stonecrandall Chapter 54 Dinner
Chapter 54 Dinner
Ayaka's breathing gradually calmed down. She opened her notebook, touched the page with her pen to Archer, and wrote a line:
"I want the sword in the lake, the prototype of which isn't in the treasury." She looked up after writing that.
"Won't he just rob it?"
"Won't."
"But he won't give up."
Ayaka closed the notebook and hugged it to her chest.
"Then let's make him want it forever, and never be able to get it." Her voice was very soft, but the tip of her pen made a tiny period on the paper.
Arthur looked down at the Lake Sword at his waist. The lake-blue light on the sword flowed quietly, just like it had before Gilgamesh arrived.
It doesn't care about the Hero King's possessiveness, it doesn't care about "collection" and "exchange", and it doesn't care about the evaluation of anything "that already exists".
It is just a sword, a living sword.
The original holy sword chose to continue growing; it is not a collection, it is still growing.
When they returned to the mansion, there was another letter in the mailbox in the entrance hall. Ayaka glanced at it but didn't open it. She handed the letter directly to Arthur.
"My sister's."
The envelope had a line of text on it: "Evening, dinner." The strokes were a little heavier than yesterday's.
Ayaka stood in the entryway, looking at the envelope.
"She never cooked for anyone before. When my father was alive, the servants cooked for us. After my father died, the servants left, and she stopped cooking too. I have no idea what she eats."
She lowered her head. "I don't know when she learned it."
Arthur put the letter in his pocket.
Arthur stood by the window, deep within the Dragonforce River, where the riverbed at Meryl's anchor point glowed.
He placed his hand on his chest, conveying today's "peace." After a long time, Melly responded, still asking, "Who did you meet?"
Arthur still did not answer.
The lights were on in the windows of the Western-style mansion across the river.
Aige sat on the windowsill with the watering can beside her; half the water in the can had already been used up.
The yellow wildflower was placed on the windowsill closest to the moonlight. Its petals were a little firmer than yesterday. She stretched out her finger and touched the petals very, very lightly.
"mine."
The sound was as soft as breath, like white mist, but this time, the mist did not dissipate.
The moonlight outside the window shone on the wildflowers, on her golden hair, and on her sapphire-like eyes.
She withdrew her fingers, placed her hands together on her knees, and instead of looking out the window, she looked at the flowers.
She had never cooked dinner. Her omniscience and omnipotence allowed her to know "how to do it," but "doing" itself never meant anything to her.
Everything in the world follows a known script. Cooking, like breathing, is something we "can do," not something we "want to do."
But now, it has meaning.
……
All the windows in the mansion were lit, and warm yellow light spilled out from every windowpane, turning the neatly trimmed grass in the yard a pale gold.
Arthur pushed open the door, and the light in the entryway was on. On the shoe cabinet was a slender glass vase with a single flower in it.
Yellow wildflowers, moved from the windowsill.
The petals are a little firmer than yesterday. The curls at the edges haven't fully unfurled yet, but the color is no longer a withered yellow; it's a bright, recovering luminous yellow.
The water in the vase was clear, and the water level was just above the cut end of the flower stem.
Aige stood at the kitchen doorway, her long golden hair tied into a low ponytail with a white ribbon, hanging down her shoulders.
She was wearing a white dress with a light blue apron tied around her neck. The apron was new, and the creases were still visible.
Barefoot on the wooden floor, her sapphire-like eyes reflected the kitchen light.
Seeing Arthur appear behind her, her eyes widened slightly, gleaming. "Dinner is ready."
Arthur followed Aige into the restaurant. The table was covered with a new white tablecloth with creases radiating outwards from the center.
There are six plates, each containing a different amount of food, ranging from more to less, like a gradually changing spectrum.
Each plate contained bacon, fried eggs, roasted tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, toast, and a side of black tea.
The bacon edges are slightly curled up, the yolk of the fried egg is almost set, the sliced mushrooms are evenly sliced, and the toast is toasted until the edges are golden brown.
Everything was done to the best of its ability... and could only be done to the best of its ability.
"How long did you work?"
Ai Ge didn't answer. She walked to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and stood beside it.
After Arthur sat down, she walked to the opposite side, pulled out another chair, sat down, placed her hands folded on her knees, and still had her apron on.
"I start doing it in the morning," she said.
"The first time, the bacon was burnt; the second time, the eggs were scrambled; the third time, the mushrooms were cut too thick; the fourth time, the toast was over-toasted; and the fifth time, the black tea was bitter."
Her voice was clear and cheerful, like she was reporting the weather forecast, "The sixth time."
The sky outside the window was completely dark, and the lamplight cast a warm yellow glow on the dining table.
"You've been working all day?"
"Um."
Arthur picked up his fork. The bacon was fried just right, with slightly curled edges and a slight crunch when bitten into. The scrambled eggs had milk in them, giving them a soft texture.
The sourness of the roasted tomatoes is brought back by a touch of sugar, and the edges of the toast have a very thin layer of caramel color, making it crispy on the outside and soft on the inside when you bite into it.
Aigo just stared at him, her hands folded on her knees, motionless.
I watched it because I wanted to.
She doesn't need to explain why she's looking, doesn't need to hide that she's looking, doesn't need to attach any meaning to her gaze; she just looks.
She spoke up when Arthur was eating his third plate.
"You met the King of Heroes today."
Arthur stopped eating. "You know?"
"Because I'm watching you, and I see that he wants your sword."
Arthur glanced down at the Lake Sword at his waist; the lake-blue light on the blade flowed quietly in the lamplight.
Arthur looked at her.
The speck of dust in her blue eyes began to spin again, very slowly.
Arthur put down his fork; there was still a little over half a plate of bacon left on the fifth plate.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Aige asked.
"I'm stuffed."
Aige stared at the remaining half of his bacon for a long time, then reached out, took the plate, and picked up her fork.
She didn't touch the portion in front of her, but instead picked up the half-slice of bacon, put it in her mouth, and chewed it very slowly.
"It's a little cold now," she said, swallowing, "but it tastes good."
She placed the plate back on the table, the dust particles in her blue eyes slowly swirling, as if they had found some kind of rhythm of their own.
"Dinner again tomorrow," she said.
"I will come."
Aige smiled as she stood up and began clearing the plates. Of the six plates, five were empty, one had half a slice of bacon left, and that one had already been eaten by her.
She stacked the plates and carried them to the sink, turned on the tap, and the water splashed onto the plates, making a loud noise. She had her back to Arthur.
"You met the King of Heroes today, but you might meet other Servants tomorrow. You will get hurt, you will bleed, and you will get tired."
The sound of water stopped.
"You must come back; this is my Command Seal."
Arthur stood up and walked to the entrance. The yellow wildflower in the slender vase was shining brightly in the light. He reached out and touched the petals very, very lightly.
"When Mary picked it, she certainly didn't know it would end up being kept here."
Arthur pushed open the door and stepped into the night. After a few steps, he turned back and saw that the kitchen light was the brightest.
A blonde girl wearing a light blue apron stood at the window, not waving, but just standing there, looking at him.
He continued walking, across the red bridge, past the convenience store with its lights off, past the empty swing in the small park.
In Ayaka's family mansion, the window at the end of the second-floor corridor was still lit, and the lights in the first-floor living room were also on.
He pushed open the door, and Ayaka was sitting on the sofa with her notebook open on her lap. She had turned to a new page, and every page was filled with densely packed notes.
Hearing him push the door open and come in, she didn't look up; her short brown hair fell down, covering half of her face.
"What did my sister do?"
"It was just dinner, and I spent the whole day making it, burning it five times."
Ayaka's pen paused on the paper for a moment. "She never used to cook."
"I did it now."
Ayaka finished filling in the last cell of the form, closed the notebook, and said, "There are rice balls in the kitchen, I saved them for you."
She stood up, holding her notebook, and walked towards the stairs.
He took a few steps and stopped without looking back, the ends of his brown hair swaying gently over his shoulder.
"Is her cooking good?"
"tasty."
Ayaka paused for a moment, then murmured, "Hmm." The footsteps faded at the end of the corridor.
Arthur stood in the entryway, his hand on his chest, the four beats of the Dragon's Hearth steady as always.
But this time, a very pale blue shone beside the silver-white that belonged to Merry.
A faint blue ripple appeared on the silvery-white anchor point river.
The two anchor points lit up simultaneously for the first time in the same heartbeat.