The witch and the poisonous apple

Her heart feels like it has grown twice in size, making it hard to breath, the only thing she wants to do is cry, and cry…

He's worried.

—Then… doesn't that mean, even for a fleeting moment, he thought about me?

Even though Roze isn't around, Harij saw bread in the city and thought he'd buy it for her.

This is what people call 'Joy'—isn't it?

Only now does she understand what it means.

She's so glad the person she likes did something out of his concern for her.

Will I stay in his memories?

I'm fine even if he remembers me as this strange witch who only eats lettuce—that means, the next time he sees a lettuce, he'll be reminded of me. Even if just once.

Yes—even if only once, Roze doesn't want anything anymore.

"Delicious…"

When Roze receives the bread, she discovers that it's still warm.

She had eaten bread once, when her grandmother was still alive, during her visit to the city. However, she never had something this soft…

In contrast to Roze, who's about to burst in tears, Harij only raises his eyebrows a little.

—wait a minute…

"You, you are going to eat here, too?"

"Huh? Yeah, that's right."  Harij stops at Roze's inquiry. He's about to take a piece of bread from the basket, too.

Oh, no. That means she has to clean this table, which is cluttered with mess…

…a left-over lettuce, I don't even remember since when it has been here…

However, seeing her messy table, Roze is actually relieved. Here is some semblance of her normal life. She's at least familiar with this.

"…The guest is a nobleman, after all."

"I can hear you, you know."

"As intended."

After she's finished tidying the table, Harij spreads the tablecloth he brought.

…This Knight sure is well-prepared.

Maybe he assumed her tablecloth is buried amongst all the clutters… —frustrating to say, but he's right.

A red-checkered tablecloth is spread over the wooden table—it's simple, but also nice. The sun light coming through the small window falls upon the table. To Roze, this sight excludes warmness.

"Do you have a bread knife—"

"I only have kitchen knives, sorry."

"No, I'm sorry."

Roze is thankful for his generous choice of words. She picks her most beautiful kitchen knife from the work bench.

"Oh, right, I bought some butter, too."

"The spoons are for pharmaceutical use…"

She brings a small cutting board and a wooden spoon, before sitting on a chair.

In front of her, Harij—the man she has been crushing for seven years—also sits.