I've Tried Going Back to Life After Dying - Chapter 14

Atrey silently took his place beside Hildegard.

She didn’t mind his silence.

Hildegard, too, possessed a delicate temperament but hers was a heart where boldness won out six times out of ten.

It wasn’t always that way. The betrayal of the husband she had loved, the bizarre harmony of sharing him with a mistress, and the life of a high-ranking noble’s wife had tempered her like steel.

Yet, to those who truly saw her, it was a life polished by sorrow one that could make the soul weep.

“What’s on the menu today?”

Atrey didn’t answer. A glance to the side showed only the faintest reddening of his ears.

Sensitive young men were difficult creatures.

Austin, being straightforward by nature, had never given her such trouble. But from what she’d heard among noble wives, a boy’s rebellious phase was nothing short of exhausting.

“Husbands alone are troublesome enough, but sons are just the same—double the nuisance,” one friend had said, laughing as if it were the happiest thing in the world.

Lost in thought, she soon caught sight of the dining hall.

“Hmm, this aroma—”

Her voice was far too loud for a mutter.

Atrey, still unaccustomed to her ways, shot her a startled look.

“Beyond that scent lies trout.”

“Trout?”

“Yes. Spring trout has flesh the color of pale coral, with just the right amount of delicate fat—utterly delicious. Sautéed with bitter herbs, it’s exquisite. And unlike salmon, it lacks that cloying richness.”

“Salmon’s good, though.”

Atrey, deep in the throes of adolescence, was fully engaged in the “lunch debate.”

“Oh, how young you are, Atrey. Yes, salmon is delicious. But let me tell you something, my dear cousin and friend.”

She stopped and looked up at him. Atrey halted as well, though his eyes betrayed confusion—What’s she going on about now?

“Eat salmon now as much as you can. Salmon, salmon, salmon. Stuff yourself until you’re sick of it.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Hildegard’s gaze grew distant, as if reminiscing over bygone days.

“The day will come when you think, ‘Ugh, salmon’s too rich.'”

“What?”

“You don’t have to believe me. Salmon will always be delicious. But mark my words there will come a time when, no matter how much you once loved it, your stomach simply won’t accept it anymore.”

Standing before the student cafeteria, she spoke as if delivering a prophecy of utmost importance a treatise on the fleeting nature of one’s bond with salmon.

“Ah! It really is trout!”

“Hildegard, you’re too loud.”

As a woman matured, her vision blurred, her perception of near and far shifted, and she experienced bodily changes she could never have imagined years before.

Among them? Slight deafness, an increase in muttering, and perhaps most notably a louder voice.

She had meant to list one but ended up with three. At the very least, Hildegard had already manifested “muttering” and “being loud.”

To her, the whispers of a young man were nothing more than mist. Without a second thought, she grabbed a tray and joined the line.

“Tartar sauce is a must.”

“Huh?”

“Fried food without acidity is incomplete.”

“What kind of slogan is that?”

“If they include even a single slice of lemon, I shall grant this cafeteria an ‘E’ for Excellent.”

Leaving a bewildered Atrey behind, she peered at the server’s hands.

“Excellent with an ‘E’!”

“You’re too loud, Hildegard.”

Ignoring him with a look that said You’re the noisy one, she accepted her plate of fried trout from the server.

The generous dollop of tartar sauce was visibly studded with chopped pickles and boiled egg. The lemon had been carved into an elegant ribbon-like twist.

“Magnificent. I hereby grant you an ‘E’ for Excellent.”

Though these were not her own household’s cooks, Hildegard long accustomed to her role as a marchioness was the type to “encourage through praise.” She showered the cafeteria server with compliments.

“If ever you consider leaving this place, do visit my household. I shall take you under my wing.”

“Hildegard, let’s go.”

Atrey gently nudged her back, cutting short her conversation with the server.

“You can’t just strike up friendly chatter with everyone.”

He grimaced.

Yet, for all his complaints, he remained a gentleman. Balancing his own tray, he guided Hildegard with a hand at her back, swiftly spotting an empty table.

“Let’s sit there.”

Hildegard’s friendliness wasn’t innate. Whether it was the ease that came with age or the threshold of becoming a mature woman, even she couldn’t say she had no self-awareness of it.

In the rapidly aging marquis household, Austin’s gentle nature had shielded her. Until now, Hildegard had remained blissfully unaware of her own subtle, inevitable aging.

“You’re missing out, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Life is short. We’ve swum the vast ocean of this hierarchical society, reached the shore, and begun the swim back. Not knowing how to savor the little moments is a great loss.”

“What are you even talking about, Hildegard?”

Atrey had been thoroughly at her mercy these past few days.