The sky was clear and blue, but the grove of white birch trees was already adorned in its autumn colour, signifying that winter was just around the corner. I climbed out of the taxi, quickly put on a wide-brimmed hat to ward off the still-strong ultraviolet light, and hurried over to the pension's entrance. I cut across the unsurfaced parking spaces, heavy wheeled suitcase in hand, and somehow managed to make it to the deck outside of the front door without breaking one of the narrow high heels I wore. If I'd known it'd be like this, I wouldn't have put so much effort into dressing up.
I opened the door, which had a cowbell attached to it, and went inside, but nobody came to greet me. I guessed the place had probably been closed for a while. Despite having been scrubbed from top to bottom, something about the atmosphere inside felt lonesome.
"Excuse me? Is anybody there?"
I called out two or three times. Then, I heard the patter of footsteps from inside, followed by the appearance of a woman wearing an apron. As much as I hated to admit it, she was young, and prettier than me.
"Hello, can I help you?"
The woman moved as if to approach me, only to stop and stiffen. People reacted that way to me all the time; by then, it didn't surprise or offend me anymore. Who wouldn't be surprised by a six-foot-tall, 187-pound man wearing a stylish suit and 3.5-inch heels turning up on their doorstep? Even I was sometimes shocked by the gap between the mental image I had of myself and what I saw staring back at me when I looked in the mirror.
"Are you the owner, Mari?"
"...Y-yes. That's me."
"You've heard of me, I'm sure. I'm Himemiya. Reiko Himemiya."
"Huh...? You're... You're Himemiya? But... You're..."
"A fairy? You mean you didn't know?"
"Um... No. I had heard that you were a bit, uh, unusual, and was asked whether I minded, but..."
There had been plenty of times I'd turned up to a job and ended up in an argument thanks to my agent not properly explaining this fact, no matter how insistently I'd impressed it upon him to do so...
"Ah. You must've got quite the surprise, then. I don't mind if you cancel―so long as you cover my travel expenses, anyway."
The apparently novice owner recovered from her initial shock, looking back at me with a hint of seriousness in her gaze. "...I've been told that you're an extremely talented chef. As you can see, it isn't easy for a young girl like me to run a pension like this. I don't think this place can survive unless we can offer food that's at least comparable to what other places have to offer."
"...I'll bet."
"I asked a few different people for advice, and was told that there was a really skilled chef who'd be willing to come here for an absolute steal..."
"Well, I can guarantee you my asking price is a bargain for how good I am... And I think you already know why."
After leaving culinary school, I'd spent a fairly long time training at a certain famous hotel. With my skills in the kitchen recognised, I thought it was about time I came out of the closet, only to end up being fired soon after. I'd assumed that it wouldn't matter, since I spent my whole time in the kitchen, but I was naive. They said it was because I'd make my co-workers uncomfortable. None of them were even my type, anyway!
Ever since then, I'd been living as a wandering chef, going wherever I was summoned, hired only as a temporary stopgap in emergencies. Since I'd heard that the new owner was in a panic after the previous one, who also handled the cooking, had died, I assumed that once they made it through one ski season, I'd probably be let go as usual. And by that point, the idea of settling down somewhere didn't agree with me, anyway.
"So, anyway, would you mind giving me a demonstration of that skill of yours?"
"Not at all. But may I change first?"
I changed my clothes quickly and headed into the kitchen. I had all of my tools in my suitcase, but decided to use whatever was already there. Well-used frying pans, kitchen and table knives... Every spot of the sink was sparkling clean, the knives razor sharp. I could sense the previous chef's diligence.
As I peeked inside the fridge and pantry, the owner arrived.
"We don't have any guests staying here at the moment, so we don't have all that much in stock, but go ahead and use whatever you like," she said apologetically.
"You're not wrong. And it's not as if you're planning on serving up any particularly fancy dinners in the first place, is it? How about grilled chicken with herbs?"
"That sounds great, thank you. Do you mind if I watch?"
"Not at all. Go right ahead."
I quickly whipped up my specialty dish and presented it to the owner. Knife and fork at the ready, she carefully cut into the chicken and checked the juices flowing from it. It was perfectly cooked, even if I did say so myself. Yes, absolutely perfect.
The woman put a slice of chicken into her mouth, chewed it slowly, then closed her eyes and savoured the taste. She opened her eyes, tossed another slice into her mouth, and once again took her time enjoying the flavour.
"How is it?" I urged.
"...It's... good. It's really good. But..."
"'But'?"
With a sad look upon her face, the owner set the knife and fork down beside the plate, then bowed her head deeply. "Thank you for coming all the way out here... But this seems hardly any better than the food I make. Forgive me for saying this, but I don't think the cost of employing you would be justified. I'm really sorry."
She lowered her head once more, stealing a glance at my face. She seemed to be afraid that I'd start yelling and blustering.
"...You pass."
I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she started as if expecting me to hit her.
"...Excuse me?"
"I cooked it poorly on purpose. I wanted to know what level of quality you were looking for, and what it would take to satisfy you."
The owner looked at me in shock. "...You mean I was the one being tested?"
"Pretty much. I'd never fail a test, after all."
"...So next time, you'll cook me something you've made properly."
"Of course. Once you get a taste of what I can really do, you'll be begging me to work here."
"I hope you're right."
Her eyes were filled half with expectation, half with doubt.
"I am."
And, naturally, I was.
I'm someone who, as long as I'm paid for my trouble, will go anywhere, accepting even the worst establishments. But I'm only human, after all―I can't help the fact that how motivated I am in my work is heavily dependent upon whether or not I respect my employer. In that regard, even though the owner was still young, she was determined, and seemed to possess the necessary grit to make it in the service industry.
"I'm Mari Kobayashi. Nice to meet you."
I took her proffered hand. "Reiko Himemeya. ...Oh."
"Huh?"
I moved my mouth close to her ear, and whispered my real name into it.
"What!? Is that true?"
"Completely. Awful, isn't it? Don't tell anyone."
"I won't."
We both let out a giggle.