Chapter 48

Chapter 48

That night, Orv slept very well. However, when he woke up in the morning, he felt like something was missing.

"Ah!" Danny bit into today's roll and immediately let out an exclamation of surprise.

"What's wrong?"

"I... uh..." Danny, her face flushed, held up the roll and asked, "Did you catch the clouds?"

The white filling inside was softer than she had ever imagined, and the taste... oh, it was wonderful. Was this even something humans could taste?

"It's not clouds, just whipped cheese." A child shouldn't go through life without ever tasting candy or cake, "You can't keep it for long, you need to eat it quickly. It's a food that spoils easily."

Last night, serving food to Chief Dalian in a basin was rather hurried. The Chief said it was delicious, but didn't eat much. After he left, thinking about what he had just done, Orv felt quite embarrassed - there was indeed a reason he had been single until now.

"Okay, I'll eat it quickly."

"And don't hide it in your pocket, it will disappear."

"Ah..."

Well, the little girl obviously had the idea of hiding it away. After ruffling her hair, Orv dressed and went downstairs. Today, he wasn't in uniform but wore the original owner's clothes - a black coat, black trousers, and a small felt hat. But his shoes were still the boots that matched his uniform, making his outfit look rather mismatched.

But he had no choice, as wearing the original owner's shoes meant his toes had to be completely curled up, causing excruciating pain when walking, and the shoes themselves creaked, seemingly about to burst at any moment. These leather boots, likely worn throughout his foot growth, had silently stretched a bit. They were still small, but just bearable to wear.

As he stepped out, Orv encountered the new paperboy, a round-faced, freckled boy with round eyes and a round nose, apparently a bit older than the previous boy, Danny. The boy stood aside, stiff and nervous, "Hello, Mr. Mondale."

"Hello, Murphy," Orv smiled and walked out.

It hadn't been long since his last holiday shopping trip to the suburbs, but now it seemed like a distant memory.

Standing at the doorway, Orv suddenly felt something was amiss.

"Hello, Mr. Mondale."

"Bill?"

"I had some free time today, so I came over myself," Bill said with a smile, pointing to the roadside, "Come on, get in. By the way, you seemed deep in thought, I hope I didn't disturb you."

There was a small two-seater carriage parked – it had a narrow cabin with the coachman sitting at the back.

"No, I was just wondering why I haven’t heard the crows today, seems like I haven’t heard them since last night. Where shall we go first?"

Bill was at a loss for words at this question: "Do you have any place in mind to go first?"

"No, I'll follow your lead. But, I probably can’t sign any purchase contracts today, just looking to select some ingredients as samples." That's why he hadn’t asked the Chief for money yesterday, and of course, today’s samples would also be used for the dinner date.

"Of course, you can't just look and decide," Bill immediately agreed, "Shall we start at the docks and check the fish?"

"Sounds good." The first thing Orv thought of for his shop was making fish floss, as it's easy to prepare and still tastes good even without a variety of seasonings. With the Hook Gang's support, getting raw materials would also be easy.

The Fish Tail district's docks were less than a quarter the size of Sopa Port, which already had a very "charming" aroma. Here, with large quantities of fish being landed and garbage boats departing, the smell was even more formidable.

Bill led Orle to a warehouse, its wood construction evidently new. Fire damage marks were visible on the ground - the riot had affected the docks, suggesting that the Hook Gang's warehouse had been rebuilt after being burnt down.

Tall and robust dockworkers greeted Bill, with many dirty men and women waiting outside the warehouse. Bill explained they were fishmongers: "Despite their shabby appearance, these folks have good relationships with the stewards of nobles, and some even supply directly to major hotels."

Orle nodded, and when fresh fish arrived, he didn't rush forward but followed Bill when he moved.

Some fishmongers were still selecting, but they were a notch below in status. The most obvious sign was how the early pickers merely nodded to Bill, while the others looked at him with fear.

The fishing industry near the Norton Empire seemed quite prosperous. Among the remaining catch were large fish the length of a forearm, piles of half-meter-long squid, and various crabs and oysters. Orle picked some shrimp, a bucket of oysters, and two fish – he couldn’t identify them, but knew they were neither hairtail nor grouper.

Seeing the oysters, Orle thought of making oyster sauce. He had given up on soy sauce in this lifetime, but oyster sauce was the only simple and accessible seasoning he could think of. Although making it would take too long for today, it was feasible for the future.

As they left, some Hook Gang members were already setting up pots near the warehouse. They filled the pots with seawater and casually threw in chunks of various fish, squid, and clams to boil. This robust seafood stew even overpowered the port's usual stench.

"Why don’t you use carts to sell fish?"

"I tried, but nobody buys when the price is too low, and it's the same when it's too high. Then I tried selling upscale fish chunks. Although I made some profit, it wasn’t worth it compared to our expenses." Bill said this with a face full of worry.

This was similar to when Bonny invited Orle to sell rutabaga rolls. Plain cooked fish was neither here nor there, and while fried fish chunks were more upscale, they required more ingredients. Bill probably hadn’t found the right recipe, leading to losses.

Ollie nodded, not asking further.

Next, Bill took him to a dairy shop…

While Ollie was selecting ingredients, the chief was in his office dealing with paperwork. The other eight werewolves sat on the sofa on the other side of the office, holding wine but not drinking. They stared at Dalian with somber eyes, like a pack of wolves ready to hunt.

After finishing the last entry and organizing the files into a folder, Dalian leaned back in his chair, sinking into it: "Considering we'll be working together for decades, I think some things need to be clarified. Do you want to know why I was the only one who succeeded in entering our gentleman's bedroom?"

"Are you bragging, Garcia? You're too arrogant," Anka asked darkly.

Dalian completely ignored Anka: "The reason is simple. I believed everything Mr. Mondale said, but you didn't. You should've realized this earlier. If not, you wouldn't be here with me now, but rather pursuing your own goals."

Dalian wouldn't admit that he initially didn't trust Ollie completely either. His measured testing helped him further verify Ollie's words and actions. Once he realized Ollie's genuinely remarkable ideas, Dalian didn't hesitate to make his move.

Now that the situation was under control, there was no need to let the fools continue their antics. He also didn't intend to cut off their lifelines, as they would still need to get along in the future.

"..." Dalian's last statement was emphatic.

Because apart from Dalian, who always extravagantly refused other vampires' invitations, they were indeed all "rejects."

"It's not arrogance, gentlemen," Dalian said, looking at Anka, "You are the truly arrogant ones. If not, why do you still look at me with such eyes? Thinking I won't complain to him during our date tonight? Although he's a charming gentleman, he is actually very decisive. Sending you all back, the next ones to come will probably be much more obedient, right?"

Charming gentleman... indeed, a suitable description.

"How could you?" one werewolf blurted out his doubts.

"How could what? Complain? Why wouldn't I? Do you think too highly or too lowly of me? What kind of person am I in your eyes?"

"..." Everyone glanced at each other.

"We thought you wouldn't be someone to whine or compete for favor," Anka said dryly, "But as you said, indeed, we were too arrogant, too presumptuous."

Darian's stature... well, werewolves are generally tall and leggy, so men of such height aren't exactly small. But his looks, demeanor, and age - who could imagine such a man, cooing to another man - and mind you, a baby-faced, short guy at that?

Hmm~~ they're bullying me~ you have to help me~~

Anka shivered inwardly, thinking it was time to switch to a leather jacket as the weather turned colder.

Anka's admission of arrogance and presumption wasn't about the Chief's whining, but rather the competition for favor. Though Darian interacted privately with Orel, he shared the details with them and didn't prevent them from courting Orel when they were all together. He acted as if he didn't care at all.

The result was that the seemingly least concerned person was the first to breach the gentleman's defenses.

"So, if we follow your orders, will you help us get closer to Orveliska in the future?" a werewolf inquired.

Anka closed his eyes momentarily: Fools are easy to find, but ones this foolish are rare.

"I won't help, but I won't hinder either," Darian said, his face wearing a polite smile.

He believed Orel's current stance on premarital chastity and post-marital fidelity was genuine. But maintaining that fidelity was his own choice, and infidelity could also potentially become his choice one day. Of course, they weren't married yet, and it seemed like a distant possibility. However, Darian himself would certainly remain faithful.

After all, having waited this long, he had finally met a charming gentleman, and once he made his choice, there would be no turning back.

The fools were delighted, but the less foolish among them, including Anka, understood the implications and were seriously contemplating their future.

"Can we... get married?" "Date someone else?"

"That's a question for Mr. Mondale himself," Darian said with a shrug.

After spending the better part of the day running errands, Orel finally returned to the dormitory, laden with goods, courtesy of Bill, around three in the afternoon.

He had not only visited several suppliers for various ingredients but had also stopped by a tailor's shop to get measured for new clothes. Worried the tailor might treat him differently, Orel was pleasantly surprised by the excellent service. He requested his clothes and boots to be made half a size larger, which the tailor agreed to and promised to deliver in three days.

"Alright! Time to cook!"

Darian was reading a novel, but in truth, he wasn't as calm as he appeared. After all, it was his first date. Even if he found the shared cheesecake charming yesterday and delicious, he wouldn't admit it was a date due to his inexperience.

A soft knock on the door didn't sound loud, but to the nine werewolves in the room, it felt deafening.

Darian set the book aside, glancing at those who had stood up but sat back down awkwardly under his gaze, and raised an eyebrow: "Gentlemen, I believe it's time for you to leave."

"Of course, Chief," Anka stood up, sighing, "We're leaving now."

The door opened, revealing Orel standing outside, holding a large basket covered with a cotton cloth. Even through the cloth, a rich aroma of roasted meat wafted in.

"You really have a talent for this, but... ahem! Orel."

"?" Orel felt something was off, but the werewolf detectives were lining up to leave, so he couldn't inquire and had to step aside.

"Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Mondale."

(ω＼) Was it necessary to say that while leaving? If Orel weren't holding the basket, he would have covered his face. Once they had all left, he forgot the odd feeling he had earlier.

Darian stepped aside to let Orel in. Despite having been in the Chief's office multiple times before and after Darian took the position, this visit felt different to Orel. The familiar room now seemed filled with novelty, and even the solid, flat floor beneath his feet seemed slippery.

"Let's eat here." Instead of guiding Orel to the sofa in the rest area, Darian led him to his own office desk.

Orel glanced curiously at the desk, which held nothing out of the ordinary: documents, stationery, and a few books that looked quite hefty.

"I'll fetch the wine."

"Hmm? Isn't it here?" Orel looked towards the liquor cabinet.

"The wine for our date, how could it be placed where anyone could easily grab it?"

Orel: "!" Is this what they call being flirted with?

"Then I'll prepare the food here," Orel tried to maintain a calm exterior.

"Of course, I'll be back soon."

Setting up the food required clearing the desk of its books and documents. Orel was earnestly tidying up, with no intention of snooping through Darian's personal items. However, his sleeve accidentally brushed open the cover of one book - "The Legend of the Great Tree."

Unexpectedly, Darian liked such legendary novels. And he didn't want others to know, perhaps to maintain his image? That's why he'd disguised this book with a plain cover.

Orel decided to privately seek out this book and then casually reveal their shared interest in conversation with the Chief. Perfect plan!

Orel felt like a clever strategist.

And a book that the Chief read in secret under a different cover must be quite intriguing. Was it named "The Great Tree" after the protagonist, or was the story set beneath a colossal tree, like the world trees in elven lore?

As Oer pondered the world within the book, Dalian returned, a bottle of wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. Approaching the desk, he glanced subtly at the items on it. Noticing the shifted books, his eyes flickered momentarily. However, when he saw Oer, still smiling, inviting him to sit down and scooping salad onto his plate, his expression gradually returned to normal.

The salad was simple, comprising radish, lettuce, and celery, but the dressing was a yellow sauce Dalian had never tasted before. "This sauce is really delicious."

"It's mayonnaise." Mayonnaise is simple to make with egg yolk, butter, and lemon. Oer used soft-boiled eggs, slightly grainier than raw but safer in this era, especially as he, a vampire, wasn't immune to parasites.

The soup was a beef bone broth, seasoned with just a touch of salt and ginger, containing lettuce, slices of meat, and potatoes. Tasty, yet nothing extraordinary.

The side dish was fried fish fillet. Oer had coated the naturally non-fishy fillet in starch before frying. Marinated with lemon juice and salt, the outside was crispy and golden, the inside hot and tender. He made the starch by kneading flour in water, the remaining gluten set aside. Dalian's eyes noticeably brightened, and Oer breathed a sigh of relief.

The main dish was braised beef with baked flatbread.

Onions, apple pears, celery, radish, and garlic slices were sautéed in butter, then seasoned with bay leaves, cardamom, and lemon (spices bought at great expense). After adding beef broth and beef to stew, he added potatoes after forty minutes and stewed it for another quarter hour.

The flatbread was a sesame oil pastry. Oer learned that starch had various grades: single-sifted to five-times sifted. More sifting meant higher prices. However, some millers added gypsum to make the flour whiter and harder, appealing to wealthier customers.

Oer staunchly refused to use gypsum-laced flour, even offending a miller who then refused to sell to such a "country bumpkin." Fortunately, another miller was more accommodating.

"Crack" "Snap!"

Dalian, unfamiliar with flatbread, was enticed by its wheat and sesame aroma. Expecting a heavy texture, he bit down hard. His teeth shattered the crispy outer layer, revealing the soft bread inside, causing an accidental clatter of teeth.

Seeing Dalian suddenly cover his mouth, Oer became concerned. "Are you alright?"

Dalian's face flushed, feeling a slight "burn" on his cheeks but otherwise fine. "It's delicious..."

"Then have some more." Oer happily offered two more flatbreads.

Dalian silently accepted and began eating. His wine glass, filled with red wine, sat untouched, as he found it mismatched with the meal.

The post-dinner drink was milk tea, and the dessert was a cream and egg custard. Oer couldn't in good conscience call it a tart or pudding. Without a steamer, he improvised by placing a bowl on two wooden blocks in a large soup pot.

Watching Director Dalian finish his last bite, Oer realized something was amiss about this date.

This was their first date, and though Oer had dated in his past life, he was often quiet, leaving the conversation to his partner. Reflecting on his past breakups, he wondered if his premarital chastity was not the only reason.

Not dwelling on the past, Oer acknowledged that Director Dalian also wasn't much of a conversationalist, leading to their current, somewhat silent situation.

Yet when it came to speaking words of affection, Oer was at a loss for where to even begin.

"Still hungry?" After much thought, that was the only question Oer could come up with.

Meanwhile, Dalian was also deep in thought about what to say. Oer's question made him burst into laughter: "Hahaha! Hahahaha—!" He laughed so hard he nearly fell onto the table, almost spilling the red wine.

This truly felt like finding a treasure.

Oer: "……"

"Dear, adorable sir."

(⊙Д⊙) What?

"Yes, adorable sir. Do you like this nickname?" Dalian, propping his chin with his hand and smiling broadly at Oer, said, "Now, give me one too, how about that?"

To Dalian's surprise, Oer's face turned instantly red, not just his face but his neck and ears too.

"Ah~ so, what did you think of?"

"No, no, no! I didn't think of anything!" Oer shook his head frantically. How could he admit that the first thing that popped into his mind when Dalian mentioned nicknames were shirt stays and garters? That was too risqué, definitely not something to share. "May I call you Garcia? Just thinking about calling you Garcia makes me very happy."

"Of course, you can call me Garcia, Oer." Clearly, Oer was lying, and Dalian was really, really curious about the nickname Oer had thought of. However, he decided not to ask now. In the future, they could slowly get to know each other better.