Polenta refers to a food made from easily obtainable grains such as corn, barley, or chestnut, cooked to resemble porridge.
It’s designed to enhance its coarse texture, and while it may appear rough, its unique taste is quite appealing.
Being made from readily available ingredients, it’s a popular dish for the financially strained, offering hearty portions.
However, when prepared well, it can rival any gourmet food in taste, and it provides a satisfying fullness even in small amounts, making it suitable as emergency rations.
Moreover, it’s not just meant to be eaten as porridge; when you add more cornmeal or barley flour to firm it up, it becomes something akin to…
“A delicious rice cake!”
The characteristic chewy texture gives rise to delicious corn cakes.
With some cheese made from goat’s milk and a few herbs mixed in, it’s certainly not bland.
It was a substantial meal that could keep one full.
“That’s a great idea! Eating it like porridge is fine, but this way feels different and keeps my hands reaching for more!”
“I learned this while working part-time, I mean! At an inn. It’s so tasty when prepared this way that I often make it myself.”
“Really? I’ve never seen it made like this before. Do you mind sharing which inn it was? I’d love to visit and try it for myself.”
“Oh, it probably doesn’t exist anymore. It’s, well, from a long time ago.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, yes!”
…She’s lying.
If you’re going to tell a fib, at least put some effort into it.
“Whatever she did before possessing this body, it’s clear she wasn’t in any artsy or performance field.”
There’s no way she could act this poorly otherwise.
“She’s simply lacking in another sense.”
Is it because she’s a romance heroine?
Normally, characters in romance roles act all put-together while often being betrayed and their intelligence plummets—could she be one of those types too?
“Is she on par with the Maid?”
On one side, Leira was hastily trying to eat the rice cake and ended up choking, running around searching for water, desperately pouring it over her face from a bowl.
Can’t she just drink it normally? Does she have to do it this way?
…Still, at least it’s entertaining to watch, but as someone acquainted with her, it’s rather embarrassing to show her to others.
“Um, is that person okay?”
“Just ignore it.”
“Eh?”
“…I’m saying you don’t have to worry. She’s in perfect health.”
“…Ah, yes.”
Irene blinked, watching Leira with a look of curiosity, but upon sensing Lee Han’s gaze, she quickly lowered her head again.
She looked like a pitiful soul borrowing from a loan shark.
Seeing this made Lee Han think,
“Did I do something terrible to her?”
Her demeanor reminded him of a trembling little kitten, making him doubt whether he had done something wrong as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
* * *
It wouldn’t be courteous to just send away the neighbor who brought over Polenta, and since he wasn’t a stranger, Lee Han offered her tea and had her sit for a bit.
What’s more, Irene didn’t reject the offer nor show any sign of distaste.
Unexpectedly, she sat down as though she had been waiting and, while sipping tea, had almost completely eaten the Polenta she had brought.
She seems to adapt well.
But is it just me,
“Something feels suspicious.”
Honestly, it feels a bit off when she’s this devoid of caution.
I mean, think about it.
There’s no connection between her and Lee Han.
Even though Lee Han had to investigate Irene Windler as an individual, that was something only he and Isis knew.
But now, this surveillance target number two has suddenly moved into the house next door.
…Surely, the house that was empty just the day before suddenly being moved into is suspicious enough.
As suspicion arose, Lee Han took a quiet breath.
“Irene, can I ask you a personal question? I hope you don’t mind.”
He decided to poke a little.
“Uh, yes?”
“I’ll take that as you giving me permission. Why are you in such a remote area? As a student, you could be at the dormitory or even at one of the mansions belonging to the Galahad family. From what I know, the Galahad family owns about 70% of the buildings around the academy.”
“…….”
“I apologize if that was an awkward question.”
“Oh, no, it’s a perfectly reasonable question…”
Irene, who said it was okay but didn’t look too bright, made Lee Han focus more intently on her, wondering if there was some backstory.
Was it possible she faced some kind of trouble?
Or perhaps, was she kicked out of the dormitory due to being a commoner…?
“-I didn’t know there was a deadline for applying to the dormitory, and by the time I found out, it was already over. I chose not to stay at the Galahad mansion since it felt too much of a burden. Honestly, I don’t want to be nearby with that guy’s taste in food.”
“…?”
“I mean, that guy is seriously weird! Every time I look into his eyes, I get chills! He looks like a girl, but the way he talks and acts is so creepy! I honestly don’t want to get close! So, I turned down every offer I got, I want to avoid any unnecessary entanglements, and… oh.”
“…….”
“Could you pretend you didn’t hear that… please?”
“…Of course.”
“……Thank you.”
It seemed she had a lot to unpack.
It looks like there’s significant resentment toward the duke.
“I see, I see—there’s a reasonable reason behind it all.”
Some might question whether there’s any truth to all of this, but Lee Han was confident this was neither a lie nor acting.
The reason?
Because the sound of her heartbeat told him so.
A precise auditory sensing that captures the rhythm of her heart more accurately than a stethoscope.
He willingly trusted this ability, which even Isis admired.
‘-She’s clumsy but honest.’
As he continued their rather awkward conversation, Lee Han gauged what kind of person Irene Windler was.
She had her clumsy and lacking aspects, but that’s a common symptom seen in young folks in their teens and twenties.
It’s a shortcoming born from limited experience and shallow relationships.
He wasn’t blaming Irene; he was simply stating the obvious.
Sure, she had some issues with being overly blunt, but that’s a mental quirk one might expect from a spellcaster.
And at this level,
‘She’s surprisingly normal for a spellcaster.’
Considering that 90% of spellcasters are psychopaths, that doesn’t seem too odd at all.
Though Lee Han harbored a rather biased view of magicians, he didn’t particularly think he was wrong.
In fact, 90% of the magicians he’d encountered were indeed psychopaths.
Though they all met their ends at his hands.
“Uh, what!? Why am I suddenly feeling chills…?”
“Is the cabin cold? I hope you can understand. There’s still quite a bit left to fix.”
“Oh, I’m fine. More importantly, Instructor, I look forward to getting along well since we’ll be living so close to each other.”
“…Likewise, Irene Windler.”
The first friendly gesture extended was a hand. For Lee Han, shaking hands with a spellcaster was limited to situations where he’d crush their hands with a hammer or set them on fire with a torch, so extending his hand normally felt strangely unfamiliar.
Why did holding a woman’s hand feel like this?
You can’t differentiate between genders when it comes to spellcasters.
Just think about how troublesome they can be.
In fact, the mere fact that she’s a magician already reduces her feminine charm. Furthermore, considering she might be the mad duke’s adopted daughter or even his biological child, her allure diminishes even further, tipping into the negative.
Getting involved with her would probably just lead to trouble.
‘She has a good heart, at least…’
No matter how many positives you multiply with a negative, it won’t turn out to be positive.
…Above all,
‘…What sort of madman is her guardian? How many people has he stepped on?’
Given that her adoptive father is such a lunatic, the negatives are only piling up.
Tsk!
As he felt the increasing stealthy presence and smell around the cabin, he furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue.
There’s no homeowner welcoming hyenas that reek of blood and roam around.
Meanwhile, Irene Windler was growing tenser to the point of stiffening.
‘Did I make some mistake?’
[Irene, hang in there! You’ve got to win over the knight instructor somehow!]
‘…This is all your fault.’
Her incessant whining about moving near the knight instructor forced her to make the move.
Oh, but she didn’t lie.
It was true she couldn’t get into the dormitory and that she disliked that duke.
She was just unhappy that she couldn’t find a better place.
She wasn’t into cabins; she preferred a high-end inn where soundproofing was good and cleaning was taken care of.
Was it because he could sense this turmoil in her heart?
Although Irene showed a hint of apology,
[Sorry, but really, look at those muscles! Aren’t they sculpted? No! Not even a sculpture could compare to that!]
Her momentary guilt was just that—a fleeting moment. A pervert who unrestrainedly revealed his desires was right here.
‘…Disgusting.’
[Uhh, could I pretend it’s an accident and touch them just once? I really want to feel those muscles!]
‘…You’re seriously suggesting I throw my social reputation on the ground?’
[Muscles are more important than social reputation!]
‘……Shut up.’
Irene barely managed to suppress a sigh at the ghost’s maddening remarks that demanded outright curses.
Still, she couldn’t help but subtly glance at the body of her knight instructor.
He wore a short-sleeved shirt that was somewhat fitted around the chest, clearly outlining his physique.
The specter kept babbling about muscles, causing her gaze to drift unconsciously.
Confirming this, she thought,
‘Well, it’s certainly a feast for the eyes.’
Mutual understanding.
Being influenced by her friend for seven years, her tastes in food and clothes had become quite similar.
…Even her taste in men.
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