Off Work, Then I Become a Magical Girl
Book 2: Chapter 116: Dining Etiquette

Vol 2 Chapter 116: Dining Etiquette

In the Magical Kingdom, if you trace the origins of most customs or rituals, they usually lead back to the Royal Court—or even to the Queen herself.

As the saying goes, "When the King loves thin waists, the palace starves." While the Queen of the Rose Palace never enforced her preferences on others, her love for desserts was no secret. Naturally, many nobles of the court took it upon themselves to curry favor by indulging her tastes—creating all kinds of desserts and even designing entire sets of tableware specifically for enjoying them.

Over time, this dining etiquette trickled down into the common folk’s lives. As people mimicked the higher-ups, not only did desserts become the most popular and recognized food category in the Magical Kingdom, but mastering the use of dessert utensils also became a mark of one’s social standing.

Unfortunately, as a Magical Girl born into a humble background, with early family tragedies and a lingering disability, Mo He had clearly never experienced any so-called "high-society lifestyle" during her early years.

Veronica had assumed that inviting her to such a fancy restaurant meant Mo He had, at some point in the past twenty years, been exposed to some degree of luxury. But now, it seemed she had simply been overthinking it.

“...This is the layer separator.”

Holding the utensil in her hand, Veronica demonstrated while explaining, “Before you cut a cake with the dinner knife, you use the layer separator to hold it together. That way, the filling won’t spill out or collapse.”

“Ah, r-right.”

Mo He watched Veronica’s movements carefully, mimicking them step by step like a primary schooler. “Okay, I’ve got it fixed.”

“Good. Now, the dinner knives.”

Veronica pointed at the five knives lined up neatly on the table. “These are the Frostleaf Knife, the Flameleaf Knife, the Nut Knife, the Filling Knife, and the Pudding Knife. Flip them over and look at the blades—see? Each blade has a different shape and color.”

“I—I see them,” Mo He stammered, nodding.

“Alright, now we need to identify the type of cake in front of us. The waiter mentioned earlier that this is a Hazelnut Chocolate Coffee Mousse Cake.”

Veronica pointed to the plate in front of her. “So, the filling is mousse and hazelnuts, got it?”

“Mm...” Mo He nodded.

“So we’ll start with the Nut Knife.”

Veronica picked out the one with the silver blade and a slightly longer handle. “The Nut Knife is designed so that when it hits the hazelnuts in the cake, it slices through them with the tiniest vibration, preventing them from sinking and messing up the cake’s structure.”

As she explained, she effortlessly sliced off a small piece of cake. Then she set the Nut Knife aside and picked up another knife with a frosted blade.

“This is the Frostleaf Knife. Its blade has a cooling effect, so it’s used for cutting things like ice cream or mousse. We’ve cut the cake already, but that’s not enough. We need to follow the cut with the Frostleaf Knife to chill the mousse and bring out the best texture.”

“This is the Nut Knife, this is the Frostleaf Knife...”

Mo He murmured, picking through the knives, recalling the explanation, and then finally selecting a silver-handled knife. She raised it above the cake—

“Wait a second!”

Veronica, who had been watching Mo He closely, felt that something was off. And when she realized which utensil Mo He was holding and how she was holding it, she immediately tried to stop her—but it was already too late.

“Pfft... clink—”

A series of strange sounds startled the diners at a nearby table, and they all turned to look.

Mo He’s cake was now completely flattened, the mousse filling that the layer separator was supposed to protect utterly destroyed, squished into a sad mess on the plate.

Mo He herself just stared at Veronica, eyes wide and innocent, looking completely lost.

“...You grabbed the wrong one. That’s the Butter Spreader for bread, not a dinner knife.”

Veronica sighed, exasperated. “And your angle was all wrong—you just pressed the Butter Spreader straight down, so of course everything got squished out.”

Still, Veronica wasn’t about to scold Mo He. In her mind, this whole dessert utensil thing wasn’t something anyone needed to know. If Mo He wanted to learn, she’d explain. If not, well, they could just ignore it altogether.

But seeing the faintly disappointed look on Mo He’s face, she sighed, then scooped half of her own cake onto Mo He’s plate, even salvaging a few bits of Mo He’s ruined cake with a spoon.

“It’s fine, really. Here—try it. My half and your half taste the same.”

She took a bite of the crumbled mousse, adding with a casual smile, “Etiquette might add a certain... flair to the dining experience, but it’s really not that important.”

Veronica thought this would make Mo He feel better. But to her surprise, her gesture seemed to leave Mo He even more dazed.

“...What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Captain.”

Mo He pointed at the half slice Veronica had given her, her voice laced with a subtle, unexpected emotion. “It’s just like... that time.”

“That time?” Veronica frowned.

“When you left.”

Mo He gazed at Veronica, her quiet voice soft but unmistakably warm. “You gave me yours... and took something from me.”

Veronica fell silent.

She realized what Mo He was referring to—but for her, those memories were tangled up in things she’d long tried to forget. And now that they were being dragged back to the surface, she had no idea how to respond.

“Ah.”

After a long pause, she finally gave a stiff, awkward response. “Yeah... you’re right.”

“So, Captain,” Mo He asked, her gaze brimming with an intense, unspoken emotion. “This time... can you tell me the answer, properly?”

“After all this time... are you happy?”

Veronica pressed her lips into a tight line, unwilling to meet Mo He’s eyes or say another word.

The two of them fell into an odd, tense silence. It stretched between them—until a vibration from Veronica’s shoulder bag broke it.

“Excuse me, I need to take this.”

Without even glancing at the caller ID, Veronica got up and left the table, bag in hand. “You go ahead and eat. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Mo He was left sitting alone.

Not long after, a waiter approached, carefully clearing away the mess left by the cake mishap. He placed a copper pot emitting white mist and several odd-looking metal spheres on the table.

“Hello, this is your Chocolate Hotpot and its ingredients.”

“...Chocolate Hotpot?” Mo He asked curiously.

“Yes,” the waiter replied politely. “Just dip the ingredients into the pot to coat them in melted chocolate, then enjoy. If you’d like to adjust the chocolate’s flavor, we can help with that too.”

“Thank you,” Mo He nodded. “I understand.”

Veronica’s absence left a subtle impact on her, but the novelty of the restaurant’s offerings piqued her curiosity. Feeling a bit more spirited, she began examining the Chocolate Hotpot setup.

She already knew the pot contained melted chocolate—but what were these metal spheres?

Mo He picked up one of the spheres, turning it over in her hands. She could faintly make out a seam around the middle, but it was barely visible.

She tried pulling the sphere apart—no luck. Then she tried twisting it—still nothing. After several failed attempts, she started wondering if perhaps she needed a specific utensil.

Maybe one of the other dining tools could help?

Once that idea formed, it was impossible to let go. Mo He began methodically inspecting the array of utensils, searching for something that might work with the spheres. Eventually, her gaze landed on a knife with a reddish blade.

That seemed to be the Flameleaf Knife—the one the Captain had mentioned earlier.

Mo He searched her memory. Veronica had only explained the Nut Knife and Frostleaf Knife—she hadn’t said what the Flameleaf Knife was for.

Should she give it a try?

The question was still running through her mind, but her hands had already moved faster than her thoughts.

“Crack—”

Half a minute later, the waiter, drawn by the strange sounds, approached the table and saw a metal chilled sphere riddled with punctures—but still stubbornly unopened. Next to it lay a broken knife, snapped in two, with a faint chill still emanating from its blade.

And of course, there was Mo He herself—covered in a nervous sweat, yet trying her best to look nonchalant, folding napkins into shapes like an innocent Magical Girl.