The next morning, the two of them headed out.
Their destination was the dessert shop Diancie had specifically mentioned the day before, saying their almond milk crisps were exceptional and that they simply had to try them.
Klein hadn't taken it too seriously at the time, but Ophelia had remembered. After getting ready in the morning, she pulled him out of the house. He allowed himself to be led for a few steps, glancing down at her hand gripping his wrist. He said nothing and followed along.
The shop wasn't large, tucked away at the corner of a flagstone street. Its storefront was plain, but the inside was quite crowded. Klein swept his gaze across the room as they entered, his eyes pausing on a particular corner as he looked for a seat.
He gave the back of Ophelia's hand a light nudge.
Ophelia followed his gaze. She didn't speak, only narrowing her eyes slightly.
Two people were sitting at a corner table by the window. One was wearing a slightly worn, light brown coat, her hair tied up casually without any ornaments. She was looking down at the dessert menu—it was Diancie.
It took Klein only about two seconds to recognize her.
It wasn't because her disguise was poor, but because her eyes and her posture were far too distinctive. She had suppressed her noble air, but she couldn't hide the relaxed poise of someone who had been pampered since childhood. She had changed into ordinary clothes, but she was still the same person.
Sitting beside her was a middle-aged man with a straight back. His clothes were ordinary, but almost too deliberately so—as if he had specifically chosen them to keep a low profile. Klein let his gaze linger on the man's face for a moment without staring. His features were steady, the curve of his brow bone somewhat similar to Diancie's, but his eyes lacked that irrepressible spiritedness she possessed.
Considering Diancie's identity, he already had a rough idea of who the man was.
The two of them chose a seat near the door. Before they could call over a waiter, the pair across the room moved first.
Diancie looked up, likely scanning the shop, and her eyes met Klein's.
She froze for about half a breath.
Then her expression became a bit complicated—not entirely surprised, but more of a subtle embarrassment that said, "I knew this would happen, yet I still got caught." She lowered the dessert menu and reached out to tug on the middle-aged man's sleeve, pointing toward Klein and Ophelia.
The middle-aged man turned his head and took a quick look.
The two of them immediately rose and walked over.
Klein stood up without any unnecessary movement. Beside him, Ophelia gave a slight bow. Her posture was composed and dignified, her back perfectly straight—her salute was never the submissive kind; it was a knight's salute, performed while standing tall.
“Your Majesty, it has been a long time.”
Her voice was level, her etiquette perfect, not a single movement wasted.
The man addressed as such showed no change in expression, merely nodding. His gaze lingered on Ophelia's face for a moment—not scrutinizing, but more like confirming something—before moving to Klein. He looked him over once and said in a calm tone, “Sit.”
Ophelia took her seat again, not looking at the Emperor but keeping her gaze on the table. Klein sat down beside her, his elbow lightly brushing against hers at the edge of the table. It was a soft touch, seemingly casual, as if it were unintentional or just a coincidence.
Diancie sat down opposite them, picking up the dessert menu to shield her face. “I... I didn't think you'd actually come...”
“The Princess's recommendation was very sincere,” Ophelia said, her tone even. “Naturally, we had to try it.”
Diancie lowered the menu a bit, peeked at her, and then pulled it back up. The menu was held much higher now than when they had first walked in.
The man sitting next to her didn't take a menu. With his hands resting on the table, he looked at Klein. “You don't seem surprised by my identity.”
“When we walked in,” Klein replied at a moderate pace, “Your Majesty's posture didn't quite look like that of someone here for dessert.”
The Emperor fell silent for a breath and said nothing.
Diancie quietly held the menu even higher, covering everything below the bridge of her nose.
A waiter came over to take their order. Klein glanced at the samples on the counter and ordered the almond milk crisps, also asking for a hot drink for Ophelia.
Ophelia raised no objection, only turning her head to look at him. He had already looked away, studying what was written in the second column of the menu.
The Emperor ordered rye crepes. Diancie wanted three items, but after a look from the Emperor, she quietly changed it to two, her voice dropping by half like a cat caught by its tail.
After the waiter left, the table was quiet for a moment.
The Emperor spoke first. “I heard from Diancie that the pollution on the west coast has not been entirely cleared.”
“Yes,” Ophelia answered. “The sea monsters retreated, but the things they left behind did not.” She paused. “Furthermore... the things on the west coast seem to be undergoing some different changes. We are still observing the specifics.”
As she spoke, her left hand rested on the table, her sleeve pressed down to hide most of that blackened patch of skin. It was a habitual movement, done so naturally that it seemed unconscious.
Klein took a sip of water beside her and didn't interject. His gaze swept over Ophelia's wrist, but he said nothing, only pushing his teacup slightly closer to her.
The atmosphere couldn't be called oppressive, but it wasn't relaxed either. Sitting to the side, Diancie looked back and forth between them. Sensing a responsibility to liven things up, she cleared her throat. “Actually, Father—”
“Diancie,” the Emperor interrupted. His tone wasn't heavy, but Diancie immediately swallowed the rest of her sentence.
The Emperor didn't expect them to follow up, continuing, “Regarding the west coast, I plan to send new people to follow up. If you have any needs, you can tell Diancie.”
Diancie instantly sat up straight. She put down the menu, her expression becoming serious and her eyes shining like a young deer suddenly entrusted with a heavy responsibility.
Klein glanced at her and couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth inwardly.
The desserts were served. The almond milk crisps were placed between Klein and Ophelia, a portion for two. The plate was made of plain pottery in a light brown hue, and the edges of the crisps were baked to a thin, toasted brown. The aroma was rich and authentic. Klein used a fork to cut a corner, put it in his mouth, chewed, and then pushed the plate toward Ophelia. He didn't say anything, just pushed it over.
Ophelia looked down and took a piece with her fork.
Diancie stared at this detail, then quietly looked away and poked at her own dessert twice. She seemed to be suppressing something she wanted to say, but in the end, she just poked it once more.
The Emperor took in this little scene without comment and picked up his teacup again. He took a sip, set it down, and as if thinking of something, said in a very level tone, “Knight Ophelia, you have worked hard during this period.”
“It was my duty.”
“And,” she added, “it can hardly be called hard work.”
The murmurs of people filled the shop. Outside the window, the light was just right, casting a diagonal beam that fell onto the edge of the table, clearly outlining the almond milk crisps.
This informal meeting continued at a leisurely pace amidst the fragrance of the almond milk crisps.
Rate on N.U.
