From Dolce, With Love - Episode 6

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But Rustica merely smiled, and unravelled her fingers from his hand in a gentlemanly manner.

[ Rustica CG ]
Rustica: How kind of you, but I am very much in love with my bride.
I shall only accept this milk tea drop as thanks.

His blond hair was the color of milk tea, beautifully windswept as Rustica winked elegantly.
The exquisite blend of class and charm in his countenance stole my breath away.

Akira: W-Wow, Rustica! A class act in noble elegance...
Chloe: My heart was racing! Also, doesn't 'milk tea drop' sound awfully familiar to you...
Shino: It was part of the recipe in the invitation. Helping these troubled ladies should net us the ingredients for the dolce.
Mithra & Owen: Hnngh...?
Figaro: No complaining, you two. Owen, you were the one who accepted the invitation, remember?
Anyway, I think things are starting to get pretty interesting. Maybe I’ll go talk to that mint-coloured lady over there.

Faust: She's crouched on the ground, and she seems to be bothered by her leg. She might be injured.
Nero: I don't know if I can be of any help... Looks like she’s holding ingredients I've never even seen.

Figaro, Faust and Nero walked over to the lady in question.

She was bent over with her eyes cast downward. In order to make eye contact with her, Figaro tossed the tail of his coat back, and in one fluid motion, he crouched down right next to her.

Figaro: Good day to you, lady in mint. Might I know what troubles you today?
Mint Choco-Lady: ... ʀᴛꜱ, ʜᴜʀᴛꜱ. ʟᴇɢ, ʜᴜʀᴛꜱ.
Faust: He's a doctor. Can you remove your hand, and show us where you're hurt?
Figaro: Thank you. Oh, I see... There's some cracking and chipping.
I've never treated a patient made out of chocolate before. Do you think she'll be fine if I treat her by melting her?
Faust: If only partially, maybe...?
Nero: See how that leg's chipped in places? I think it'd be better to melt it, then let it solidify again instead of attempting repairs.
You can't really do that to a real live person, but this thing's body is all chocolate.
Figaro: Well, I guess you do have a point. « possideo »

Figaro held his hand over the affected area and chanted his spell-word. Amidst a pale light, the cracks in the chocolate lady's leg started melting down.
A sweet scent filled the air, and slowly, the noblewoman's ankle was restored into unblemished chocolate.

Figaro: There we go. It should be all right now.
Faust: It healed up beautifully. Come to think of it, we went along with the flow and let Figaro handle this, but in hindsight, wouldn't a chef be the more appropriate person for the job?
Nero: No, like, in the first place, I refuse to use magic for my cooking. Also, I'm gonna get nervous trying to melt something that looks and moves like a person.
And uh, I’m gonna guess that—......

Mint Choco-Lady: .........

The noblewoman made out of mint chocolate happily looked up at Figaro, and she handed him a round gem-like object the colour of mint.

Figaro: Is this the ingredient we were supposed to get from you? I'll gladly take it off your hands. Thank you.

Figaro wore a breezy smile as he plucked the mint drop out of her hand with his long, slender fingers.
The lady stared at Figaro's movements, and then, all of a sudden, she was coquettishly falling into him.

Figaro: Whoa.

Figaro gently caught her by the shoulders and nimbly got to his feet himself. He then propped her up against a nearby tree. With that done, he slipped away from her.

Figaro: Still unsteady on your feet, I see. It'll be alright, the pain will be gone soon enough.
You’re so beautifully crafted, it would be a shame if you were to get chipped again. You should stay put for a while – doctor’s orders.

Figaro said it with a gentle smile, a warm voice, and in a kindly manner. He was polite about it. It was the face of a doctor who was wishing his patients a speedy recovery as they left the consultation room.

[ Figaro CG ]
Figaro: You know, I don't actually dislike sweet things. But let’s not get too sweet, okay?
Make sure to get lots of rest and relaxation.

Figaro winked and sweetly placed the mint-coloured drop he'd just received to his lips.

Nero: ……— yeah, I figured that’d happen, because Groom san over there just had something like this happen to him.
Akira: Yeah, looks like these noblewomen will fall in love with whoever helps them out...
Shino: I know exactly what Figaro's acting like. That's called a 'foxy old man'. Heath told me that the previous Sage taught him that word.

Mithra: Hey, isn't melting them fine after all? If so, we don't need to listen to what they each have to say. Let's do it to the red one over there too.

Mithra pointed at the noblewoman made from red chocolate.
Her hat was caught in some branches, and was trapped in place. Owen saw her sorry state and let out an unamused laugh.

Owen: What a sorry lot you all are. You look weak and troubled, but it's nothing more than an act.
You can play at being beautiful dolls all you want, but all you are in the end is defective chocolate.

Akira: Wait, Owen!

Owen started sauntering towards the last noblewoman.

Owen: « quare moritor »

Without hesitation, Owen directed his spell-word at the stuck hat.
The beautiful hat with a large brim started melting into thick chocolate.

Red Choco-Lady: .........!
Owen: Pathetic. Did you think that someone would come running to your aid?
Unfortunately for you, I'm not as kind as the others. I'll make sure your pampered little brain knows its place.

Owen's words cut like blades even though they were said so sweetly and leisurely.
His cold smile only served to excite the noblewoman for some reason. She seemed lost in a dreamy daze.

Owen: Come on, don't you have something for me? Hurry up and hand it over.
Or would you prefer to return to being mere chocolate? I could use my magic to melt you down into a gooey mess just like I did your hat.
Red Choco-Lady: .........

Nero: Uhh... That's a nod of agreement?
Mithra: See, it's faster this way. It's just like I said.

The lady's gaze trembled as she presented to him a lustrous, clear orb.
The name of that clear orb appeared on the signboard of the one-legged sign.

Faust: 'Bloody Drop'... it's sanguine sap.
Akira: This is…

It was beautifully crystallised, like a cursed gemstone.
Just like its name, it was deep red, the colour of congealed blood.

Owen: Hmm, what high quality.

It was so much more vividly coloured than what I'd seen under the moonlight in the courtyard. The way the light hit it made it shine with a pale glow. I thought of the invitation addressed to Owen then:

'Dear Wizard, With Eyes of Bloody Red'

Akira: (The colour of Owen's eyes made that much of an impression, huh?)
(If it's someone who planted this many sanguine trees in their yard, they might have a little bit of an obsession with this species of tree and the sanguine sap it produces.)

After that, we managed to secure eggs from a weird-looking bird, drew some mysterious dew from a spring, and so on and so forth. It was just like a scavenger hunt.
I glanced back at the path we'd traversed, and I heard Rustica sigh in awe.

Rustica: Fufu. We have yet to arrive at the workshop, but I already feel plenty satisfied by what this garden has to offer.
Thank you, Owen.
Owen: What? Why are you thanking me?
Rustica: It's all thanks to you that we could share this wonderful experience.
I would like to convey my heartfelt gratitude to you, because you accepted that wonderful invitation. I'd also like to convey the same to Dr Dolce, who invited you.

Owen: .........

Owen did not verbally respond to Rustica's small smile.
His heterochromatic eyes were slightly curved as his smile reached them, yet they remained completely unreadable.

Akira: (Owen...?)

Figaro: ... We've walked quite a bit to get to where we are now, yet we haven't seen hide nor hair of Dr Dolce.
I was under the impression that we were welcome, and that he'd personally invited Owen, too.
Rustica: Now that you mention it, yes. Perhaps he's still putting the final touches on his grand reception for Owen at his workshop.

[ Owen giggles. ]

Owen: ...... You are all so easily deceived.

His quiet murmur was carried on the breeze to my ears.
Owen, who had been walking at the front of the pack with the one-legged sign, turned around to glance at us over his shoulder.

[ Drip! ]

The lively chatter stopped. All that could be heard was the rhythmic patter of sap dripping down the sanguine trees.

Owen: That person is setting up the warmest of receptions to welcome me, you say?
I say, not a chance. The guy you're thinking of is gone. Dr Dolce is no more.
Akira: What...?
Owen: After all, I'm the one who killed him.

We all stopped dead in our tracks at Owen's confession.
We'd arrived at the end of the forest trail just then, and the thick doors to his residence loomed before us.


[ Dr Dolce's Residence - Research Lab ]

Akira: E-Excuse me...

Beyond the doors was a wide room that looked like a laboratory.
There were countless test tubes and flasks haphazardly lined up along lab tables, among similar apparatus filled with liquids.
The shelves all the way in the back were stuffed full with suspicious little bottles, and around us were fanciful contraptions.

Faust: So this is Dr Dolce's research laboratory...
Akira: I-It's dark and eerie, and damp, and kinda giving me the chills...
Rustica: We knocked to no reply, and so we let ourselves in... I wonder if it would have been wiser to wait?
Nero: Hey, I sense someone. We're being watched.

At Nero's words, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Someone, whose intentions that we weren't privy to, was keeping a close eye on us.
And that someone was somewhere in this abnormal facility, where there was a strange, looming atmosphere that was closing in on us.

Akira: (Up until just now I was having so much fun and looking forward to the welcome party, but now I'm all sorts of uneasy...)

Figaro: Owen. Earlier, were you telling the truth?
You said you were the one who'd killed Dr Dolce.
Owen: It's the truth. What good would come of me lying about that?
Besides, it's not a rare occurrence anyway. It's perfectly common for a Northern Wizard to kill someone, isn't it, Figaro sensei?

Owen's laughter was dry.
It echoed in the quiet workshop, almost as if that unseen someone was laughing at us instead.


Episode 7 ⭢