Chapter 47 - A Night of Squeezing Limes
Once their meal was finally over, the three of them sank lazily into the sofa.
"It’s close to the taste you’d get at a restaurant... I never realized how delicious freshly fried food could be."
"Agreed. The only issue is how well it pairs with ale."
"I'm glad you liked it. As a thank-you for being my guarantor, I’ve prepared two compact magic stoves as presents. Try it out at home. I’ve also added some recipes, like cheese-based hot pots and others."
It had been her decision to gift compact magic stoves to those who acted as guarantors for her business. She had already prepared the ones to be given to the others. As for Volf, who had already bought one himself, she planned to give him something different.
"Thank you, Dahlia. We’ll gladly accept them—and I’ll spread the word about them to my customers."
"That would be great! If they sell well, I’ll make sure to give something back to all my guarantors."
"Alright, I’ll have high expectations in two years’ time."
As they laughed and chatted, they prepared post-dinner drinks.
Too comfortable to move much, Dahlia placed bottles of rum, soda water, a sugar jar, and a bowl of limes on the table.
"Marcella, it’s your turn!"
"I figured as much the moment I saw the limes."
At Irma's remark, the man chuckled wryly and stepped out briefly to wash his hands.
"Now’s the time to show us your skills, Marcella!"
"Yeah, yeah."
When the man returned, he gave a nonchalant reply while casually tearing at a green lime. Squeezing it through the peel with ease, he produced a steady stream of juice that dripped heavily into the glass, almost as if it had been processed by a machine.
"Marcella-san, you're amazing as always..."
"It's not a big deal. Most of the guys at the Courier Guild can do this level of body reinforcement."
As he spoke, he added rum and a generous amount of sugar to the glass, stirring it with a stick. While it wasn't as thorough as shaking it properly, the mixture blended well enough.
She had him make this before. It closely resembled a daiquiri, a cocktail she had enjoyed in her previous life.
Marcella squeezed another lime and poured rum and soda water into a different glass. This combination was his personal favorite.
"Alright, let’s have a second toast. Your turn, Irma!"
"What, me? Uh, let’s toast to working hard from tomorrow onward, to health, and to good luck! Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
The glasses clinked together with a cheerful sound, and she took a small sip of the drink.
The sweetness of the sugar and the tartness of the lime was followed by the sharp hit of the rum's alcohol on her tongue and throat.
The taste of rum and lime after eating fried food was simply exquisite.
"Alcohol really does go to a separate stomach, doesn’t it?"
"It’s still the same stomach that gets fatter, though."
"Marcella, you’re completely lacking in tact! Just so lacking!"
"My bad..."
Dahlia couldn’t help but laugh listening to the lively conversation between the couple.
This couple, unchanged before and after marriage, was always pleasant to watch.
For a moment, she wondered—if she had married Tobias, would she have been able to laugh like this now? The thought left a faint bitterness in her drink.
"Hey, Dahlia-chan, just hypothetically—if you ever feel like dating someone, let me know. I can introduce you to some promising young men from the Courier Guild."
The man offered, as if seeing through her thoughts, but Dahlia gave a small smile and replied,
"Thanks, Marcella-san, but I’m not really interested in romance or marriage anymore."
"Dahlia, I think making new male friends would be a good idea, though."
"Actually... I’ve already made one."
Dahlia admitted after a brief hesitation. Given that they’re usually in and out of the Merchant Guild and that Marcella is one of her guarantors, it was better to tell them directly sooner rather than later.
"Really? What kind of person?"
"He’s from the Chivalric Order’s Monster Subjugation Force."
"The Chivalric Order? That’s quite an impressive connection."
"Is he someone who visits the Merchant Guild for supplies?"
"No, we just happened to meet twice and got along, so we became friends."
"Well, I trust you, Dahlia, but that's...?"
Irma narrowed her reddish-brown eyes, a mix of doubt and concern evident in her expression.
"Look, I know people might say I’m being played or playing around, and I understand it could be seen negatively. But it’s not like that—we’re just friends. Plus, he became an investor for my company."
"An investor for your company? Is he a noble?"
"Yes."
As she explained further, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were misunderstanding the situation.
Dahlia found herself lost in thought, wondering how to explain it to the two of them, who now wore uncertain expressions.
"What’s he like, Dahlia?"
"Uhm, to sum it up in one sentence... 'he’s someone who really loves magic swords.'"
For Dahlia, this was the only way to describe Volf in one sentence, while still putting it gently.
"Magic swords... Oh, it's like a sort of relative of magical tools, right?"
"I get it now. So, he's the kind of guy who'd probably bite if you dangled a rare magic sword on a fishing rod, right? I guess that makes sense since you're the type to get caught with rare magic tools yourself."
Why is that what convinces him? And was that analogy even appropriate? Daliah couldn’t help but feel a bit dissatisfied.
Still, Volf really was the kind of young man who might be caught by a fishing rod baited with a magic sword.
And, truthfully, she couldn’t deny the part about herself either.
"If he's your friend, Dahlia-chan, I'd love to drink with him, but being a noble, he probably wouldn’t join us commoners for a drink, would he?"
"I’ll ask him about it sometime."
When she was with Volf, there wasn’t much of a noble air about him.
However, she wasn’t sure how Volf would feel about meeting her friends. It was possible he might not want to meet women at all.
"Since your father was a baron, maybe he doesn’t mind that kind of thing? I mean, the etiquette and things you consider normal might not make sense to the rest of us… Wouldn’t it trouble him?"
"I think it’ll be fine. Besides, it might become a rumor eventually, so I’ll tell you in advance—he’s from Count Scalfarotto’s family, the youngest of his siblings."
"The Scalfarottos... the water family?"
"Yes, that water family."
The way just saying "water family" was enough to convey so much made her realize again how famous the Scarfarotto name really was.
"Dahlia-chan, really... No, I do trust you, but..."
"It’s fine. That’s the normal reaction."
Dahlia felt the urge to explain more about Volf, but considering the circumstances and the nature of their relationship, she could understand why they might be worried herself.
On one hand, he was a nobleman, and she was a common woman; she had considered the possibility that people might say she was being played with, or that he was her patron or lover, as society often did.
However, the day she became friends with Volf, she accepted all those possibilities and chose that path.
"...If possible, I’d like to meet him and talk with him once."
"Hey, Irma."
"Because, you know, Dahlia’s the type who might end up with a hopeless guy if she’s not careful."
"Huh?"
"After all, Dahlia, you didn't have to put up with Tobias for so long."
"...I admit we weren’t a good match."
Before she could finish, Irma leaned forward.
"That's not it! It’s not about being a good match, it’s that you tried to match what he said he wanted too much. You never had to listen to everything that fool said! Even though he was always being unreasonable, every time I asked if you were okay, all you ever said was that you were fine and that I shouldn’t worry about it! You called me your friend, yet..."
"That’s enough, Irma, stop."
Marcella said, placing a gentle hand on his wife’s head.
He pulled Irma closer with one hand, then sat slightly forward, hiding his downcast wife behind his shoulder.
"Sorry about that. Irma’s had a bit too much to drink."
"No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, Irma, Marcella-san."
"There’s no need for any apologies."
"No. I should have faced it properly, like Irma told me earlier. You've told me that a few times too, Marcella-san. You said I shouldn't hold back with Tobias, that as husband and wife, I should be able to say what I really feel."
"...Well, I might’ve said something like that."
Despite her friends’ concerns and advice, she had ignored them.
She’d shut her ears to their words and trapped herself in the image of an ideal wife she’d convinced herself she should be.
"Now I can see how wrong I was. That’s why, from now on—no, I mean, going forward, too—if you think I’m mistaken, don’t hesitate to tell me. And if I notice something, I promise I’ll say it as well."
"...Got it. You hear that, Irma?"
Irma, who had been leaning against his shoulder, raised her slightly red eyes.
"I’ll really say it straight to your face, you know, Dahlia."
"Please do, Irma."
"...Well then, let’s toast again."
After a somewhat forced toast with the little bit of alcohol they had left, Marcella resumed his task of squeezing limes in bulk.
"Sorry to bring it back up, but about that friend of yours—do you mind if I ask something?"
"Not at all, go ahead."
"I’m uh... curious about this Monster Subjugation Force he’s in."
"When I talk to him, he seems like an ordinary person."
"Still, being in the Monster Subjugation Force seems like a really dangerous job."
Marcella fell silent after saying that.
Marcella probably wanted to voice his concerns about him getting injured or his life being in danger but refrained from saying it outright.
"His name is Volfred, and he’s part of the Scarlet Armor."
She said it with a deliberately cheerful tone, but for some reason, her chest ached slightly.
Perhaps she was still remembering her father.
"But he said he’s been in the Scarlet Armor for years and has never had a major injury."
"...I see. He must be incredibly strong."
"Yes."
She had never seen Volf fight, but she knew that anyone who had been at the forefront of Monster Subjugation Force for so long couldn’t possibly be weak.
So, she chose to trust in that strength.
"Oops, I almost forgot. Irma, try this out for me. Then, let me know what you think."
Dahlia took a cloth-wrapped package from the shelf and handed it to Irma, who had been silently sipping her drink.
"What’s this?"
"A foaming pump bottle. It dispenses liquid soap as foam."
Since the first time she designed it, Dahlia had continuously improved the foaming pump bottle. She had refined it to be easy to press with minimal effort and structured it to be as simple to manufacture as possible.
The package she handed Irma contained two bottles.
She had made about ten more and planned to consult the Merchant Guild about them soon.
"This is interesting. If it’s already foamy, washing hair will be much easier. I’ll start using it right away. I think I’ll put one in the bathroom sink."
"Let me know if you find anything inconvenient about it."
"Got it. Should I write it down as usual?"
"Yes, please."
Irma had been helping Dahlia test her prototypes since her academy days, acting as a feedback contributor.
Even with waterproof cloth, Irma’s unfiltered opinions—like "This type smells fishy when it gets wet," "The blue-black color is too creepy," and "It feels too much like a slime, like it’s sticking to my hands—ugh!"—had been immensely helpful.
As compensation, Dahlia often gave Irma magical tools like the dryer, magic stones, as well as other things she had requested. Perhaps she could offer a refrigerator next time.
"This will make washing my face more convenient..."
"Exactly. Marcella’s not a morning person, so he barely washes his face properly."
"Mornings are rough, aren't they..."
When she got engrossed in her work and stayed up late, the following morning always felt like a struggle.
"Dahlia, Marcella, you both stay up too late and drink too much. Start by cutting back on the alcohol!"
As his wife gave them earnest advice, Marcella squeezed a fresh lime into his glass.
Pouring a generous amount of rum into the mix with a cheerful smile, he replied,
"It’s already too late for that tonight. Let’s save that warning for another day."
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