As evening approached, Cire asked what I would like for dinner.

  “Sushi,” I answered automatically.

  Two days earlier I had been talking with Ciel about Japan, and the name of the country had somehow popped into my mind. Sushi was the only Japanese dish I really knew, so that was what I chose.

  “But sushi uses fresh fish, doesn’t it?” I added quickly. “If that’s difficult, pasta would be fine too…”

  “Avery, don’t hold back,” Cire said gently. “I decided today that I’d treat you to whatever you wanted. It might take a little time, but… our chef is excellent. Just look forward to it.”

  She used a brass intercom to call the kitchen and spent several minutes discussing the menu in detail with someone who sounded like the chef. From the conversation I gathered that it would take nearly three hours. The moment I realized that, I began to regret blurting out sushi. I should have asked for something simpler—something that wouldn’t take so long to prepare or gather ingredients for.

  A few minutes after she hung up, Cire suddenly spoke again, as if remembering something.

  “Oh right, Avery. Is tea okay for a drink?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Alright.”

  She seemed to send someone a message about the drinks on her smartphone. Watching her, I could only sit there in quiet amazement at how different her world was from mine.

  Three hours ter, the butler came to summon us. Cire and I followed him to the grand hall on the first floor.

  The chandelier-lit room was far rger than the gymnasium at school.

  When I saw the food id out before us, I couldn’t help gasping.

  A huge round wooden sushi tub sat at the center of the table, filled with rows of beautifully arranged sushi. Around it were ptes of various Japanese dishes.

  A stout, seasoned-looking chef approached us and gave a brief expnation of the meal. The fried chicken, he said, was called karaage. The sliced, omelet-like dish was dashimaki tamago, a Japanese rolled omelet. There were other dishes as well—spinach dressed with sesame sauce, nikujaga stew, and miso soup. Everything looked incredible.

  “Please, don’t hesitate,” Cire said, encouraging me from the seat beside mine.

  I reached for a piece of tuna sushi.

  Using chopsticks wasn’t easy for me. After dropping it a few times, I finally managed to bring it to my mouth.

  The tuna melted on my tongue, blending with the lightly sweet and tangy rice. There was none of the fishy smell I had expected—only a fresh, delicate fvor unlike anything I had tasted before.

  “This… is amazing!”

  Seeing my enthusiastic reaction, Cire smiled with quiet satisfaction.

  “Right? Our chef trained in Japanese, Western, and Chinese cuisine. He’s truly world-css. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have eaten Japanese food myself if not for a chance like this.”

  “I almost feel guilty,” I said. “This meal must be incredibly expensive… Are you sure it’s okay that I’m not paying?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cire replied quickly. “Just think of it as my treat today. Eat as much as you like.”

  “What if your parents find out? Won’t they be angry?”

  “I’ll keep it a secret from them.”

  If I kept hesitating, it would only make Cire’s generosity awkward, so I decided to stop worrying and focused on eating.

  Still, my clumsy attempts with the chopsticks seemed to amuse her. After a while, she quietly swapped them out for a fork. The karaage was crispy on the outside and juicy inside. The dashimaki tamago was soft, sweet, and rich with broth.

  Everything was unbelievably delicious.

  By the end, I had managed to eat about a third of the dishes id out on the table. The rest was carefully packed into containers by the servants and stored in the kitchen refrigerator.