Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Unexpected Visit

I don't like mystery novels.

Even though I fell into 1901 London, I didn't read the Holmes series.

However, the reason I know the content is because of London's mystery novel craze, I got spoiled on everything. Strangely, there are people in every alley who loudly talk about the next development?

But right now, Sherlock Holmes, Ars�ne Lupin, Hercule Poirot, Jane Marple, anyone is fine, I wish someone would help me.

"Ugh... Cough cough."

The smelly sack on my head was removed, and after my eyes were briefly dazzled, what I faced was a room with antique interior.

I quickly scanned the objects in the room. To gather as much information as possible.

The ceiling, wallpaper, and flooring were insignificant. There were roughly cracked places, a plain building believable even as an inn room. But the decorated reliefs were unnatural things that didn't match the room's environment.

Deep purple velvet curtains, walnut chairs decorated with golden borders, a Persian rug laid on the floor, a porcelain vase placed on a large high-quality table. Expensive antiques that couldn't even be seen in our restaurant.

A room with extreme luxury and antiquity painted over plainness.

And the owner of these objects would be that man standing with his back turned looking out the window, looking to be in his mid-30s.

An ordinary morning coat that gentry might wear, a bowler hat, solid-colored linen pants, bright chestnut-colored hair.

He wasn't particularly large in build. He looked a head smaller than the men who brought me.

Who on earth is it? Seeing that no information appears in the status window, he doesn't seem to be thinking particularly about cooking.

The only clue given to me is the single word 'Your Highness.'

An ordinary Sherlock Holmes would have endlessly guessed the man's status with just the given clues without a break to breathe, but unfortunately I'm just an ordinary Korean cuisine chef.

In a situation where even the status window doesn't work, what I can do is as always act by reading the atmosphere.

So I quickly knelt and indiscriminately poured out the words that came to mind.

"Oh! By the grace of the merciful God, the rightful ruler of Cornwall and the first Shepherd of York, the honorable and virtuous His Royal Highness The Duke of Cornwall and York! The lowly and base cook Jean-Paul Durand dares to request an audience!"

Is this the right way to say it? What do I know. I was forcibly dragged here. There was no time to receive education on royal etiquette or anything.

And the reason I called this man a duke is simple.

Because he was called 'Your Highness.' In my memory, among the 30s men of the current royal family, the only one worthy of the title Your Highness is the Duke of Cornwall and York.

What if I'm wrong? Of course the title Your Highness can also be attached to other royals. But in this London, there aren't many powerful people who would kidnap a good cook in broad daylight.

Duke of Cornwall and Duke of York.

This strange modifier is a trace of the 20th-century land-grabbing nobility system.

And the person who has the status of Duke of Cornwall and Duke of York in 1901 Britain is, first in the line of succession to the throne�

'Prince George,' the second son of His Majesty Edward VII who ascended this spring.

If you sell newspapers in London for 3 years, you recite the classics like this.

And my guess was perfect.

"Hmm, a witty fellow. How did you figure out that I'm a duke?"

The man turned around chuckling. The signs of trying to hold back laughter were clear.

According to rumors, the Duke of York is very thrifty unlike a royal, and enjoys jokes and pranks.

How thrifty is he, even when he was the heir apparent he lived in a small villa in York instead of a mansion and only enjoyed fishing and hunting.

So I mixed in a joke and countered.

"Lord Blackwood and Lord Ashford secretly informed me. They said to definitely pretend not to know. Of course it's a joke. I saw the royal seal engraved on the ring Your Highness is wearing."

"Ah, did I forget to take this off. Your eye is sharp. Do you often read the Holmes series?"

"Yes, I'm a devoted reader. I think it's an excellent novel."

"Good, very good. I also enjoy reading that novel. I'm also thinking of wanting to meet the author someday."

Surely he's not trying to kidnap Mr. Conan Doyle too. Of course I'm not a devoted reader so it doesn't matter.

Anyway, as soon as I finished speaking, I felt the two people standing behind flinch. How's my small revenge?

And only then did the status window properly appear before my eyes.

There was information written that was too important to just pass over.

[ George Frederick Ernest Albert: Chicken and Chips! I want to put it in my royal stamp collection. / Emotion: Joy / Satisfaction: - ]

What is this sound?! Surely the prince isn't also aiming for my Chicken and Chips recipe...?!

The what-if was a what-if.

###

"Oh dear, I told them to bring you politely, but it seems Lord Blackwood misunderstood and used his hands roughly. I'm sorry."

Your Highness the Duke who heard all the things I experienced up to here and my outpouring sincerely felt sorry.

Of course I didn't get angry or harbor dissatisfaction at the situation I was put in.

The two Sovereign gold coins the Duke casually tossed. Just one Sovereign has the value of 1 pound, and that was an amount equivalent to a week's wages of an ordinary London laborer.

It was also the first time I saw a gold coin in person, so I barely held back the desire to lightly bite it with my molars.

Loyalty! Your Highness!

If you trace the cause, it's because I ran away first without grasping the situation, so it can't be helped, yes!

But there was still a part I didn't understand. Why on earth did this good Duke bring me all the way here, and why is the person who should be touring Africa currently in London?

I clearly read it in the newspaper. After His Majesty Edward VII's accession, Lord George is inspecting various places around the world to elevate the prestige of the British Empire.

In fact, horribly, right now 1901 is the point when the Second Boer War was in full swing in Africa.

Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle also wrote a contribution defending the Boer War. The Duke of York was also conveying words of thanks for siding with Britain while touring the colonies on behalf of his father king.

Whether this activity was his will or something he didn't want is unknown, but I want to cast a vote for the latter.

Because when I expressed doubt, he slightly crumpled his expression.

"Ah, you knew. Anyway, since I'm the one who brought you here, I can't hide it anymore. You must keep the secret. Swear to Saint George."

"I'll swear not only to Saint George but also to the Holy Mary and the merciful God the Father."

"Good, that should be enough. I've never left London even once. And I have no intention of doing so for the time being."

"Yes? Then..."

"It's a double. I've never left British soil since I was born. But the people of the world have to believe so. And the people who know this fact are only a very few, and now you've also become one of them."

"Ah..."

The truth the Duke of York revealed was shocking.

Assassination attempts targeting the royal family, and the numerous intelligence related to that.

The British society that looks stable on the surface was actually running complicatedly like this behind the scenes.

Pretending to do an overseas tour and lying to all the media and even the family, while he himself is hiding in London avoiding the risk of assassination. The proverb that it's dark under the lamp fits perfectly.

But why of all things are you involving me here?! I don't want to know such a secret! I'm just an ordinary cook!

"Outside of Britain right now is very dangerous. Because the Boers are angry due to the war. It wouldn't be strange at all if someone pulled out a gun in a speech hall."

I didn't miss this timing and quickly threw flattery.

"That's right. You must always be wary of impure groups. Because the thousand-year history that the British Empire will bloom in the future depends on Your Highness the Duke's hands."

"Haha, your way of speaking is just like the Earl of Derby who used to nag me! By any chance, is there some relationship?"

Hic. Suddenly I hiccuped. You're asking knowing everything anyway! Like Mr. Henry or the Earl of Derby, you've already finished all the background checks gloomily, right?! You brought me all the way here because you were confident it was safe.

Thinking that, I understand why Lord Ashford was irritated. The reason is unknown, but the Duke of York needed to bring me here. Why don't I know? Ah, I know. It's almost 99 percent because of Chicken and Chips. There's no other reason.

Anyway, the agents who have to protect the reclusive prince went around in circles according to the prince's whim. They had to investigate my background including catching the moment I came out of the restaurant, and kidnap me matching the timing, so their nerves were on edge.

But the target me didn't come out of the restaurant. In fact it was closer to slacking off turning on a fan in a cool room because I disliked the smog smell.

Recently points had accumulated so much that summoning one or two modern snacks didn't even register in my stomach. Food was abundant, so there was no reason to go out, so I didn't go out. If it wasn't for the Earl of Derby matter, I wouldn't have come out.

Don't I go home? Rather than going back and forth in a leisurely way, thinking about the restaurant expansion plan, composing the next menu, and somehow completing the quest to get Mom's medicine was more urgent!

"Now, then to get to the main point... I'm sorry to bring up a request after going this far, but can you make your Chicken and Chips here? Of course I'll compensate."

Ting.

One additional Sovereign gold coin.

Ah, then of course I have to do it! Which safety would I dare!

"I've been curious about London street foods for a long time. Then I heard rumors about your Chicken and Chips. I was curious, what on earth is that to be a craze in London? So I looked into it."

According to the Duke's words, around the time he was itchy from the long reclusive life, he saw a short contribution in a magazine about the Chicken and Chips trend. I want to twist the neck of whatever reporter it was.

Anyway, after that curiosity arose and he obtained and ate it once, twice, three times, it reached a point where he couldn't endure. The desire to eat freshly fried hot Chicken and Chips!

But he can't come to the restaurant where I am. Because he's in a reclusive situation. So the conclusion was to secretly invite me the cook.

What kind of logic flow is this? Isn't something a bit strange? It seems something important is missing in the middle? Like being a nuisance, or being a nuisance?

Anyway, yes, it's all my fault. I'm the one who released the poison in London.

"Your Highness, to make Chicken and Chips, facilities and ingredients equivalent to our restaurant are needed. By any chance, are they prepared?"

"Facilities? Ingredients? Lord Ashford."

"Yes, Your Highness the Duke."

"You said you prepared them, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"He says so."

"Understood. Then I'll make the best Chicken and Chips for Your Highness the Duke. Please look forward to it."

I boasted. I have to do the value of 3 gold coins. It's gold coins!

But I didn't consider the point that these knights here are 20th-century British men.

In the kitchen I followed obediently at the words that it was prepared, there was literally no preparation at all.

None at all, never.

What there was was only oil, chicken, and flour.

"Isn't this enough? My grandmother is Scottish so I've often eaten chicken frying too."

I couldn't bring myself to throw a parent insult at this man lacking both consideration and thought.

Can't be helped, here I have no choice but to issue a special measure.

I quickly ran back to the prince. And informed him. The prince made an expression of being extremely disappointed to the point his chest was tearing.