SWS CH 06

Chapter 06

“No! Please don’t do it like that!”

My shrill voice cut through the air.

I grabbed the unfamiliar man’s hand and shouted.

“Have you never peeled a potato before?!”

I stared at him in disbelief as I held up the potato he had peeled—
no, mutilated.

Why is this mercenary so bad at peeling potatoes?

Don’t tell me he’s lived this long without ever properly peeling one?

“Why would I have?”

He replied flatly, as if the question itself was ridiculous.

When you go to war, potatoes are what you eat day in and day out. Some mercenaries even carry dried potatoes as rations.

That was exactly why I assumed he’d be good at this and left him to it—

“But again! Look how much flesh you’re taking off with the skin. That’s not peeling, that’s butchering! Look at all this potato stuck to the peel. You could make soup for three people with this!”

The potatoes I’d entrusted to him were nearly cut in half.

“That’s enough. Stop cutting and do something else.”

“…What now?”

He tossed the potato in his hand onto the ground.

When I glared at him, he immediately washed it and put it back in the basket.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Something that sounded like an excuse muttered under his breath.

“Well, I guess you’ve only practiced swordsmanship. It’s not like you’d practice peeling potatoes.”

Sighing, I handed him a potato I had neatly peeled myself.

“What are you going to make me do now?”

“This time it’s really easy.”

“What is it.”

“Grate the potatoes as finely as you can.”

After thinking long and hard about what to make with potatoes, I’d settled on one dish.

Potato pancakes.

I’d eaten and cooked more pancakes than I could count, but in ten years, I’d never once made potato pancakes.

They never went on ancestral ritual tables, and my husband hated them.

So I’d forgotten all about them—until I saw potatoes at the market.

“Just grind them as finely as possible. That’s easy, right?”

There was no grater here, and no extra money to make one.

So I planned to make full use of a strong mercenary.

“What are you talking about?”

Once again, he looked completely lost.

I rolled up my sleeves and explained as clearly as I could.

“You need to smash them until you can’t tell if it’s a potato or potato porridge.”

Tilt.

Judging by the way he tilted his head, he clearly didn’t get it.

I was wondering how to explain it better when a good idea struck me.

“Alright! Pretend this potato is someone you really hate, and turn it into mush.”

“…Someone I hate?”

“Yes.”

“Like people who torment or kill others?”

“Exactly. Everyone has at least one person whose face they want to grind into the ground.”

“I understand.”

Huh? He got it right away?

In an instant, his gaze changed.

Slash slash slash—!

“W-Wait!”

The potato split in half in midair, then into four pieces, then eight.

How many pieces was that just now?

His arm moved like spinning blades inside a blender.

Just who does he resent that much…?!

Whoever it was, I was glad it wasn’t me.

Shhk—!

When he complained earlier about potato starch sticking to the blade, I’d wondered what happened.

Now he was swinging the sword like a tornado.

I was starting to worry the heat might cook the potatoes—

Then he stopped abruptly.

“…Wow.”

Potato batter completed in five minutes.

“How did you grind it this finely?”

It was as good as something made with a high-end blender.

I thought at best it’d be roughly chopped with such a large sword, but it far exceeded my expectations.

“Is that enough?”

He lowered the sword, still warm with heat.

When I handed him a dry cloth, he wiped the blade.

“It’s perfect. Exactly what I wanted—no, even better.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Aren’t you actually a swordsmanship genius? Did I unknowingly recruit some famous swordsman?”

Haha.

Once I strain this with cloth, separate the starch water, and season it, we’re done.

“…Say that again.”

Suddenly, the mercenary grabbed my wrist.

His eyes, briefly visible through his hair, were sharp and intent.

“Did I say something weird? That I’ll strain it and season it now?”

“Not that. What you said before.”

“About being a famous swordsman? Or a swordsmanship genius?”

Apparently that was it—he released my wrist.

“…Do you really think so?”

His voice was faint.

“Yes. Honestly. But don’t forget, you still have a long way to go before you’ve worked off two silver.”

I added that just in case he tried to run.

He stared at me from beneath his hair, as if assessing me.

“What’s with that look? You don’t hear compliments often?”

Suspicious man.

I placed another potato in his hand.

The king-sized potato sat in his large, rough palm.

Just as he was about to start—

“Y-You… what are you doing here?!”

Someone’s voice rang out, sounding as if they were looking for him.

The mercenary bolted into the alley the moment he saw them.

A man wearing a hat scrambled after him.

“What the heck. He was really popular.”

I opened the lid on the cooking oil.

I’d planned to fry up the potato pancakes and have him taste them.

Looks like I’ll have to ask Michelle again today.

A little earlier.

Huff… huff…

Carlos hadn’t run far, but his breath had already reached his head.

“Cough—!”

After hearing Michelle’s shocking words, he fled in panic and stopped in a dark alley.

He’d only paused for a moment, but his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the ground.

“No. That can’t be true.”

Carlos replayed the conversation in his head.

“Halara is pregnant.”
“P-P-Pregnant?!”
“Oh dear, I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe I shouldn’t have…”
“Just earlier you were only speculating she might be pregnant. Are you saying she really is?”
“What? Were you eavesdropping on us?”

Michelle’s voice still buzzed in his ears like a mosquito.

“Do you know who the father is?”
“How would I know? She said she’s pregnant and wants to live properly now, so I’m helping her! So don’t come looking anymore. Got it?”

Her tone and expression were full of disgust.

It made the pregnancy feel real.

Pregnant?!

Even the eldest young master wasn’t married yet!

And the second young master—Docep—who hadn’t even established himself in the family—

A child? Now?

What kind of nonsense was this?

If it was true, it would ruin him.

Things in the family have already been tense lately…

If word got out that the second young master caused such a huge scandal—

The servants, including Carlos himself, wouldn’t even be able to lift their heads for a while.

“M-My lady…”

A groan slipped through his pale lips.

Just thinking about reporting this to Francesca made him feel suffocated.

‘No. Maintain your dignity, Carlos. Think calmly. Even if the pregnancy is real, there’s no proof the child is Young Master Docep’s.’

He took a deep breath and cleared his head.

What mattered was who the father was.

Halara was known as the village temptress.

Which meant there were plenty of men tangled up with her.

The father might not be Docep at all.

‘It’s too early. I told Her Grace I’d be thorough. I need solid proof!’

He forced his trembling legs to move.

There was still hope.

He hurried to find Halara.

“Have you seen a woman with golden hair?”

They said she went back and forth to the market these days, so he searched there.

“I saw her briefly this morning.”

“She was here just now.”

“I don’t know.”

Where was she?

Even the vegetable shop owner she frequented hadn’t seen her.

Carlos picked up his pace.

At the blacksmith’s shop at the edge of the market, someone finally said they’d seen her.

“A golden-haired woman…”

“That woman? She was just here.”

The blacksmith with sparse white beard answered immediately.

“She was here? Really?”

“What, you think I’m senile already?”

“Of course not. Then where did she go?”

“That, I don’t know.”

As the blacksmith turned away, Carlos followed.

“Please at least tell me which direction she went. I have something important to ask.”

He added the explanation to avoid misunderstanding—

Like what had happened with Michelle.

The blacksmith grinned.

Carlos smiled back, thinking that was a good sign.

Then—

“She left with a tall, handsome young man.”

The blacksmith delivered the news.

Carlos’s eyes lit up.

Got you.

He might catch the child’s father today—or at least someone who could be framed as such.

“She went that way.”

Carlos hurried in the direction indicated.

Disappointingly, Halara’s destination was her own home.

So much for ‘no men allowed.’ She brought one home openly.

She was in the yard.

And so was the man who looked like the father.

Holding a potato.

I’ve finally found him.

Carlos narrowed his eyes.

He saw Halara smiling.

“Aren’t you really a swordsmanship genius?”

A breeze passed through.

The grass rustled, and the man’s previously hidden figure came into view.

“…Young Master Docep?”

A handsome face. Disheveled clothes.

Someone who absolutely should not have been there—

stood right before his eyes.