That night's dinner was, once again, astonishing.
On the table were dishes they had never seen before—
round flatbreads layered with rich sauce and melted cheese, topped with lightly charred ingredients. The aroma was bold yet never overwhelming.
Beside them sat a neatly arranged plate of long, golden strips, fried until crisp. A faint sheen of oil glimmered on the surface, but they looked anything but greasy.
Pizza.
French fries.
In addition, Megrie brought out three cups filled with a dark liquid, tiny bubbles constantly rising to the surface.
"This is a drink," she said casually. "It goes better with these."
Kai, Chino, and Aaron exchanged glances.
The first bite—
and the world seemed to tilt.
The pizza's crust was crisp on the outside and soft within, the cheese stretching in delicate strands, the sauce rich yet never heavy.
The fries cracked lightly between the teeth, crisp on the outside, fluffy inside, carrying a natural sweetness.
And the drink—cool and slightly bitter at first, then bursting into a lively fizz that swept through the mouth, refreshing enough to make one want another sip immediately.
"…What is this?"
Chino's eyes widened as he reached for yet another fry.
"So good it makes no sense," Aaron muttered, disbelief thick in his voice.
Kai did not speak right away. He took a slow sip of the drink, his gaze settling on Megrie—measured, probing, but not hostile.
This was not peasant food.
Nor was it a noble's banquet.
And it certainly did not resemble anything known in this world.
Midway through the meal, Megrie quietly gathered the empty red metal cans near the table. As she looked down at them, she knew very clearly—
These things could not remain in this world.
While the three men were distracted, she discreetly sent them back to the "modern kitchen." When she returned to the table, three pairs of eyes were already fixed on her.
Shock. Confusion. And one shared question—
Wasn't she the city lord's daughter?
How could she make food like this?
"Megrie."
Kai finally spoke, his voice calm but searching. "These dishes… aren't prepared in a way that belongs here."
Chino nodded.
"Yeah. This really isn't something an ordinary person would make."
Megrie didn't panic.
She had already prepared her answer.
She set her cup down gently, her tone as natural as if she were stating an everyday fact.
"Because I love food," she said.
All three froze.
"When I lived in the city lord's estate, the lord knew I enjoyed eating—and studying cooking," she continued unhurriedly. "So he hired many chefs for me."
"Some specialized in Western cuisine. Others came from distant regions."
She paused, then added, "There was even a chef from the East."
She picked up the chopsticks on the table and turned them lightly between her fingers.
"These utensils were taught to me by that Eastern chef."
Everything sounded perfectly reasonable.
A city lord's daughter.
Unusual interests.
Plenty of resources.
Chefs from all over the world brought in to teach her—
It all fit.
In truth, half of it was real.
In her modern life, she truly loved food. She had genuinely studied cuisines from around the world—Italian, American, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, even Southeast Asian dishes. She had cooked them herself, researched them deeply.
The other half of the truth, however, she had no intention of revealing.
That was her secret alone.
The three men fell silent for a moment.
Then, slowly, their doubts faded.
"…That explains it," Chino said at last, nodding in realization before lowering his head and continuing to eat.
Aaron took another sip of his drink and said quietly, "It wouldn't be strange for the city lord to go that far for you."
Kai did not ask any further questions.
But something had changed in his eyes.
Not suspicion—
but reassessment.
And Megrie, where they couldn't see, finally let out a quiet breath.
She knew this path would be long.
But at least for now—
she had secured her first foothold.
The lingering aroma of dinner still circled the kitchen, but the clock on the wall ticked on mercilessly.
Megrie stood up. The movement itself felt like a signal, instantly quieting the once-lively table.
"It's time for me to go," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of resignation.
Chino had been savoring the last fry when he heard her words. His hand froze midair. Looking at her slender figure, the sense of loss he had barely managed to suppress surged back up.
"…So soon," he muttered, his gaze flickering between the empty plates and Megrie. He wished the meal could have lasted longer—much longer.
Kai sat at the head of the table, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of the cup that had once held the fizzy drink. He was more restrained than Chino, but the emotion in his eyes was impossible to hide.
"You worked hard today," Kai said as he stood, his tone carrying a gentleness he himself hadn't noticed. "Tomorrow, I'll make sure the best ingredients are prepared."
It was the most direct form of attachment this normally reserved man could express.
Meanwhile, Aaron had already risen in silence, lifting the cloak hanging by the door with efficient movements that left no room for objection.
"Let's go," he said to Megrie, his gaze steady. "The horse is waiting outside."
Chino ground his teeth at Aaron's perfectly "natural" confidence.
"Aaron, you bastard… you're way too quick."
Aaron raised an eyebrow, his voice calm, tinged with a victor's composure.
"Protecting someone's safety is my duty."
They stepped outside, the cold night wind rushing toward them, yet unable to dispel the warmth left behind in the house.
Aaron helped Megrie onto the horse. This time, her movements were noticeably more confident. Sitting astride the saddle, she looked back at Kai and Chino standing in the doorway. Under the moonlight, their shadows stretched long and lonely.
"See you tomorrow," she said, waving.
The sound of hooves echoed once more along the stone road.
Then, without warning, Aaron swung himself onto the horse in one smooth, practiced motion.
He settled behind her, one hand holding the reins, the other loosely enclosing her within his presence.
"…Aaron?"
Megrie stiffened slightly, feeling the warmth behind her.
"It's more stable this way," Aaron's voice came from above her, low and husky, especially compelling in the quiet night.
What he didn't say was that ever since hearing she had been mistreated at the market, he no longer wanted her to walk alone in the dark—even if it was only for a short distance.
The two of them rode on in silence, the rhythm of their heartbeats syncing with the cadence of the horse's steps, growing faster with every beat.