Previously Unpublished Extra Story — Biffe

(How... did it come to this?)

In a corner of a run-down inn, situated in a relatively lawless district in the Kingdom of Orstoll, was an individual who used to be Princess Fie’s head chef. Now Biffe was working as a janitor in said run-down inn and holding his head in exasperation.

Biffe had thought that everything would somehow work out once he arrived in Orstoll.

It was said to be the capital of culinary arts, and famous chefs from various countries gathered there. If he trained under one famous chef or another in Orstoll, and then returned to Daeman to open a shop of his own, he would surely have a bright future ahead of him.

Although that was supposed to be the case, Biffe was currently holding documentation detailing his dismissal as an intern from a certain establishment in the capital after having worked there for a month.

As an intern, he had peeled potatoes and carrots every day, until he was finally called by the assistant head chef on his last day.

Those gathered there were other interns who had been taken on at around the same time, under similar circumstances — there were simply many hopefuls working at Orstoll’s restaurants.

The assistant head chef had this to say: “Make a meal with these ingredients that you see before you.”

Biffe was somewhat shocked. After all, he had learned absolutely nothing with regards to cooking from his seniors at all.

However, he calmed himself down with some effort. He had originally started working in Daeman simply because of his connections — but to his credit, Biffe was self-taught and could cook to a certain extent. In that, he had faith in himself.

At least — that was what he thought. As soon as his peers started cooking, Biffe found himself turning pale.

The other interns, despite being interns, began preparing the ingredients with visible skill. With flowing movements of the knife, vegetables were sliced and fried, sauce was made, meat was roasted, and the ingredients were perfectly sautéed.

Amongst them, there were even some who blended Orstoll’s traditional culinary techniques with their own. Upon seeing this, the assistant head chef had nothing but praise for those particular youths.

Every other intern who had signed up at around the same time as Biffe was better at cooking than he was — in fact, these individuals vastly outstripped the culinary prowess of the cooks who worked at the royal castle of Daeman.

Panicked, Biffe spent a considerable amount of time looking around, unaware that the assistant head chef’s eyes were now locked upon him.

“What are you doing, exactly?” With a doubtful and somewhat apprehensive look, the assistant head chef peered into Biffe’s frying pan.

As opposed to the works of those around him, Biffe’s ingredients simply lay limply in the pan. In fact, so paltry was his performance, that one would be hard-pressed to call Biffe’s creation “food” of any sort.

The assistant head chef’s face began to become sterner by the minute.

“Did you really think you could work at Orstoll with this amount of skill? Someone like you has no right to be in the kitchens of this great country. Get out of my kitchen this instant!”

In a single moment, Biffe was exposed, and summarily fired.

It was then that Biffe finally understood the exacting standards expected of Orstoll’s culinarians. Even those who had started at the intern level had levels of skill that rivaled a typical restaurant chef in Daeman.

Although Biffe had gone on several rounds to various restaurants after this incident in search of gainful employment, information moved quickly in Orstoll. Biffe was rejected at each and every turn, and eventually his heart, much like his resolve, cleanly snapped in two.

Eventually Biffe, who was unable to find a new employer, used up the money that he had brought from Daeman, as well as the severance issued to him from Princess Fie’s accounts. With no other choice, Biffe had to work as a janitor in a run-down inn in an ill-kept corner of the capital.

Today, much like other days, saw Biffe cleaning a mostly unoccupied inn. After receiving a negligibly small sum as payment, Biffe sighed, stepping out of the building he had been cleaning.

“How did it come to this...?” There was nothing in Biffe’s voice other than regret. “If I had known it would be like this, I would have continued working for Princess Fie instead...”

Thinking back on it, Biffe now realized how fortunate he had been.

He did not have to sleep in a shabby hut at night, battered by crosswinds, and his bed actually had sheets on it. In addition, he was also paid on time, and was able to cook to a certain extent, even if he wasn’t very good at it. Although he had purposely made her meals badly, Princess Fie had never once raised her voice against him.

Biffe finally realized how fortunate he had been to be in said position — and although he had wanted to turn back time, such a thing was impossible.

In fact, his current tiny hut, much like the run-down inn it was attached to, had three other occupants in addition to himself.

“Hey Biffe. Again with the pathetic face, eh?”

The man who had called out to Biffe had a particularly rough look about him. He was called Giarmo — a hooligan and gangster who terrorized the district with his subordinates.

“M-Mister Giarmo...”

“Right, it’s time to pay today’s interest. Out with it!”

“B-But I need this to live...”

“Hey, you should return money you owe, right? Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly decided to not pay, eh?”

“N-No... Nothing like that at all... H-Here you go...”

The tiny sum he had received as pay mere moments ago was thus taken away from him by Giarmo.

Living in the city had taken a toll on Biffe’s finances, and against his better judgment, he had borrowed money from Giarmo. Unfortunately, the interest rates of gangsters were never exactly fair. Biffe’s interest rose every day. There was no way he could pay it off by working as a janitor — and his debt simply continued to grow.

Placing Biffe’s hard-earned pay into his pouch, Giarmo shook it, a disgusted expression on his face.

“Oi Biffe. If you keep working at this trashy place, you ain’t gonna be able to pay us back, eh?”

That was the truth. As a janitor of a run-down inn, Biffe’s interest would only continue rising.

“If your debt keeps getting bigger, soon you won’t be able to pay the interest either. Even if I let you off, I have to answer to higher ups, see? I can’t go against what they say, see. If you still don’t clear your debts, they might just have you sleeping with the fishes, eh?”

Those words filled Biffe with fear.

“Even I don’t wanna do something like that, see. So Biffe... Here is where the good news comes in. I could find you... a job.”

It was plain from the way Giarmo said it that the job was illegal.

“If you take this job, you’ll be paid good. So good, you’ll be able to pay back your debt, eh? It’ll be at midnight, three days from now.”

Biffe, terrified and shaking, could not raise a single objection to Giarmo, who sneered at him before walking away.

“W-W-W-What am I going to do... How did it come to this...?”

Biffe started crying.

For those three days, Biffe could hardly do a single thing. The creeping deadline that Giarmo had imposed on him caused him to shake all day.

Finally, at the end of three days, Biffe stood before Giarmo, who, as usual, had two of his lackeys with him.

“Well then, it’s all on you now eh?”

A bundle of objects was handed to Biffe — amongst them were what appeared to be flammable planks, papers, and a yellow, wax-like clump. By pure coincidence, Biffe was able to recognize the wax-like clump.

It was a substance known as phosphorus, and it was highly flammable, although it also functioned well as fuel. For a time, high-class restaurants had considered adopting it for use over coal. However, phosphorus was apparently toxic to the human body, and its use was immediately outlawed — now classified as a dangerous substance.

He had used it in Daeman’s kitchens for about a month until the rumors had reached him, whereupon the kitchens had finally decided to stop using it.

Looking at the clump, Giarmo whispered into Biffe’s ear.

“You know how to use it, right? Just set this alight at the back of that store. That’s all you have to do.” Giarmo pointed at a restaurant facing a small footpath. “I’m not asking you to burn the place down, eh? Just a small fire to spread them rumors, see? It makes our jobs a lot easier, eh?”

Biffe started shivering.

In other words, Giarmo had wanted Biffe to commit arson — with the aim of helping him extend his sphere of influence in the district. Specifically, he wanted Biffe to help him intimidate this small restaurant.

Biffe thought that perhaps a small fire would have been all right, but with these materials on hand, there was no guarantee that the fire would be small, let alone controllable. In fact, there was a very high possibility that the entire shop could go up in flames, taking with it nearby homes and buildings.

“Uh, um...”

Biffe’s stammering objections were silenced by an overly-friendly pat to the shoulder by Giarmo.

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to do it. If you keep working as a janitor, your debt is only going to keep going up, eh? It may be fine for now, but if it keeps rising, you’ll eventually pay with your life, see? But if you do this, just a little fire to scare them silly, your debt is paid. Not only that, you get a bit extra too, eh? It’s not a bad deal, see? You win either way, see?”

Sneering, Giarmo whispered once more in Biffe’s ear.

“Didn’t you come to Orstoll to become a cook? But then you got fired by them foreigners, and they’ve gotten you into this mess, see. The target is the place that fired you to begin with. It’s a chance for revenge, see? Give those uppity Orstoll cooks a piece of your mind, eh?”

“...”

Giarmo’s words seemed to have struck a chord in Biffe. For a while he stood, silently. And then...

“I... I can’t do it.”

“Eh?”

“I c-can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t do something like this...” Biffe said, shaking his head as tears flowed freely from his eyes.

To set fire to someone’s home was an incredibly frightening thing. If he was found out, it would be a grave crime — and if anyone perished in the fire, he would be guilty of murder.

Although he was a failure of a cook and was haunted by his failures, Biffe fully understood how fearsome fire could be. It did not really matter if it was a small or big fire — fires spread. The slightest mistake could lead to the entire district being burned down. He was not prepared to do something like this — if anything, he was terrified.

Terrified for his safety, the consequences of his actions, the consequences for rejecting the task. All these thoughts flooded Biffe’s mind. However, he could only come to one conclusion — what Giarmo asked of him was very much impossible.

Once again, Biffe was filled with regret — regret that he had left the back pavilion and Princess Fie’s employ. In fact, someone like him, who had only become a chef due to his connections, should never have come to Orstoll in the first place.

Biffe, who had been sucked into a vortex of regret, was knocked back to reality by a rough pull on his collar. Opening his eyes ever so slightly, Biffe came face to face with Giarmo.

“What? What the hell do you mean you ‘can’t do it’ after coming all this way?”

Although Giarmo was the one who had told him to show up, rough coercion and intimidation were also part of his arsenal.

“N-No matter what you say, I can’t do it, I can’t...!” Biffe, with snot and tears flowing from his face, defied Giarmo’s orders while somehow looking even more pathetic than he had before.

“Then what will you do, eh! What about your debt? Are you not going to pay it back? Don’t take that attitude with me, see! Or I’ll gut you now and send you to the fishes, eh!” Saying so, Giarmo drew his knife, and upon seeing that, Biffe’s vision started swimming more intensely than ever.

“Eeeeeee! H-Help!” Biffe let out a scream from the bottom of his lungs, and then—

“Hiya!”

Distracted by the strange sound, Biffe barely saw someone descend from the roof from the corner of his eye.

They were of a small build, a boy, perhaps. Utilizing momentum and gravity, the youth latched onto one of Giarmo’s subordinates with their legs, sending him face-first into the ground.

With a crunching sound, the floored henchman was knocked out.

Giarmo’s other henchman, unable to grasp what had just happened, stood rooted to the spot.

Not letting this chance go, the youth drew what appeared to be a stretchable fabric from his pocket and promptly swung it at the other subordinate’s face. With a dull sound, he fell — the fabric was apparently weighted with a blunt object.

“Wha—?!”

Just as Giarmo had finally begun to move, the youth contracted his body, and then released all of the tension within it into a single kick to Giarmo’s midsection. Although his small build prevented him from knocking Giarmo out instantly, he succeeded in knocking him off-balance, causing the gangster to unceremoniously crash to the ground.

“W-What is it with you, eh? W-Wait! Sto-STOP! AUGHHHH!!”

Drawing another weighted flail from his waist, the youth did not waste any time in bringing his weapons to bear on Giarmo’s fallen body, pummeling him with a flail in each hand.

After a few seconds, Giarmo blacked out, his body sprawled on the ground.

(W-What is it... This boy...?)

Biffe could only stare blankly at his savior, finally realizing that he wore the uniform of one of Orstoll’s Royal Knights squires.

“Are you all right?”

The squire turned around.

(Huh...?)

Upon seeing the squire’s face, Biffe was shocked.

“Huh...?” The youth seemed surprised by Biffe’s appearance as well.

The youth had flowing blonde hair and blue eyes. Princess Fie, who was supposed to be in the back pavilion of the royal castle, was standing before him.

That was how Biffe and Fie ended up at a nearby restaurant, both individuals staring at each other.

Fie placed an order for hamburger steak and orange juice. Biffe, on the other hand, claimed to not have an appetite, and as such Fie had seen it fit to order a random drink for him.

Silently sipping on her juice, Fie observed her former head chef intently. He had slimmed down significantly ever since his days in the back pavilion. He did not seem at home or comfortable at all, fidgeting repeatedly in his chair.

“What were you doing there? Who were those people?”

Biffe had been surrounded, beaten up, and was carrying a dangerous substance. If anything, it would have made sense for Fie to simply turn him over to the city guards.

However, Fie was instead asking him how he had gotten involved with such individuals. Although she had been observing the entire incident from the rooftops, Fie showed no signs of blaming Biffe for his involvement with the gangsters.

Biffe opened his mouth, as if he was about to be ill.

“A-Actually... I borrowed some money from those people... and... to pay off my debt, they wanted me to assist them in their crimes...”

“Ahh... Why would you borrow money from people like that?”

Fie’s reaction was one of exasperation and disbelief. She had a right to feel that way — after all, the gangsters themselves evidently looked like they were trouble. In fact, Fie felt that it was common sense to assume that one would be seeking trouble by taking loans from such individuals.

“I’m such a fool...” Biffe slumped over, suddenly looking very small in his seat. “Also, I was wondering, Princess Fie... Why are you dressed like that...?”

Eager to move the conversation away from himself, Biffe tried to change the subject to Fie’s state of being instead. Now having the time to take a good, long look at his benefactor, he realized that the Princess had cut her hair, and her clothes were undoubtedly those of the Orstoll Royal Knights.

Upon closer inspection, she was even carrying a sword — in addition to a variety of other weapons. Biffe shuddered, remembering the violence that she had inflicted upon the gangsters mere moments ago, although she had not drawn her sword on them.

Biffe could not quite wrap his head around why royalty like Princess Fie would be dressed in such a fashion — or better yet, what she was doing here in the first place.

Upon hearing his query, Fie proudly grasped her sleeve, before happily displaying the crest of the Royal Knights on her uniform.

“Oh, that? I became a squire. Do you know of the 18th Knights?”

“Y-Yes...”

Even Biffe had heard rumors of the 18th Knights. They were led by a mysterious masked knight, and its members were made up of only the best in Orstoll.

“And I’m that platoon’s squire, you see?”

Biffe could not believe what he was hearing. It was unthinkable for a princess to be accepted into an elite military unit. Yet she did not seem to be lying at all — her uniform and tone of voice were very much the real thing.

However, Fie’s innocent smile soon gave way to a rapidly narrowing stare, her blue eyes boring into Biffe.

“Also, the fact that I am a princess is a national secret. You cannot tell anyone about this. I’ve been using ‘Heath’ as a name. You may not know this, but the 18th Knights are under direct command of the King himself. It was the King who chose to take me on as a squire, so if you tell anyone about this, it would be high treason.”

Biffe could clearly see the glinting daggers in her eyes — and somehow, they were even more frightening than the threats Giarmo had been leveling upon him. Biffe nodded immediately.

Although Fie had been reasonably pleasant to Biffe, she had made sure to be threatening as well.

“Oh? So you understand. Good.”

Biffe, still pale from his earlier encounters, continued nodding. Fie, on the other hand, licked her lips and proceeded to enjoy her hamburger steak with a satisfied expression, fork and knife in hand.

Fie would eventually invite Biffe to restaurants in Orstoll for a grand total of three times.

During their first outing, she was simply genuinely curious about Biffe’s circumstances.

On their second visit to a restaurant, Fie made it a point to threaten Biffe with high treason once more — for good measure, perhaps. After all, she had worked so hard to maintain her current life as a squire. It would be most unbecoming if Biffe somehow ruined it.

Although Fie had mentioned that the 18th Knights were under direct command of the King, and that she had been chosen by the King himself, Biffe had no way of ascertaining if that was the truth or not. This was why Fie made it a point for her lie to seem like it was important, and thus, seal Biffe’s lips on the matter. As far as Biffe’s reactions went, Fie’s plan seemed to have worked well.

And as for the third visit —

Fie was simply hungry.

Orstoll’s restaurants were all known for their high standards, and Fie thought that the hamburger steak at this restaurant in particular tasted very good indeed. She was satisfied.

After finishing her meal, Fie burped, before staring at Biffe, who was seated opposite to her. As usual, Biffe looked completely miserable.

“Oh yeah... what happened to your cooking job again? And why did you borrow money anyway? I paid you quite well with your severance package, didn’t I? Was that still not enough?”

Biffe seemed to withdraw as Fie craned her neck, curious to hear his response.

It was true that Princess Fie had given him a very generous severance package. In fact, thinking about the attitude he had taken back at the pavilion, it was perhaps fair to say that the package was unreasonably generous.

However, Biffe had wasted his money on foolish pursuits, drunken with the thoughts of having finally “made it” in the capital. As such, his severance package was all but used up within a month. He was then fired from his intern position, and had all his janitor pay stolen by Giarmo.

In contrast, Fie, who had been shut away in the back pavilion, seemed equally hopeless — and yet she was now a squire in the Royal Knights, hand-picked by the King himself.

The contrast between their existences was too much for Biffe. He was too embarrassed to even speak.

However, Fie’s intense gaze did not shift from him at all, and Biffe eventually found himself telling her everything that had happened. If anything, Biffe wished that the Princess would take pity on him, and perhaps even help him.

Although Fie was faced with overwhelming hardship, she had still managed to get herself out of it. Surely she would see fit to assist him — at least, that was what Biffe hoped.

Having heard the entire story, Fie turned to face Biffe. She looked like she had predicted the entire story from the beginning, and sighed.

“To be frank, I thought it was something like that,” Fie said, chewing down on her sauce-covered hamburger and crunching the fresh vegetables between her teeth.

Fie’s statement was particularly painful for Biffe to hear.

“But then, doesn’t this mean everything worked out? Those gangsters have been arrested, and they won’t be harassing you anymore. Why not pursue your dream of becoming a chef once more?”

Biffe, however, lowered his head upon hearing those words. Perhaps it was because he already knew in his heart that it was naive to expect help from the Princess. Although the gangsters harassing him had been arrested, he wasn’t exactly free from his debt.

“It’s true that the person who lent me the money was Giarmo, but he has to answer to his higher-ups too. They’re terrible gangsters who harass this entire district... If you go against them, really bad things will happen to you. That’s why I can’t go back to being a cook...”

Fie, however, only gave Biffe a cursory glance, despite how sad and defeated he sounded — and Biffe realized that Fie probably would not help him after all.

Biffe’s intentions were for Fie to somehow pay off his debt, and then once again hire him to work at the back pavilion. However, Biffe himself knew that this was an unreasonable request.

Biffe’s thought process was suddenly interrupted by Fie, who had stuck her fork out towards him without warning.

“Then... all we have to do is the arrest those higher-ups, right?”

“H-Huh?”

“As I said. If I arrest the higher-ups that hold your debt, your debt would be cleared right away, yes?”

“Well... Th-That’s true, but...”

Although that was the truth, the higher-ups in question were infinitely more terrifying than Giarmo — as were their subordinates, both in strength and numbers.

Although Fie had beaten three gangsters on her own, Biffe could not imagine a way for her to take down an entire gang.

Fie however, did not seem to be bothered by the notion, cleanly finishing everything on her hamburger plate, all the while completely ignoring Biffe’s anxious protests.

“Well then. Bring me to their leader,” Fie said, as she stood up from her seat.

About ten minutes later, Fie and Biffe found themselves a short distance away from a large three-story building.

“That’s the place Giarmo and his boss are hiding in. They have many guards... And hand out loans with incredibly high interest rates. They commit crimes without a care in the world... Recently, they have even started smuggling illegal pharmaceuticals...”

“I see.”

A few rough-looking individuals, much like Giarmo, entered and exited the building. There were many times more gangsters here than were in Giarmo’s small group.

After observing the building for a short amount of time, Fie promptly turned around, walking away.

“W-What is it...?” Biffe thought that the sheer numbers involved had made her give up.

Fie offered a casual answer to Biffe’s panicked question.

“I’m reporting them.”

“R-Reporting?!”

The surprised Biffe could not make any sense of Fie’s attitude — she had responded like it was a given that these criminals should be reported to the authorities, all the while wearing an exasperated expression.

“From what you’ve told me, these people are not exactly perfect at their crimes. In fact, it’s stranger to me that they have not been reported for their crimes until now.”

“W-Well, that is...”

There were many reasons for Biffe being unable to report these men to the authorities, such as him being afraid of Giarmo, amongst other things. Biffe was worried that had he said anything about them, the authorities would simply ignore him, and then the gangsters would surely exact their vengeance upon him.

Fie, however, began taking one step after another.

And so, after 30 minutes, the building was surrounded by a platoon of knights, armed with a search warrant. The knights quickly stormed the building, arresting the criminals as they went.

“You did well, reporting this to us.”

“Yes, sir!”

The commanding knight at the scene praised Fie for her actions, and she returned the compliment with a salute of her own.

The local residents had been afraid of the gangsters and hence did not report them to the authorities, but a simple search of the premises turned up more than enough proof of their wrongdoing.

The gangsters were used to being unopposed, and did not bother hiding the evidence of their crimes at all. In fact, said evidence was scattered everywhere in the building.

From this investigation, it was revealed that the knights had an agreement with the gangsters in the time of the previous king, and this had led to the local residents no longer trusting the Royal Knights. Those knights, in turn, were summarily fired after King Roy took the throne, reforming the Royal Knights in the process.

And this was how the problem plaguing Biffe’s district was suddenly solved.

Having done her job, Princess Fie wore a satisfied smile on her face as she walked back to where Biffe was standing.

“With this, the problem is solved. You can go back to working as a cook again!”

Although Fie had announced the good news with a smile, Biffe’s reaction to it was underwhelming at best.

“W-Well... about that...”

“What is it? Is there still a problem?”

Although it was indeed true that all obstacles to Biffe working as a cook once more were removed, Biffe himself did not feel that way.

“It’s impossible for someone like me to be a cook... I finally realized it, after coming to the capital... I don’t have any talent. In fact, I know so little, I can’t even compete with those who are around my age. My cooking techniques were largely self-taught — not like the rest. I’m not even at their level. I was a fool to think that I could become a chef... Especially in a place as wonderful as Orstoll. I never had a chance in the first place... No matter how I think about it, it’s impossible... I understand now.”

Biffe had finally realized it — although he was still reeling from the shock of being fired and did not understand at first, he had eventually noticed it over time: the fact that his talents, diligence, and knowledge were all lacking compared to the other candidates around him. He did not have a single advantage.

Upon noticing that, Biffe’s heart sunk, and broke. He was now just a fool who did not know the extent of his own abilities — a fool who held an impossible dream, and had been punished for it.

Even if his debts were cleared, Biffe’s life would not change one bit. He would live hand-to-mouth in Orstoll doing one odd job or another, never able to fulfill his dreams of becoming a chef.

It had suddenly occurred to Biffe that his life was, in fact, pathetic.

“Um... Princess Fie... if you could find it in your heart to do so, please hire me to work at the back pavilion again...”

Biffe had known of the difficulties of city life ever since he had lost his job — especially the high costs of living and other financial hurdles.

This was why Biffe, in spite of his own shame and regret, posed the question to Fie.

Upon raising his head, however, he found that Princess Fie was gone. She had apparently left without saying even a single word to him.

(Of course she left...)

For a moment, Biffe was exasperated by his own shamelessness.

Although Princess Fie had been trapped in the back pavilion, she had found a way out for herself, and now was working hard as a squire. Biffe, in contrast, had no talents or desire to fight on. It would seem like Biffe was doomed to live in the dregs of society.

It finally occurred to Biffe that these circumstances would not change, no matter how much time had passed.

And so he sighed, slowly walking back to his rented hut.

About two days after this incident, however, a series of knocks interrupted Biffe’s thoughts as he sat in his run-down hut.

“Y-Yes?”

For a moment, Biffe thought that Giarmo and his subordinates had broken free, and were waiting for him outside that door. However, his visitor was instead none other than Princess Fie.

“P-Princess Fie! Why are you here...!?” Biffe did not recall giving her his address.

“I asked some of the locals, and they told me, so here I am,” Princess Fie said, and handed Biffe what appeared to be a pamphlet of sorts.

Written on the pamphlet in big letters were the words “Orstoll School of Culinary Arts.”

However, that was not all — Princess Fie handed him another bundle of documents, one of which was a letter of acceptance from the school, with Biffe’s name written on it. The other was a writ of lease for an apartment near the school — and both appeared to have been fully paid for.

“Th-This is...” Unable to speak, Biffe could only gape as Fie cast her exasperated gaze upon him once more.

“So you’ve finally come to the capital, you’ve learned the reason for your failures, and that’s great and all, but you can’t remain like this forever, right? If you’re bad at cooking, then study! Study to be better. If you don’t have any knowledge of cooking, then learn! If you work hard at that school, it may not be too late for you yet. I’ve already paid all the fees off for you, so just try again, one more time.”

After the incident, Fie had snuck into the back pavilion, grabbed something that seemed to be princess-like and hence worth money, pawned it, and paid off Biffe’s fees and expenses with the proceeds. In addition, she had also personally showed up at the school, registered for a course under Biffe’s name, and finished the registration process.

That particular school was apparently known for offering various levels of guidance to its students, even if they had no experience whatsoever in cooking. The school also had a positive reputation amongst the culinary scenes of Orstoll — its graduating students did not have difficulty finding work. In fact, even someone as hopeless as Biffe could reach greater heights at this institution.

“...”

Biffe could only open his eyes wide and stare at the pamphlet. He could not believe it — to think that Princess Fie would go so far for someone like him.

Thinking back on what he had done, Biffe thought that it would be more natural for the Princess to completely abandon him — after all, Fie’s reputation in Daeman was particularly bad. She was supposedly worse-off in every way compared to her sister, Fielle.

This was why Biffe had seen it fit to mistreat her as well, under the assumption that an individual of bad reputation probably possessed bad character. He had hoped that she would randomly fire him, hence allowing him to pursue his dreams in Orstoll.

However, after meeting her in person, Biffe had been surprised — she was nothing like what the rumors had painted her to be. Instead of changing his attitude, however, he had continued to serve her cold soup — and was generally terrible to the Princess.

Even so, she had given him a proper sum when he had deigned to resign, in the form of a severance package which he foolishly spent, before running his life into the gutter and deciding that everything was over for him. In the midst of all this, a mere coincidence had saved him — honestly, Princess Fie should have been reprimanding him for his actions.

However, the Princess did not abandon him, instead offering Biffe a new chance after thinking about his life on his behalf.

Biffe finally realized — the Princess before his eyes was not worse off than Princess Fielle at all. She had a gentle heart — perhaps more so than anyone he had ever met. And thus Biffe finally understood.

Slowly, tears fell from his eyes. And with his face contorted in a mixture of gratitude and sorrow, Biffe wept.

“Thank you so much... I’ll do my best... This time for sure, I’ll give it everything I’ve got...!”

In between sobs, Biffe thanked Fie again and again, hugging the pamphlet close to his chest as if it were some sort of treasure. Watching over him, Fie smiled — ever so slightly.

And so it came to be that Biffe stood before the gates of the Orstoll School of Culinary Arts, two weeks after receiving the pamphlet from Fie.

The shining, eager faces of people from all walks of life — young or old, aristocratic or otherwise, all passed under its ornate, historic gates.

Biffe was reminded of how he had looked when he had aspired to come to the capital. However, he had been a fool, not working an ounce for his dreams, and he had miserably failed. Now, he had a second chance. Biffe tried to remember how he had felt when he had first aspired to become a good cook.

With a slightly nervous expression, Biffe joined the stream of students, passing under those same gates. His eyes, much like those of his fellow students, sparkled with renewed purpose.

In this institute, Biffe would do everything to pursue his dreams — to be exact, he would work hard, graduate, become a famous chef, and serve Princess Fie the delicious, warm soup she deserved.