without stopping to smile, Lesley said,

"Don't worry, Mr. Huey. This is just a spice I mixed myself. The smell will disappear late at night. But until then, please don't leave this room. If you do, you could get into some serious trouble..."

She said so while stepping back and grabbed the doork.n.o.b. She planned to lock in Huey and Dalian.

Huey reflexively took position to chase after her but then stopped, when he saw that the chef suddenly was holding a knife in her hands. He had noticed that Lesley wasn't looking at him, but at Dalian.

"What are you trying to do, Lesley?" Huey asked with a sigh.

"I shouldn't even need to say this."

Lesley slowly closed the door to the underground room.

With the dignified sound of metal, the door was locked with no mercy. The last thing that could be heard inside the darkened underground room was the bright voice of the chef.

"By all means I have to serve this cooking to the Lord! The best cooking I used thirteen years to complete!"

Part 4

Huey searched in his pockets and took out a lighter. It was a unrefined lighter for military use developed during the war in Austria. Blue sparks scattered, the smell of burned oil started to spread out and then a small flame illuminated the underground room.

"Why do we have to get into such unreasonable troubles, when we just came to get back a loaned book...? It's always the same with work concerning Phantom Books..."

Huey complained while breathing a long sigh.

Dalian scowled at him and said,

"It is no use to weep around with a situation like this."

And then she kicked the wall of the dreary underground room, letting her greaves ring.

"What a pathetic man you are. How dense are you, to be readily locked inside such a place? With this gloomy light I can't even read a book to kill some time."

While expressing a torrent of curses, the black-garbed girl grasped tightly to Huey's back with her fingers, like an timid child who fears the dark does.

"I don't think I've been inattentive, though."

Huey said with a fed up voice while smelling the odour on his coat.

The fine powder Lesley poured over him gave out a characteristic fragrance difficult to describe.

Rather than stimulating the nose, the odour seemed to permeate right into the depths of the head. It wasn't an unpleasant fragrance, but it was unlikely to disappear so easily.

"But how did Lesley...? I didn't sense anyone crossing the boundary..."

Dalian shook her head to Huey's mutter. An extremely frail expression floated over her face.

"She might have crossed the 'boundary' from the beginning. With us just not noticing it. And now slowly, after thirteen years she has..."

"Could be."

Huey didn't try to comfort her. He shook his head while putting his hand into the pocket of his coat,

"But it's not certain either. Please go away a bit, Dalian."

"...what are you planning to do?"

"We can't stay here forever, you see."

Huey took out a weapon; a top-break service revolver. A handgun used by the army.

He pointed the gun to the locked door and pulled a trigger　without hesitation.

A thunderous roar resounded within the small underground room and the bullet opened a hole inside the wooden door. He shot once again, upon which the frail lock shattered and the door opened.

"...a noisy tool, as always."

Dalian cast him an accusatory glance while guarding her ears with both hands. Huey just shrugged wordlessly.

Almost at the same time as both of them left the room, several cooks came running from the kitchen with surprised miens. They probably heard the gunshots.

Huey smiled dimly, seeming to brood about how to deceive them.

However, this facial expression froze at once.

The more the cooks drew near, the more their condition changed.

Almost as if they were hypnotized, their expressions grew empty with only their eyes sparkling in a strong light; the gazes resembled those of hungry wolves.

They weren't looking at Dalian, but at Huey.

But there wasn't any hostility in the eyes of the cooks.

They emitted a more primitive desire. Hunger.

They seemed to feel an intense appet.i.te for Huey's body.

"It appears you look quite tasty in their eyes, Huey."

Dalian stated the facts in a indifferent tone.

Huey curved his lips looking terribly annoyed.

"Lesley's spice earlier... is this odour deluding them?"

"Correct. Not bad, considering it's the cookbook the chef of Valhalla left behind... this is more troublesome than we expected."

Huey nodded to her words.

"They got us, huh? Since I also can't just shoot one of them after the other..."

"...surprisingly you also seem to have some soft parts."

The darkly-robed girl looked up to him lightly amused.

"No... I simply don't have enough bullets. Since I've already used two of them just before."

With these words Huey put away his gun.

During this action, the cooks have drawn nearer. And not just that, one could see how even more people were approaching through the floor as though they were being lured.

The servants of the mansion appeared, as well as Gentlemen and Ladies with smart appearances. In other words, the guests that attended the dinner party in the great hall.

Even they were being attracted by the Lesley's spice.

"I see. This sure is serious trouble."

Huey groaned, remembering Lesley's words.

It was almost like watching an a.s.sembling swarm of wasps that were aroused by the alarm pheromone of their fellows.

If they came attacking all at once, then Huey would have no way to prevail. His whole body would probably be mangled and eaten alive and he'd end up dead.

"...Dalian, may I borrow a book?"

He muttered mixed with a sigh and took off the glove on his right hand.

A beautiful gem was embedded in the back of his hand. A deep crimson one resembling the colour of blood.

Dalian wasn't holding a book right now. They left the book she was reading in the car behind.

Nevertheless, she nodded expressionlessly and quietly reached for her collar.

Pearly-white skin was exposed between the gaps of the wide open black dress.

And in front, in the midst of her neck, a steel chest. An old lock made of metal---

"...I ask of thee, Art thou mankind?"

Huey asked her holding aloft his right hand. It was as if he was casting an ancient forbidden spell.

And Dalian answered like a machine in a cold robotic voice.

『No... We are......』

It was right after that, that the people attracted by the spice came rus.h.i.+ng like a giant wave to crush the two of them.

Part 5

The gourmet Graham Atkinson was currently dining.

Several plates filled with extravagant cuisine were tightly lined up on his personal dining table in his workroom.

The main dish was an unfamiliar meat dish. The freshly cooked and sliced meat had to be dipped in the specially made sauce. The sauce was superbly refined using countless different herbs and spices and its fragrance engulfed the entire room in a fascinating aroma.

Graham's appearance was fulfilled with bliss like never before.

Each time he led the silver fork to his mouth, the word of praise "Wonderful" escaped him.

The chef herself was taking on the role of the waitress, wearing a gorgeous ap.r.o.n.

When she noticed the figures entering the room, she restfully raised her face.

And a light expression of surprise floated over her features.

The visitors of the workroom were a party of two. A young man wearing a frock coat and a black-swathed girl.

The girl was holding a ma.s.sive book in her arms. The colour of the cover of the book had already faded to a brown tint. It was a ma.n.u.script written on parchment. However, except for this no change whatsoever could be seen on their appearance.

The odour of the special mixture of spices was still rising from the body of the young man.

"I'm surprised you managed to arrive here unharmed... a great number of people was supposed to be in the big hall, but didn't you get attacked by them?"

The chef Lesley asked in a calm voice.

Huey shook his head with a wry smile.

"We had those gentlemen sleep for a little while."

"...sleep?"

"'Hazār Afsān', a collection of tales compiled in ancient Persia---"

Huey said taking a peek at the book in Dalian's arms.

"The tyrannic Islamic king Shahryār is said to have slept for thousand and one days after having gotten it read aloud to him. It's the book that was later also used as the ma.n.u.script of 'One Thousand and One Nights' and makes the ones that hear the stories of it fall asleep. However, it's not supposed to exist any more since it has been burned when the Mongolian army raided Baghdad."

"The Phantom Books that shouldn't exist in this world... right? But where on earth did you get this...?"

Lesley smiled amazed.

"I suppose this was a foolish question... you are the owners of the Bibliotheca of Dantalian. The Princess of the Phantom Bibliotheca containing 900666 Phantom Books and its gatekeeper---"

The chef reached for the wagon with the dishes and picked up a book.

The era couldn't be determined, but it was quite an old book. The words "The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking" were engraved on its cover. Embracing this book tightly, she said in a kind voice,

"My father was a cook, too. He worked at this mansion thirteen years ago... but his cuisine couldn't satisfy the Lord, no, my father just accidentally used injured ingredients once and was fired just because of that. As a consequence, he died shortly after."

"...so you're here for revenge?"

Huey said, keeping a straight face.

"Yes, that was my plan... at the beginning."

Lesley nodded pleasantly.

"I thought about modifying the cooking or mixing poison into it. However, the Lord would never accept the cooking of some subordinate cook, and if there was something mixed in the cooking, he would surely notice it. I realised that I couldn't harm the Lord as long as I didn't master the art of cookery."

Huey listened without disrupting her.

Graham continued to silently eat his dinner. His silverware could be heard resounding in the room.

"From then on I was absorbed in reading the Phantom Book I'd borrowed and spent day and night polis.h.i.+ng my skills. Thanks to this, the kitchen has been entrusted to me and before I knew it, I've earned a reputation as a cook. Then I noticed. The Lord was completely right in firing an incompetent cook - in other words, my father."

Lesley smiled brightly with a triumphant look.

"And most of all, I began to seek for the best cooking myself. But the journey was fraught with difficulties. 'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking' contained many hints to achieve this goal, but the recipe for the best cooking itself wasn't written in it."

Lesley put the book away silently.

She looked contently down to her cookery lined up on the dining table.

"However... at last it has been accomplished tonight. I've made the best cooking."

A sense of fulfillment was contained in her low voice, the kind that only people who have finished a masterpiece have.

"Wonderful..."

Graham mumbled with a full mouth.

"Wonderful... This is the cooking I've been seeking for. More... Let me eat more."

The silverware of the gourmet made woeful circles over the empty plate.

Lesley gripped her favourite knife, opened the lid of the container and vividly cut up fresh pieces of meat. She placed them on the plate with fluid movements and ladled a perfect serving of sauce over it.

Lastly, she served it soundlessly to her employer.

"The teachings of 'The Book of the Ultimate Contemplation of Cooking' were simple. Drawing the taste out of the best raw materials without hurting them. For this, I've polished my techniques and learned how to cook living beings without letting them feel pain. But this wasn't enough."

Lesley said, with a melancholic face.

"It doesn't suffice to just make sure they don't suffer. Rather, they have to find it pleasant. The secret for the best cooking was to let the raw materials feel the greatest of pleasures so they would be fulfilled with pleasurable substances while cooking them."

"...The greatest of pleasures?"

Huey asked calmly back.

"It's gourmet food."

Lesley laughed, looking a bit triumphant.

"Gourmet food is an enjoyment limited to humans. And just imagine the insurmountable delight that the person that took gourmet food to the extremes feels, when he comes across the perfect cooking. The brain at the instant when it's fulfilled with pleasurable substances is the best ingredient in this world."

She put down the knife on the wagon and thoroughly washed her hands in a water bowl. Then she dried them with a brand new towel and again took the Phantom Book in her hands.

"I'll return this book as I don't need it any more-"

Dalian easefully walked to her and accepted the Phantom Book.

Huey gazed wordlessly at her back.

"...I liked your fried bread."

At length, Dalian said so in a slightly sad voice. Lesley inclined her head doubtfully, but Dalian continued,

"Even without the best ingredients, it was a most fulfilled taste."

In this moment Lesley breathed up, almost like she remembered something long forgotten, and her expression froze.

But this was just for a moment.

The young chef nodded immediately as if nothing had happened and applied her attention again to Graham.

Huey and Dalian turned their backs and silently left the workroom.

"Aah... more... let me eat more..."

The gourmet murmured in an enraptured voice. The words changed to the groan of an animal in the middle and couldn't be heard well any more. Even so Lesley smiled brightly.

"Please be at ease, my Lord. There's still plenty."

Putting the freshly cut up meat on the plate, she held it out to the man waiting for her.

Then she gently closed the lid of the container containing the valuable ingredient. This container had once been the skull of the man called Graham Atkinson.

The gourmet, famous in the capital, led a piece of his own freshly cut up brain with relish to his mouth and, with a blissful mien, --- smiled.

Part 6

There was a car stopped in midst of a mountain pa.s.s..............

It was an old car once used by the army, and the dim silver body of the car was wet by the early morning fog. The right back wheel was dismantled and the young driver was crouching beside it. A fluffy blanket was laid on the leather-coated seats with a little girl snuggled up in it like a cat.

"I am bored."

She said ill-humouredly. Several thick books that she had already read, were piled up behind her.

"I am hungry. How long do you plan on making me wait, just to replace one or two metal pipes? We went through hards.h.i.+ps getting the parts from a car at the mansion and walking off with them until we arrived, and even so, we had to stay up all night. Just how incapable are you, Huey?"

"...I couldn't get parts with the same standard, so I need some time! Well, after forcibly applying some glue, it should hold until we arrive at the town, I guess."

Saying so, the young driver started to tamper again with the bottom part of the defective car.

Dalian sighed long and looked into the distance.

The morning sun was illuminating the horizon a brilliant white. The outlines of the forest were no longer sunken in darkness but now slowly brightened. She also noticed wheat sprouts showing themselves on the slopes that seemed like mere wasteland before.

The street was gently bent with no end in sight.

A single carriage was drawing near on this street.

An old peasant was riding it. The loading platform was fully loaded with straw bundles.

"What's up at such a place?"

The peasant took his time and slowly stopped next to them.

"As you can see. It has been like this since the car got broken last night."

The girl in the blanket pouted and answered bluntly.

Upon this, the peasant laughed out loud, amused.

"Hoho, that's indeed a bother. Is the repair progressing?"

"Correct... I won't let him say 'no', now that he has made me wait this long."

"Haha... I see, I see. Then I'll give you something to eat while you wait. I'm sure it's going to fill your stomach a bit, young lady."

With these words the peasant presented two fist-size potatoes. They were wrapped up in newspaper, steam was faintly rising from it and the smell of melted b.u.t.ter spread out gently.

Dalian seemed bewildered and looked up to the wrinkled smiling face of the peasant.

"Is it really okay? Isn't this your breakfast...?"

"You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, right? Accept it without reservation. Oh, or do you not like potatoes?"

The girl shook her head to the peasant's words.

She stretched out her protector equipped hands and accepted the warm potatoes.

"Thank you..."

She whispered, and bit into the potato. Then she stuffed her cheeks wordlessly for a while.

Before long, she raised her face when her potato shrunk to about half of its size. She smiled with a face appropriate to her age, and with b.u.t.ter and potato skin all over the region around her lips.

"It's tasty... the best..."

"Hahaaha! Is that so? ...I'm pleased to hear that. I think there's no seasoning that can win against an empty stomach."

The peasant narrowed his eyes contently and laughed.

Wis.h.i.+ng them a good trip, he left them with his loaded carriage. Dalian saw him off with her cheeks still stuffed with potatoes.

"...all right, this should do for now."

After saying so, Huey stood up. He started the engine by turning the hand crank and returned to the driver seat.

A relieved Dalian looked to the sky and took her seat, still wearing the blanket.

The car moved off, producing an awkward sound of metal smas.h.i.+ng together. After they rode for a while on the forlorn road, Huey seemed to have remembered something and asked gently,

"Dalian, can I have some of the potato, too?"

Her answer was simple.

"No. This is my potato."

"But I'm rather hungry, having been repairing all night long."

"No. It was originally your fault that we stood still there."

Huey shook his head, annoyed.

"I got it. Just give me the other one."

"Are you still half asleep? Both of them are mine."

"Please, at least half..."

"No. What a greedy man you are."

Dalian said, amazed.

"Who is!"

Huey muttered with a miserable expression.

With the two of them arguing on it, the car disappeared slowly into the morning fog.