Returning to the Gardener's Garden after so long stirred a deep sense of nostalgia.

The reason I came here was due to the reactions of the Cook and Belle.

Afta, Zumya, Fiore, Nutrice, and even Oko, who hadn’t yet shown himself—
I knew all their names and addressed them accordingly.

But I had yet to call the names of the deities I met early on alongside Fiore. That realization struck me as something that could deeply hurt them, which led me here.

It would have been easy to just summon them with the horn and call their names right away, but that wasn’t the issue.

It felt awkward.

Summoning the two of them and saying, "You’re Pau, and you’re… uh, what’s your name again?" seemed bizarre and inappropriate.

So, logically, I needed to meet and talk to them in order, calling their names properly. But who decides the order?

Calling the Cook first felt off, and starting with Belle seemed strange as well.

Come to think of it, is it really okay for me to keep creating situations like this?

Grandfather’s words about avoiding grievances echoed in my mind, but how was I supposed to handle the aftermath of all these unresolved issues?

Oh, my past self.

You really went around doing all these insane things, fully expecting your future self to sort them out, didn’t you?

Actions I would never take now, you handled without hesitation.

Unfortunate as it may be, intentional or not, I’ll have to bear the consequences.

Fine.

At this point, all I can do is leave things to my future self, just as my past self did.

I blew the horn.

Two glowing figures began to take shape.

One grew tall and slender, while the other took on the form of perky dog ears.

As their forms became clearer, my heart pounded in my chest.

How should I face them?

What should I say?

While I agonized over these pointless questions, the sound of two figures lightly landing reached my ears.

The Cook and Belle had finally manifested.

An awkward silence filled the air.

Even my mind, usually buzzing with thoughts or chatter, had gone quiet.

For a moment, I wondered if the Giant of the Snowy Mountain had frozen the atmosphere itself.

As I struggled to force even a stiff smile, the Cook broke the silence with a gentle grin.

"Shall we have a meal first?"

Though I appreciated her breaking the ice, her smile pierced me like a dagger—it didn’t seem genuine at all.

 

It reminded me of the old days.

When I gathered with the deities to strengthen our bonds, I had summoned the Cook first and eaten the meal she prepared.

Back then, I sat at the table with a warm heart, but now the atmosphere was stiff and cold, with only the sound of Belle panting softly breaking the silence.

Glancing at Belle for some form of rescue, I noticed her tail drooping low, contrary to the sound of her breathing. She looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The cold, distant aura I felt from the Cook earlier wasn’t present, but her slouched posture gave the impression of someone bearing all the world’s misfortunes.

Sigh.

I hadn’t called her out before, worried about inconveniencing the knights.

If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve summoned Belle whenever I needed to sort things out.

It’s too late for regrets now.

The sound of cooking echoed through the air.

The knife hitting the cutting board was more refined than I remembered, evidence of countless hours of practice.

The Cook, still smiling, continued her work.

Yet her smile tightened the chains around my heart with every glance.

"I, uh…"

Feeling like I couldn’t bear the oppressive silence any longer, I tried to speak.

"Wait."

The Cook interrupted me firmly.

"Let’s talk after the meal is ready."

She turned to face me.

"I want to put only love into the food."

Clearing my throat awkwardly, I nodded, unable to argue with her reasoning.

How long did I sit there, enduring the thick, uncomfortable silence?

Finally, two dishes were placed before Belle and me.

Despite the feelings that must have gone into making it, the food before me was nothing short of perfect.

It was a unique rice ball wrapped in softly boiled cabbage leaves.

"Go ahead and try it."

Following her instructions, I picked up my spoon and hesitantly took a bite.

It was delicious.

"I’ve spent a long time researching what kind of food you might like. What ingredients satisfy you, what seasonings bring you joy—I’ve experimented with all of it. This dish is one of the results."

The Cook finally spoke.

Her words and the scene before me spoke volumes about the effort she had put in.

"…Was I being too selfish? All I wanted was to prepare meals for you, to see you smile as you enjoyed them. Maybe… I even hoped there might be something a little more special behind those feelings."

"…I…"

"No, don’t force yourself," the Cook interrupted gently. "I don’t want my jealousy, something I hadn’t even noticed creeping in, to burden you. I have no intention of forcing my desires on you, especially if it means seeing you struggle."

Had she already sorted through all her emotions in that brief moment?

With a sorrowful smile, she spoke, looking as though tears could fall at any second.

I glanced at Belle.

Unlike the Cook’s calm yet sorrowful demeanor, Belle’s expression was filled with unease, as if fearing the worst might happen. She kept glancing at me nervously, unsure of what to do.

Damn it, past me.

Is this the kind of mess you expected your future self to handle?

Had I come all this way to deal with her in such an irresponsible way?

"No, that’s not it. It’s not like that at all," I said, interrupting my own self-reproach and the Cook’s words.

Her face softened slightly, as though she felt some small relief.

"I’ve always been grateful to you. I’ve always appreciated you. And I’ve never disliked you."

"No, Tantan. Don’t force—"

I abruptly stood up, the chair scraping noisily behind me before toppling over with a loud crash.

Belle flinched at the sound, hunching her body and trembling.

"Fine, I’ll be honest with you," I said.

"…What?"

"I feel something similar to what you’re feeling for me. For all of you who have been helping me."

The words spilled out in a rush, as if breaking free from a dam I had built around them.

The Cook stared at me blankly, seemingly unable to process what I’d said. Slowly, her face turned red, her shoulders rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"W-What do you mean by that…?"

"But," I continued, sighing heavily, "I always felt you were all too good for me. That might be why I kept avoiding the issue."

I exhaled, sadness lacing my tone.

"Thank you for cooking for me. To think you prepared this meal with me in mind—I don’t know how to express how grateful I am. And to be honest, it’s exactly to my taste."

As my words reached her, the Cook’s face revealed suppressed emotions, her expression softening into something more genuine. At the same time, Belle’s tense expression melted into one of pure joy.

Perhaps Belle had been sad simply because the Cook looked sad.

After all, she was always sensitive to the emotions of those around her—just like a dog.

The Cook stepped out from behind her cooking station and hurried toward me.

Her expression was hard to read.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace.

I stood there quietly, accepting her actions.

The faint sound of her soft sobbing reached my ears, but I didn’t bring it up.

Eventually, she seemed to calm down and pulled back slightly to look up at me.

"…Did you mean what you said?"

"…Yes."

"…I’m glad. Then, the countless hours I spent refining my recipes weren’t meaningless."

Tears clung to the corners of her eyes as she smiled, and it reminded me of when Fiore had expressed her feelings to me. My heart ached at the thought.

At the same time, I was relieved that my simple words had been enough to ease her burdens.

The Cook blushed faintly.

"Then… would you…?"

What was making her so embarrassed?

She bit her lip slightly before steeling herself.

"…Would you… say it for me?"

She didn’t specify what she wanted me to say, but I understood.

Thinking about what had made her sad in the first place, there was no way I wouldn’t know.

I placed my hands gently on her shoulders.

Startled by the sudden contact, she trembled, glancing at my hands before meeting my eyes.

Her startled expression reflected just how much she had been silently enduring.

I gave her the warmest smile I could muster and softly spoke the word.

"Pawra."

And with that…

Her eyes widened, and tears began to flow uncontrollably.

But the smile that followed was so radiant, so full of happiness, that it seemed to light up the room.

"…Yes, Raydan."

No matter what might happen later, for now, I was grateful for this moment of peace.