Chapter 5: In Search of Fragrance

Crash!

“Oof!”

A man collided with me and dropped the load he had been carrying on his head.

“Ah!”

“Sorry! I’ll pay you back later! Hah… Hah… Where did that bastard go?!”

Something shattered among the things he dropped, but I didn’t have time to look back.

The thief who had stolen my bag had disappeared from sight after colliding with the man.

I immediately sprinted into the alley where he had turned.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

I ran back out and looked around frantically.

Then I spotted him far ahead.

Running shirtless with my bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey! Stop right there! Hah… Hah… You little bastard, you’re dead if I catch you!”

Splash! Splash!

Through muddy water.

Across a busy road packed with cars and people.

Into another narrow alley.

I chased him like a madman.

The reason I was racing through the streets of New Delhi, India’s capital, was simple.

I needed to catch the thief who had stolen my bag.

I had been on my way from the hotel to the spice market.

Just before reaching it, the thief snatched my bag.

The moment I stepped out of the taxi.

India’s heat was approaching 40°C (104°F), but it wasn’t just about the money.

My passport was inside.

My phone.

And most importantly, the note Valerie had given me.

I couldn’t afford to lose it.

Especially because it contained the locations of Maison de l’Étoile’s spice suppliers.

So I ran.

Past cows.

Past tiny cars.

Past rickshaws.

Past carts piled high with cargo.

“Hah… Hah… Where did that bastard go? E-Evan, is this what you meant by freedom?!”

I couldn’t help cursing Evan in my heart.

It wasn’t fair to blame a dead man.

But I had my reasons.

After Professor Norton suggested that improving my sense of taste might help restore my sense of smell, I had begun intensive taste training.

Just as perfumers memorize and train themselves using fragrances, I started tasting all kinds of foods and ingredients, building up a database of flavors.

Without realizing it, my tongue had become far more sensitive than before.

I could taste things I had never noticed.

Even familiar foods revealed new flavors.

But there was a problem.

Only spices triggered colors and lights inside my mind.

No matter what dish or ingredient I ate, nothing created the same phenomenon that spices did.

Only spices seemed capable of stimulating my tongue properly.

After much thought, I finally went to see Valerie.

The first time since joining the company.

“You want to go to India?”

Valerie already looked surprised that I had come to see her.

Then she became even more surprised.

“Yes, CEO.”

“Why?”

“I think I need to experience a greater variety of spices if I want to restore my sense of smell.”

“Aren’t the spices I sent you enough?”

Valerie had been supporting me in every possible way ever since hearing there was a chance I could recover.

The company had already provided me with an enormous amount of spices.

I explained.

“The spices I received seem to be intended mainly for fragrance extraction. Their flavors feel weaker. I want to go somewhere with the freshest spices and experience them directly.”

“Ah, I suppose there could be a difference. Then I’ll simply order different ones.”

Valerie immediately offered to arrange more spices.

But I shook my head.

“Evan.”

“…”

The moment I mentioned his name, she froze.

I continued quietly.

“There are two reasons I want to go to India. The first is what I just explained.”

I hesitated.

“The second is that even if I regain my sense of smell, I don’t think I can return to work as a perfumer like this.”

Valerie remained silent.

“He was my friend. My teacher. Like a father to me. I want to visit the place he loved and sort out my feelings. You’ve done so much for me. I should recover as soon as possible and repay that kindness.”

That was the truth.

The loss of my sense of smell wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t return to work.

The bigger reason was Evan.

Maison de l’Étoile was filled with memories of him.

He had brought me there shortly after I graduated middle school.

We had spent most of my life together there.

Every corner of the company reminded me of him.

That was why returning felt impossible.

After listening quietly, Valerie took out a small notepad similar to the one she had shown me before and scribbled something down.

I assumed she was writing me a travel allowance.

But when she handed it over, it wasn’t a check.

It was an address and a phone number.

“This is one of our spice suppliers. I’ll contact them for you. Even if they don’t have what you’re looking for, they’ll know where to find cooking spices.”

“Thank you!”

I grabbed the note and hurried toward the door.

Then Valerie’s voice stopped me.

“When are you coming back?”

“As soon as possible.”

After hearing my answer, she bid me farewell in French.

“À bientôt.”

See you soon.

Now, while running through forty-degree heat, her farewell echoed in my mind.

Along with a complaint directed at Evan.

“I should’ve just stayed in France and used the spices Valerie sent me.”

After all, I had come to India partly to train my taste and partly to organize my feelings in the land Evan loved.

That was why I found myself grumbling about him.

And because accepting Valerie’s offer would’ve spared me this suffering.

My body was burning from heat and thirst.

My head was full of regrets.

Then, just as I burst out of another narrow alley while chasing the thief—

A dazzling display of colors filled my vision.

“This is…”

I froze.

For a moment, I thought my ability had returned.

An overwhelming sight spread before me.

A landscape so powerful it dominated both sight and smell.

Apparently, I had finally arrived at my destination.

The spice market.

Every spice shop displayed carefully arranged mountains of spices that resembled works of art.

Golden pyramids of turmeric.

Emerald-green towers of cardamom.

Ruby-red boxes overflowing with chili peppers.

It looked like a collection of precious jewels.

Thousands of glass jars and baskets lined the shelves, sparkling under the sunlight.

The sight was so overwhelming that I momentarily believed my sense of smell had truly returned.

Sunlight filtered through the narrow alleyways.

It mixed with spice dust floating in the air.

Tiny particles danced like glittering spirits.

The entire market seemed frozen in time.

Dreamlike.

Beautiful.

And when I finally came back to reality—

The thief was gone.

“Damn it.”

* * *

After sprinting through forty-degree heat for more than ten minutes, the adrenaline wore off.

Dizziness and dehydration hit me immediately.

I staggered and collapsed.

Several nearby people rushed over.

“China? China? Are you okay?”

“I’m not Chinese. Korean. Can I get some water, please?”

The moment I asked for water, they helped me into the shade.

Someone brought me a bottle of water.

“Human kindness is still alive. India really is a wonderful place!”

Feeling grateful, I accepted the bottle.

Gulp. Gulp.

It was the sweetest water I had ever tasted.

After resting for a while, I finally recovered enough to stand.

“Thank you very much.”

The first thing I did was thank the man who had given me the water.

Then I prepared to find a police officer or someone who could help.

That was when the man smiled at me.

Then rubbed his thumb and index finger together.

“Money.”

The sweat running down my back changed instantly.

A moment ago it had been from heat.

Now it was cold sweat.

Everything I owned had been stolen with my bag.

“Uh… I was pickpocketed. I don’t have any money right now. Could I come back tomorrow and pay you?”

“…Money.”

The man repeated the same word.

I looked around for someone who spoke better English.

No luck.

“I’ll pay double tomorrow. I really don’t have any money.”

I desperately explained that I had spare cards back at my hotel.

The man seemed to understand only two words.

“No money?”

“Yes. No money.”

Suddenly he became angry.

Then he grabbed me and began dragging me somewhere.

“No money! No water!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll definitely pay tomorrow…”

“Damn it. Humanity really is dead.”

So much for kindness.

The man led me into a narrow alley beside the spice market.

At the end stood a rundown restaurant.

Inside, an elderly man emerged from the kitchen.

His face was lined with wrinkles.

One of his front teeth was missing.

The old man and the water seller exchanged a few words in Hindi.

Afterward, the old man approached me.

“So, you drank water without having money?”

“Oh! You speak English?”

“Of course I do.”

His English carried a strong Indian accent, but it was still English.

I felt like I had been saved.

I quickly explained everything.

“A pickpocket stole my bag right after I got out of a taxi. I chased him, but the heat got to me and I collapsed. When I asked for water, I thought they were helping me out of kindness.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate.”

The old man handed some money to the water seller.

“To street vendors, a bottle of water is valuable.”

“I understand.”

Apparently he had paid for me.

Feeling grateful, I decided to ask for one more favor.

“Thank you, sir. This is embarrassing, but could I also borrow taxi fare? I’ll return tomorrow and pay everything back.”

The old man smiled.

“And how do I know you’ll actually come back?”

“I promise I will—”

Before I could continue, he grinned and showed his missing tooth.

“Still, I suppose I could help. Tell me, are you good at washing dishes? The worker who normally does it took the day off. It wasn’t difficult when I was younger, but these days it’s becoming hard.”

“…Washing dishes?”

He pointed toward the kitchen.

A mountain of dirty dishes sat there.

“Damn it. This place really has no human kindness.”

India truly was a mysterious country.

* * *

I had no idea what minimum wage was in India.

But I ended up washing dishes until dinner service ended.

The restaurant must have been famous.

Customers kept coming endlessly.

When I finally finished the last dish, the old man seated me at a table.

“Good work. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Eat dinner before you leave. I’ve already arranged someone to take you where you need to go.”

A plate of Indian curry and rice sat waiting for me.

So instead of lending me taxi money, he had apparently arranged transportation.

I sighed with relief.

Then realized I had been an idiot.

I could’ve simply taken a taxi back to the hotel and explained my situation there.

“I’m such an idiot.”

But there was no point regretting it now.

I was hungry.

So I decided to eat.

The food was served on a traditional Indian tray and meant to be eaten with your hands.

Fortunately, after washing dishes all day, my hands were spotless.

I reached toward the curry.

Just then, the old man pushed a small container toward me.

“Sprinkle this on it.”

“What is it?”

“Indian food isn’t complete without this. Without it, it wouldn’t be Indian food.”

A powerful aroma rose from the container.

Almost hypnotized, I pinched some of the powder and tasted it.

And then—

A storm of colors exploded inside my mind.

Flavors.

Colors.

Light.

Things I had never experienced before tore through my consciousness.

For a brief moment, colors even flickered into my actual field of vision.

My sense of smell had awakened.

Only for an instant.

But unmistakably.

I stared at the old man.

“Sir… what is this?”

“Masala.”

“Masala? H-How do you make it?”

“Balance and harmony.”

“Balance and harmony?”

The old man smiled.

“Would you like to learn?”

“Yes!”

I nodded vigorously.

Seeing my enthusiasm, he laughed.

“It seems you’ve been guided here by Shiva himself. Masala is the embodiment of balance and harmony.”

He pointed at me.

“Your life’s journey may become a journey to discover the ultimate masala. The perfect balance and harmony.”

Then he spread his arms.

“Welcome, traveler. The shop opens at six in the morning.”

I had come to India to train my sense of taste.

Yet somehow…

It seemed I was about to start learning how to cook.