Slow Life in the Frontier with the Villainess

“Phew.”

Celestina let out a quiet sigh.

“Tired?” Dietvelde asked.

“A little… but this much is hardly worth mentioning,” she replied.

“Got it,” he said simply. Celestina turned to him with an intrigued expression.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, her gaze curious. “I’m just surprised. I never expected you to be so considerate.”

“…”

Dietvelde fell silent.

For him, being considerate of a woman’s comfort was second nature. It was just good manners, something any proper gentleman should practice. But Celestina’s genuine surprise left him unsure how to respond.

She continued with a slight smile.
“During our time at the academy, you hardly spoke to anyone. Even when a female student seemed to need help, you never offered assistance. I assumed you were indifferent to others.”

Celestina’s observation wasn’t entirely wrong, but Dietvelde had his reasons.

“Well… I kept my distance because things could get complicated. If I approached a female student, I risked drawing attention from her fiancé or being rejected outright with something like, ‘I don’t need help from a country noble.’ Avoiding those situations altogether seemed simpler. It’s not that I dislike people or anything like that.”

“Ah, I see.” Celestina’s smile deepened.

Before Dietvelde could decide whether to elaborate, a soft knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Celestina called.

The door opened, and an attendant entered, pushing a cart laden with a tea set and a small selection of snacks.

Dietvelde frowned slightly. They hadn’t ordered anything, had they? Celestina, however, accepted the delivery as though it were entirely expected.

The tray held polished silver dishes, each bearing delicate fruit slices and small cakes. Given that it was still morning, heavier items like sandwiches or scones were absent.

“Let’s eat,” Celestina said, picking up her fork.

Dietvelde followed suit, but not before clasping his hands together in a gesture of gratitude.
“Itadakimasu.”

Celestina’s brows furrowed slightly, her curiosity evident.

The gesture and phrase weren’t common in the empire. They had their origins in the distant eastern lands, where similar customs were more prevalent.

“A prayer?” she asked.

“Not quite,” Dietvelde replied. “It’s more about expressing gratitude—not to the gods, but to everything and everyone involved in bringing the food to the table. The ingredients, the people who grew and prepared them… that sort of thing.”

“Hmm… how interesting,” Celestina mused. She mimicked Dietvelde’s gesture, clasping her hands lightly and saying, “Itadakimasu.”

“It’s not a bad tradition,” she added. “Do people in your region practice this often?”

“At least in my family,” Dietvelde said. “I’m not sure how far back it goes.”

“I see…” Celestina trailed off, picking up her fork and piercing a slice of peach.

The fruit looked fresh and juicy, but the sound of the fork cutting through it was enough to make Dietvelde frown slightly. It was firm—too firm.

He took a bite himself, confirming his suspicion. The peach wasn’t bad, but it lacked the sweetness and tenderness that came with full ripeness.

“What’s wrong?” Celestina asked, noticing his thoughtful expression. “Do you dislike peaches?”

“No, it’s not that,” Dietvelde said. “I just prefer them a little sweeter and softer. These are still a bit too firm and lack aroma. I understand they’re tricky to handle once they ripen—they bruise easily, and peeling them becomes a hassle—but…”

Realizing he’d rambled, Dietvelde stopped, wincing at his own candor.

As expected, Celestina’s expression was difficult to read, but after a moment, she let out a soft laugh.

“You’re quite unlike any noble I’ve met,” she said with amusement.

“…Sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I find it rather refreshing. A man with a discerning palate is always admirable,” she said with a graceful smile, sipping her tea.

Celestina’s eyes gleamed with a playful challenge as she set her cup down.
“And what do you think of this tea? Surely you have an opinion.”

Dietvelde shrugged. “I don’t know much about tea leaves. All I can tell is that this tea probably comes from the northern plateau between the Shvilnya region and the Great Forest.”

“Oh? Spot on,” Celestina said, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“Well, I am a country noble, after all,” Dietvelde said with a small grin. “Since my family oversees the ‘granary of the empire,’ I make an effort to know where things come from.”

“How dependable,” Celestina said, her smile turning sly. “When you produce something, be sure to sell it through our trading company, won’t you?”

Her tone was sweet, but the businesslike nature of her offer made Dietvelde chuckle.

“Always a merchant at heart, aren’t you?”

Celestina returned his smile, unfazed.

Dietvelde took another bite of the firm peach, wondering idly how Celestina might react to a perfectly ripened one. Would she wrinkle her nose at the sticky juice running down her hands? Or would she savor it with the same poise she displayed in every situation?

The thought made him smile to himself as he continued his meal.