[V8C9] Good Kid Who Eats Everything vs. Picky Eaters

Donning an apron, Monica rolled up her sleeves and took a deep breath. She had the job of heating up the stew and bread before Isaac’s return.

Isaac had performed a significant portion of the dinner preparations before the water dragon request, and upon returning home, he had all but finished cooking the stew while simultaneously preparing drinks for Claudia and Monica. This was truly remarkable efficiency.

Captivated by the appetizing aroma wafting from the pot, Monica began absent-mindedly stirring the contents.

“Monica.”

She turned around at the mention of her name to see Cyril standing at the kitchen entrance, awkwardly observing her movements.

The man who usually behaved with such confidence seemed downcast and gloomy today. His terribly fatigued face was pointed directly at Monica’s hands, apparently concerned about the injury on her right hand.

“Has your right hand recovered?”

During the incident on the snowy mountain, Monica had injured her hand gripping the thorns of a rose vine. Switching the ladle to her left hand, Monica opened her right hand to show Cyril.

“I’m fine. Um, the medicine Melissa-oneesan gave me works really well… See, it’s already faded this much.”

Cyril, looking somewhat relieved, entered the kitchen and stood next to Monica, rolling up his sleeves.

“Let me help you.”

“N-No way, Cyril-sama, you’re our guest.”

Monica declined Cyril’s offer and continued to stir the stew. However, Cyril responded in a slightly awkward tone.

“I know how rude it is to say this as a guest, but…”

“…?”

“You will likely crush the vegetables stirring like that.”

“Eh!?”

Upon closer inspection, indeed, Monica’s forceful stirring with the ladle had caused some parts of the turnips and carrots to become mushy and scattered.

As Monica grew flustered at this realization, Cyril swiped the ladle from her hands and gently scooped up from the bottom of the pot, rather than stirring vigorously as Monica had done.

“Cyril-sama, you’re really good at this…”

“I helped my mother a bit when I was a child.”

Monica almost let out a, “Huh?” for a moment, but she quickly remembered that Cyril was adopted. In her eyes, Cyril Ashley was always considered the son of Marquis Highown, so she occasionally forgot that he was not actually Claudia’s biological brother.

(That must be from before he was adopted by Marquis Highown…)

While watching Cyril stir the pot, Monica found herself wondering what Cyril was like in his childhood. Probably a diligent and well-behaved child who actively helped his mother with chores.

(Was the past Cyril-sama any different?)

Perhaps Cyril’s confident and formal manner of speaking originated in his childhood. Marquis Highown never spoke that way, so Monica thought that it came from his biological father.

As Monica was imagining a young Cyril, the current one glanced at the oven.

“We should be able to stop the oven now. The residual heat should be sufficient for warming the bread.”

“…!”

Cyril had also mastered the use of residual heat, earning Monica’s admiration. To her, residual heat was an advanced culinary technique.

＊　＊　＊

Isaac said nothing upon seeing that about half of the vegetables in the stew were crushed. Instead, he voiced a simple question.

“Hey Cyril, do you happen to like carrots?”

Cyril responded with the liveliest voice he had shown all day.

“Yes! I love them!”

“Good to know.”

Isaac quickly dished out the stew, making sure to give Cyril a portion with plenty of carrots.

“Your Highness… Thank you so much for going out of your way to match my tastes.”

Cyril almost began tearing up in emotion. This exchange somehow felt nostalgic.

Meanwhile, Thule and Pikeh, in their weasel forms, were devouring the stew’s meat at Cyril’s feet. Both of them seemed to find the meat too hot, as they cutely blew air through their noses to cool it down.

While tearing off a piece of bread that was just the right temperature, Monica let out a soft mutter.

“This might be the first time the three of us have eaten together.”

During their time at Serendia Academy, the three of them had almost daily meetings in the student council room. However, aside from occasional tea breaks, they rarely shared any meals.

Isaac nodded in agreement.

“True. I mostly had my meals in the dorm room… By the way, Cyril, did you use the dining hall?”

“Yes. I usually prefer eating alone, but sometimes I would have meals while discussing matters with Elliott or Neil.”

Cyril lowered his eyes, seemingly reminiscing about the past, until his face twisted into a frown.

“But that Elliott would constantly shove the things he hated onto my plate… Be it pickled turnips, anything with bean paste, meat with bones, the list goes on… He was quite the picky eater.”

It seemed that the Student Council Secretary Elliott Howard had a considerable list of food preferences. Monica could picture him smirking while saying, “Here, you can have this.”

“And that Glenn Dudley did it sometimes too. He would say something about me needing to eat more meat, then place a stack of it on my plate without asking… Not to mention how he secretly hid some carrots underneath, since he hated them. What children, honestly. They could learn a thing or two from you, Your Highness…”

“Cyril, the stew is getting cold.”

“My apologies for going on a rant during a meal.”

Cyril straightened up and began eating the portion of stew generously loaded with carrots.

Suddenly, Monica asked about something that had been on her mind.

“Cyril-sama, did you also get a delivery of Raul-sama’s carrots?”

“Hmm? Oh, now that you mention it, we did receive a large shipment of carrots a short while ago. I distributed them to the servants, and they were very pleased.”

Monica thought she heard a mumbled “Why didn’t I think of that?” from Isaac’s direction, but perhaps she was hearing things. She turned toward Isaac to see him smiling and asking Cyril about the stew.

“Cyril, did you enjoy the stew?”

“Yes, it was delicious!”

“Good to hear. We also have some cake for dessert. Please help yourself, no need to hold back.”

After saying this, Isaac elegantly finished his portion of the stew, which had noticeably fewer carrots.

＊　＊　＊

After the meal, Cyril offered to help with the cleanup, but Isaac firmly declined.

“No can do. What you need right now is rest. Regarding the Key of Knowledge issue, we can figure out a solution tomorrow.”

“But…”

Cyril glanced at the box on the table and furrowed his brows.

Ancient artifacts were literally irreplaceable, akin to national treasures. Cyril had been constantly wearing the artifact on his finger, so he likely felt uneasy without it.

As a result, he was subjected to the Key of Knowledge’s unending stream of insults. It was not hard to imagine why he suffered from sleep deprivation.

“I’ll take full responsibility for the Key of Knowledge. Or do you not trust me enough for that?” Isaac asked.

“T-That could not be further from the truth..!”

Cyril immediately shook his head with the blood drained from his face.

“Oh, and by the way,” Isaac added, pointing to the bag Cyril was holding. “Do you mind if I take a look at the contents of your bag?”

Cyril opened the bag at Isaac’s instruction. It contained a change of clothes and some seemingly work-related documents, as well as a few books.

Isaac removed the documents and books, then stacked them on the table.

“Um, Your Highness…?”

“I’ll be holding onto these until morning.”

“At least let me keep the books regarding the old library laws… The Key of Knowledge won’t acknowledge me unless I memorize all of them.”

Isaac picked up a book describing the old library laws and began flipping through it, putting on a cold smile.

“The old library laws, huh. Abolished seventy-three years ago. There were many redundant clauses and a striking lack of categorization. I don’t see the need for anyone to memorize them. We can simply look them up if we ever need a reference.”

“But I need to memorize them… or I won’t be as good as Claudia…”

Isaac responded with a gentle reprimand. His voice was not loud nor forceful, but it strangely resonated in the listener’s heart.

“Cyril. I did not make you my Vice President because you’re a member of the Lineage of Knowledge. It’s because I highly value your reports, which organize vast amounts of information and present it in an easy-to-understand manner. I want a vice-officer, not a librarian.”

Indeed, Cyril had always been skilled at summarizing information.

Monica tended to create excessively detailed reports due to her perfectionist nature, but Cyril could read through all those documents, pick out and organize the necessary information, then create a comprehensible report.

Even now, during their joint research, Monica often experienced this firsthand.

(Come to think of it, Glenn-san praised the handover documents Cyril-sama made for the student council…)

The handover documents had been concise and easy to understand, perfectly tailored for Glenn, who often struggled with detailed explanations. He could often be heard saying, “The Vice President is amazing!”

When it came to knowledge or memorization, Cyril was no match for Claudia, a woman often praised as a walking library. Nevertheless, Isaac accurately understood and appreciated Cyril’s unique abilities.

“Did Marquis Highown tell you to be more like Claudia?”

“No…! Nothing of the sort…”

Cyril vigorously shook his head, causing his silver hair to sway back and forth. Seeing this, Isaac put on a gentle smile and continued with confidence.

“Marquis Highown chose a successor, and that is you, Cyril Ashley. If nothing else, won’t you believe in the eyes of your adoptive father and myself?”

“…!”

Cyril was at a loss for words, seemingly on the verge of tears. Only after offering Isaac a deep bow did he finally open his mouth.

“…Please excuse me, I will go to bed early tonight.”

“Sure, good night. Take your time and rest up.”

“I will.”

Cyril rose from the sofa, then called to Thule and Pikeh. The two weasels hopped onto Cyril’s shoulders with a lively bounce.

Monica, who had been unable to break into the conversation, hurriedly called out to his back.

“Oh, um, Cyril-sama… G-Good night!”

Cyril paused and turned around, replying, “Good night to you too.”

Though his face still showed signs of weariness, he wore a serene expression, as if the burden on his shoulders had lightened a bit. Monica let out a sigh of relief.

Once Cyril and the weasels left the room, Isaac took a seat across from Monica and picked up the small box wrapped in cloth.

“Ike?”

Isaac simply smiled back at Monica instead of responding. Then, he picked up Sophocles out of the box, and brought him to eye level.

“I think we need to have a little chat, Sophocles.”

The smile directed at the ring was much different from the one Isaac had given Monica. Though retaining its handsomeness and elegance, his smile had twisted into a callous smirk.

~Stories from Serendia Academy~

“Hey Cyril, you can have this.” (Shoves a bunch of peas on his plate)

“Stop putting your food on other people’s plates, Elliott Howard!”

“I’m a gourmet, you see. I need to carefully scrutinize anything entering my mouth.”

“No, you are simply a picky eater!”


“Hey, Vice President! You should eat more meat. I’ll give you some of mine.”

“Glenn Dudley! Stop trying to hide carrots underneath your meat!”


Cyril had always been a light eater, so he found it troublesome when people tried to shove more food onto his plate.

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