Over the past few days, Lynch had fantasized more than once about the food at the Governor's Mansion. After all, a transmigrator who hadn't seen the world found everything novel and intriguing.
For instance, would the tables be piled high with fish and chips?
Would there be mounds of golden-brown roasted potatoes stacked on the floor?
Octopus tentacles crawling out of cooking pots?
Or massive, bloody slabs of beef?
Pies stuffed with fish staring blankly up at the sky with unclosed eyes? Lynch had actually eaten that kind of pie before. Truth be told, his stomach had been fine after eating it without any discomfort; what had suffered was his sanity.
Yet as it turned out, he had overthought things. Neither the Kingdom of Lande nor the Duke's mansion was quite as dreadful as he had imagined.
The chef at the Duke's mansion had been hired all the way from the neighboring Kingdom of Friedman, preparing authentic, renowned Friedman royal court cuisine.
Finely crafted, elegantly sculpted, beautifully plated, and artfully colored, with delicate culinary techniques—in short, it was clearly meant for human consumption, not for the people of Lande. That was truly something to be grateful for.
Dinner was served buffet-style.
It was not as Lynch had imagined, with a mob of people wandering around holding plates, taking a forkful here and a nibble there—after all, that would be begging, not a banquet.
In reality, it was much like the buffets from his previous world, only the dishes were far more exquisite and plentiful.
Most importantly, there was no one grabbing entire serving platters and dumping them directly onto their own plates, which put Lynch in a wonderful mood.
Impeccably dressed gentlemen and ladies chatted softly with gentle laughter as they strolled past food stations laden with various dishes, picking a few items before sitting down at nearby small tables to savor them. Throughout, their movements were elegant and their garments perfumed, matching Lynch's exact stereotype of high-society banquets.
Lynch had no time to pay attention to these upper-class figures, however; his gaze had already been thoroughly captured by the food.
Several long tables were laden with nearly a hundred distinct dishes without a single repeat. More importantly, there wasn't just one set of these long tables, but ten, forming ten dining sections. Even with nearly two thousand guests in attendance, the venue did not feel chaotic or overcrowded.
Nor was there any shortage of food; the dishes on the tables were continuously replenished.
Plump, tender oysters sprinkled with red and green chilies and spices sizzled with tiny bubbles under high heat, exuding the fresh, savory fragrance of the sea.
Plump foie gras was delicate and silky smooth, arranged on plates in the shape of a swan spreading its wings, with blueberry sauce drawn in ripples across the porcelain as though a graceful swan were taking flight from the water into the sky.
The freshest beef was cut into thick cubes, bobbing gently in a rich red broth. Brown meat, white marbling, and pale yellow sinew were visibly tender and succulent from simmering in the sweet and sour tomato stew, its savory meaty aroma blending with the rich soup to waft into everyone's nostrils.
There were golden-brown turkeys, suckling pigs tender enough to slice with a plate, rich and juicy whole roast lamb, landstriders from the New Continent, crown ducks from the Old Continent, deep-sea eels from the Central Sea, colorful assortments of vegetables, intricately shaped desserts, and even chilled ice cream emitting gentle wisps of cold mist.
Lynch was not only dazzled; his heart was utterly captivated.
Having grown accustomed to Mrs. Maggie's cooking, he couldn't wait to try some new flavors. It wasn't that Mrs. Maggie's cooking was bad, but after all... she was from Lande.
“Mama, this person is badmouthing you in his head. Starve him from now on.”
Huh? You brat, can you read minds?
He didn't even need to look to know who it was. Turning around, sure enough, the radiant Mrs. Maggie and the thoroughly punchable little Martha stood right behind him.
The blonde lady wore a pure white gown and a silver headband, her long legs clad in flesh-toned stockings and paired with silver crystal high heels. The outfit almost made Lynch look around for a pumpkin carriage and the fairy godmother who transformed it; after all, while this world didn't have Cinderella, it had similar fairy tales.
Little Martha was dressed in a black Gothic Lolita dress with a red ribbon in her hair and little red leather shoes, looking exceptionally adorable—excluding, of course, the irritating antics of poking Lynch's thigh while ratting him out.
“Heehee, Martha, don't tease your Uncle Lynch. He can be quite fierce when he hits people.” Mrs. Maggie covered her mouth with a giggle. Seeing Lynch looking around, her eyes curved into crescents as if sharing a silent joke. “What are you looking for, Mr. Detective? Are you looking for the magical wizard who used corn husks to conjure this dress and grant my wish to attend the ball? No need to look; you won't see him. Only I can.”
As she spoke, her ocean-blue eyes swept across Lynch's face.
Hiss. Mature women were truly dangerous. No, this wouldn't do—he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight again.
Lynch hadn't expected that right after coming over to eat, he would run into the landlady and her daughter among thousands of guests. With ten dining sections, could fate really produce such a coincidence?
“It's not a coincidence, Mr. Detective,” Mrs. Maggie said softly. “A kind steward saw our invitation and suggested we come to this section. I imagine it was on your account.”
“Hm? What's special about this place? Because it's less crowded?”
Lynch looked around in confusion. He had simply sought out the least crowded area. But now, prompted by the landlady, he realized: despite having fewer than twenty people here while other areas had hundreds, nobody else came over to take advantage of the empty space. He had been the only one.
“It's nothing. You don't need to worry about such things, Mr. Detective.”
Yet Lynch already understood why the banquet was divided into ten sections.
Nobles had their own section, powerful ministers had theirs, wealthy moguls had theirs, and common folk had theirs.
This wasn't arrogance; rather, it was a particular thoughtfulness on the organizers' part. Forcing people of disparate social statuses together created unnecessary pressure for those of lower standing, and was especially agonizing for hypersensitive individuals who felt every stray remark was aimed at them.
It seemed that no matter the world, insurmountable chasms of status always existed.
“All right, Martha, let's not bother Uncle Lynch.”
After a few casual words, Mrs. Maggie glanced around and took little Martha's hand, preparing to leave. Lynch knew she didn't want others to see him associating with them, lest it damage his social standing.
“That won't do. After all, you wouldn't want little Martha to miss out on a good dinner, would you, Mrs. Maggie?”
Lynch smiled, calmly ruffling little Martha's hair under Mrs. Maggie's watchful gaze.
“I enjoy messing around with little Martha in public; there's no need to avoid anyone. I even enjoy spanking her in broad daylight, and anyone who sees it would only say she had it coming.”
“Hey, that's not messing around—you just want to hit me!”
Little Martha covered her backside, glaring suspiciously at Lynch as if itching to kick him in the shin, while Mrs. Maggie gently bit her lip and whispered, “But you...”
“I am Lynch Levive, the famous detective of Rhine City. Things other people need to tiptoe around don't apply to me. Heh, those rules mean nothing to me. No matter who they are, they're the ones who have to come to me, not the other way around.”
Mother and daughter looked at Lynch in astonishment, finding it hard to take in. Yet just seconds later, a faint stir rippled through the surrounding area.
Turning their heads, they saw two elderly men and two young ladies walking over, surrounded by an entourage of attendants.
Duke Vane and his close friend Archbishop Trinlais of the Black Night, accompanying Princess Sophia and her maid Miss Fia, together with Miss Valente, an old acquaintance also from the royal capital, and Officer Natalie of the Watchers, had all arrived together.
The moment they drew near, the old Duke called out warmly of his own accord, “Mr. Levive, you certainly are hard to find! Hahaha.”
“Now this is the wizard helping you.”
Lynch spread his hands and winked at the mother and daughter before flashing a smile, taking off his hat, and bowing to the arriving group.
He already realized: the real feast had begun.
“Good evening, everyone.”
Rate on N.U.
