Does This Love Suit Your Taste? - Volume 1 Chapter 1.4

Terrine 4

It’s 10 PM.

I deeply bow to a single madam as she leaves the store; she is the last customer of the day.

“Thank you very much.”

High school students are only allowed to work until 10 PM, but from here on, we voluntarily start the closing procedures of the restaurant.

After seeing off the last customer, I flip the 『OPEN』 sign at the entrance to 『CLOSE』 and return inside, where Ichigo has already started tidying up the cutlery.

Though I felt bad for leaving it to her, at this time, what I usually do is——

“Mabuchi-san. What should we cook today?”

Popping my head into the kitchen, I find our chef Mabuchi-san washing and arranging the cooking utensils in the dishwasher.

“Oh, good job today. Toui, you really are enthusiastic about cooking.”

“Well, yeah. Honestly, I’d quit high school right now just to work here all the time if I could.”

After business hours, I’m always learning to cook from Mabuchi-san.

I’ve decided that I will take over this ‘Maison’ in the future.

“Don’t say things like that and then end up regretting not having a proper youth once you’re an adult.”

“Yes-yes, I get it. But don’t start putting away the utensils yet, we still have prep to do, right? Besides, there’s a menu I want to practice today.”

“Ah, about that…”

Mabuchi-san stops washing dishes and sits on the counter in the back.

“No special training today. Also, I’ve already finished the prep for tomorrow.”

“What, why? I want to master this restaurant’s menu as soon as possible——”

“Shhh!”

Mabuchi-san puts his index finger to his lips.

“What’s going on…”

“Upstairs, the owner’s here.”

“Oh? That old man…?” (親父)

“Yeah, he said he has something to talk to you about.”

“Talk? About what?”

“I don’t know the details, but go and see him. We’ll close up the shop for you.”

“…Got it, thank you.”

Leaving the kitchen, I climb the stairs beyond the door marked ‘Staff Only.’

The second floor of this place is where I live. It’s a one-room apartment of twelve tatami mats, equipped with basic necessities like a bath, toilet, and kitchen. That’s where I live alone.

The lights in the room were already on. It must have been this damn old man who turned them on without permission, sitting at the dining table as if he owned the place.

“Bonsoir, Toui.” (Good evening)

A creepy greeting in French from a thoroughly Japanese old geezer.

I can’t believe that this crazy bastard is my father.

“Sorry about this, I meant to come earlier, but the dinner meeting at the Tokyo store dragged on a little.”

“…Why did you come back?”

“Hey now, I built this place, remember? I even gave in to your tantrum to stay here, so don’t complain.”

“You’re the one who suddenly decided to move to Tokyo and leave this place behind.”

This is my real father, Kiminami Isamu. He usually lives in his own apartment in Tokyo.

Let me make it clear. I hate this old man.

“I heard from Mabuchi-san. What’s this talk about?”

“Ah, I’ve reserved Maison for tomorrow, so take care of it. That’s all.”

“That’s all… Is something going on?”

“It’s not ‘something’, I have something to talk to you about.”

“To me? If it’s about me, talk now. There’s no need to go to the trouble of reserving the Maison for it.”

“I have a client meeting tomorrow, so I’ll talk about it then. It’s a hassle to discuss it twice.”

As always, our conversation doesn’t align. This old man only thinks about his own convenience.

If it’s something relevant to me, it’s only right to tell me as soon as possible, even if it’s a hassle.

But arguing would be pointless. He’d just say I don’t know the common sense of society, or that I’m still a child, or he’ll assert his point by the number of years he’s lived. That’s always the way with this foolish father of mine.

No matter how right I am, being a child invalidates my arguments in his eyes.

That’s why I hate talking with adults. That’s why I hate my father.

My father is the owner of this ‘Maison’, and he used to be the chef here. Maison is the restaurant he built after graduating from a culinary school and training in France, then returning to Japan.

However, when my father was invited to work as a chef at a three-star restaurant in a hotel run by an acquaintance in Tokyo, he accepted the offer without hesitation, hired another chef for Maison, and moved to Tokyo alone.

That move quickly led to his success. He later started his own restaurant in Tokyo, which was even more successful. e steadily increased the number of stores and is now more of a businessman than a chef.

Our family discussed moving to Tokyo just before I started high school. I chose to stay here alone, living in a room on the second floor.

And the problem is, this guy is against me taking over Maison.

“Just to let you know, I’m serious about taking over this place. If it’s unrelated to that, I’m not interested.”

This old man has always intended to put me through a four-year university and get me a regular job, providing me with an education for the gifted.

The reason I became a delinquent student is simple: to deviate from the path laid out for me and take over Maison.

If I don’t do anything but cook, there will be no other path but that of a chef. Naturally, It’s a way to naturally stray from the path of excellence my father has in mind.

That’s the idea. All to defy my father.

But this old man just laughed as if he understood my defiance.

“You never change. What’s the point of being so attached to such a rotten place?”

“Rotten…? The rotten one is you! Weren’t you the chef of this place before? Why are you so obsessed with that Tokyo restaurant? Don’t you care about Maison anymore?”

“Ah, enough, I’m tired of talking to a rebellious son. Really, you don’t even understand your parent’s feelings.”

“Rebellious…? I am——”

“I said enough—so noisy. Tomorrow, at six in the evening. Be downstair in the restaurant five minutes before that. I’ve got a good offer for you, even though you, a problem child, don’t deserve it.. Yeah, it’s me. I’m coming out. Yeah, park it down below.”

My father brushed me off while he was on the phone. He didn’t even give me a chance to speak.

When it’s this unreasonable, it just completely kills my motivation to converse.

Then, he hung up the phone and stepped onto the stairs to go down to the entrance.

“Well, I know you would make a fuss about it no matter what I say, but I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I’ll tell you one thing. It’s about what we’re going to discuss tomorrow.”

“…What is it?”

Without even looking at my face, this old man said with his back turned to me.

“Maison will close by the end of the year.”

“…huh? …what?”

While I was at a loss for words, he went down the stairs.

Anxiety and anger surged up from my back, a magma-like heat climbed up to my head.

In a panic, I chased after my father, who was heading towards the entrance.

“Are you kidding me?! Wait!! What do you mean by close?! You’ve never said anything like this before?! Why all of a sudden——”

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll explain in detail tomorrow.”

He didn’t stop his feet and went outside. I didn’t give up and kept calling out to his back.

“Hey! This conversation isn’t over! Don’t run away!”

But that old man ignored me and got into the back seat of the black car.

I knocked on the rear window of the car over and over, demanding it to be opened, but this old man didn’t even glance at me, and the car heartlessly drove off.

“Damn it!! Drop dead, you stupid old man——!!!”

My shout didn’t reach him.

It’s so frustrating. Why can’t we have an equal conversation? Before being a parent and child, we are both people.

——My life has always been confined in a box, molded and cooked by my father’s hands.