The first dish placed before Allen was a roast quail.
From its appearance, the dish was perfect.
The golden, crispy skin glistened with an enticing sheen of oil, garnished with a few sprigs of vibrant green parsley.
The plating was elegant, fully meeting the aesthetic standards of a noble’s table.
However, as soon as Allen gently cut into a corner with his silver cutlery, that familiar sense of dissonance seeped out from within.
He looked up, his gaze meeting Livia’s clear eyes, which were filled with tension and anticipation.
A small smudge of white flour still clung to her cheek, and her apron was tied somewhat askew.
Clearly, when it came to mastering this new “battlefield” of the kitchen, this Valkyrie was far from adept.
Allen sighed inwardly.
He knew Livia all too well.
This heaven-favored girl, this undefeated hero on the battlefield, was only clumsy and heart-wrenchingly so in two things.
One was expressing emotions, and the other was cooking.
This wasn’t just a matter of personality; it stemmed from a deep, unhealed scar within her heart.
The awfulness of Livia’s cooking wasn’t that she could produce indescribable abominations or lethally dark dishes. It was that she couldn’t make a single dish that aligned with normal taste.
Due to trauma in her upbringing, she had lost part of her sense of taste. To her, food was merely an energy block to sustain life; its flavor was irrelevant.
Thus, she could swallow the pig-slop-like gruel from the army without batting an eye, and equally could not understand why a pinch more salt or a second off the cooking time could send a dish plummeting from heaven to hell.
Her “dutiful wife” act tonight was, in essence, a test. She was using the method she was least skilled at, clumsily trying to approach Allen’s world, observing how he would accept this imperfect, real version of herself.
“Master, hurry up and try it,” Marianne, standing nearby, couldn’t help but urge when she saw Allen hesitating with his cutlery.
Her tone was full of excitement and pride for her best friend.
“Livia was busy in the kitchen all afternoon. Oh, and I was just helping her tidy up her room. She’s moved into the master bedroom next to yours. I’ve moved in too. From now on, the three of us will be neighbors!”
Allen’s expression instantly froze, then shifted to despair.
His poor door, already on the verge of becoming an object of metaphysical speculation, now had a yandere sworn sister with an explosive possessiveness moving in next door, and another protagonist with sky-high action capabilities on the other side.
These weren’t neighbors; they were two jailers!
I’d support you two sharing a room with both hands and feet, but living on either side of me… ugh, just kill me!
Marianne had never tasted Livia’s cooking before. Thanks to Allen’s “blessing,” today she finally got the chance to enjoy it.
In her imagination, the food made by her omnipotent best friend must surely be a delicacy of the mortal world.
She had no idea that Livia didn’t let her taste it not out of shyness, but purely from a sliver of self-awareness.
She also didn’t know that while she was happily helping her best friend arrange the bedroom symbolizing the “mistress of the house,” a disaster no less intense than the War between Gods and Demons was unfolding in the kitchen.
Previously, Allen’s astonishing culinary skills had broken Head Chef Robert’s principle of not letting amateurs into the kitchen, leading him to make a mistake—not everyone was Allen de Laval.
Thus, on a whim, he accepted Livia’s sincere request to borrow the kitchen and even took it upon himself to teach her how to make authentic Lorraine cuisine.
And then… he witnessed true hell.
Poor Head Chef Robert, having experienced Allen’s divine culinary baptism and then witnessed Livia’s Hell’s Kitchen, now sat huddled in a corner like a veteran with post-war trauma. His eyes were vacant as he stared at the ceiling, muttering repeatedly:
“Why… why did such a bizarre approach to ingredients appear… the heat control for the roast… how could it be so precisely controlled to achieve the perfect state of burnt outside and raw inside… I taught her step by step…”
Oblivious to all this, Marianne, filled with anticipation, picked up a small piece of quail meat and elegantly brought it to her mouth.
The next second, the happy smile on her face froze.
Her chewing became mechanical and slow. Her lively crimson eyes gradually lost focus, as if her soul was performing an emergency ejection.
An indescribable flavor exploded in her mouth—it wasn’t simply salty or bland, but a chaotic void that transcended common taste sense.
The meat was as tough as repeatedly dried-out mummy flesh, interspersed with a faint, elusive bitterness.
Yet the skin was roasted perfectly. That crispy texture contrasted with the dry toughness inside like heaven and earth, throwing her brain into an instant state of processing failure.
Refusing to believe it, she blankly extended her fork toward another dish—the cream baked scallops.
An unbearably sweet flavor mixed with the fishy smell of seafood shot straight to the top of her skull. She shuddered violently, nearly dying on the spot.
No, I can’t give up! Livia is watching!
Marianne’s reason struggled frantically on the brink of collapse. She pinned her last hope on that bowl of vegetable chowder that looked perfectly normal.
One spoonful entered her mouth.
The world… went quiet.
Marianne felt her consciousness being pulled from her body, floating in a warm, blank sea.
What did I just eat? What did it taste like? I don’t know… I can’t remember anything…
To protect her master’s mental health, her brain decisively deleted this taste memory akin to a terrorist attack.
When she came to, she found herself mechanically picking up her juice glass and gulping down the cool liquid in large mouthfuls.
“Marianne?” Livia noticed her best friend’s odd behavior and asked with concern, a hint of anxiety hidden in her eyes. “How is it?”
Marianne opened her mouth. She wanted to give her best friend a thumbs-up, tell her “you’re amazing,” praise this dinner with the most magnificent words in the world.
But… her body, her soul, were resisting this lie with all their might.
She… she really couldn’t do it!
Seeing Marianne’s tearful, devastated expression as if she had suffered a major life blow, Livia understood instantly.
The light in her eyes dimmed, and a self-mocking bitter smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
As expected… it still wasn’t good enough.
Just as the atmosphere in the dining room was about to plunge into an icy low, Allen finally set down his cutlery.
He elegantly wiped his mouth with a napkin. From start to finish, his expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, as if he hadn’t just tasted something indescribable, but merely an ordinary family meal.
Then, under everyone’s horrified gaze, he delivered his verdict in a tone so calm it was almost cold.
“My lovely Head Maid, please throw all these dishes away. Dinner… I’ll take care of it.”
For a moment, you could hear a pin drop in the dining room.
In the corner, Head Chef Robert, who had just survived the Hell’s Kitchen ordeal, saw a glimmer of post-catastrophe relief burst into his vacant eyes, nearly bursting into tears on the spot.
S-saved! We’re saved!
Clang!
A crisp sound shattered the deathly silence.
A young maid dropped the lid of a serving platter. She was petrified, her face pale as she stared at Allen.
Y-young master!
Your fiancée isn’t an ordinary beautiful girl!
She’s a Sword-Bearing Noble who kills without blinking! If you provoke her like this and she draws her sword to attack, what then?
The other servants didn’t dare breathe, heads bowed, wishing they could shrink their heads into their collars.
Marianne almost jumped out of her chair.
Young master! How can you say that? Isn’t that a bit too hurtful?
She instinctively wanted to speak up in defense of her best friend, but the words stuck in her throat, which still seemed to hold remnants of that devastating flavor, preventing any sound from coming out.
Her body’s instincts were frantically resisting her speaking up for her friend.
However, contrary to everyone’s expectations, Livia, this powerful Crestbearer, did not go berserk, did not get angry, and didn’t even show a hint of sadness on her face.
She just looked quietly at Allen, a faint “as expected” smile curling at the corner of her mouth, as if she had anticipated he would say this.
“Livia,” Allen calmly met her gaze, “You put in a lot of effort today, and I’m grateful. However, each has their own expertise. If I praised these things as delicious, it would be disrespectful both to the profession of a chef and to the effort you put in. I must point out your problems.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over each dish on the table, beginning his surgical-precision analysis.
“Let’s start with this roast quail.” He lightly tapped the charred meat with his fork.
“Your heat control is perfect. The caramelization of the skin and the rendering of the fat are just right, showing you have excellent control over temperature. However, you overlooked the most fundamental step—marination.”
“You didn’t use any spices or brine to treat the meat, leaving the internal gaminess unremoved and the texture dry and tough. You treated it like a piece of metal that needed heating, not a piece of flesh that needed its flavor awakened.”
In the corner, Head Chef Robert suddenly looked up. A glimmer of light flashed in his dull eyes, and he nodded vigorously, his lips moving silently: Yes! That’s it!
“This baked scallop dish, the problem lies in your logic.” Allen’s fork moved to another plate.
“You probably thought that since cream is sweet and scallops are savory, combining them would achieve a balance of taste. So you added enough sugar to ‘neutralize’ the scallop’s saltiness. But you forgot that cream itself has saltiness, and the scallop’s umami is its very soul. You masked the freshness with cloying sweetness. That’s putting the cart before the horse.”
Robert covered his face, letting out a suppressed sob. The young master truly is my soulmate!
“As for this soup…” Allen pointed at the seemingly most innocent bowl of vegetable chowder.
“You made the most fatal, and also the most adorable, mistake. To make the vegetables softer, you stewed them for too long, destroying all the vegetable fibers and causing the flavor compounds to leach out completely. At the same time, you threw all kinds of vegetables into the pot without considering their cooking times.”
“Carrots need long cooking; spinach and mushrooms only need a quick blanch. By treating them all equally, you ended up with this bowl of… flavorless, vaguely textured mush.”
Every one of Allen’s critiques hit the mark, precisely pointing out the seemingly minor but interconnected mistakes Livia had made at each step.
Individually, these mistakes might not be fatal, but when layered together, they created this table of “dark cuisine” that was a work of art in its own right.
After listening to Allen’s analysis, Livia nodded quietly, committing his words to memory one by one.
She didn’t feel the slightest bit of dejection from being negated.
On the contrary, a strange, warm sense of fulfillment filled her heart.
He hadn’t shown disgust, hadn’t been perfunctory, hadn’t offered false praise, and certainly hadn’t mocked her.
He had seriously tasted all her failures and, in a way that respected her efforts, given her the most sincere answer.
She didn’t need flattery from others. What she needed was precisely a “companion” like this, who could frankly point out her shortcomings.
Livia didn’t know how to interact with a man who was both familiar and a stranger, which was why she had tried to play the role of an ideal fiancée.
In doing so, she had actually overdone it a bit, something she herself had sensed.
But she had never been in love before and didn’t know what degree of effort was appropriate.
However, the strange sense of understanding she felt when with Allen made her feel at ease.
Perhaps, no matter what mistakes she made, he would tolerate her.
He truly… understood her.
For the first time, she had someone to walk alongside; she had also reunited with her lifelong best friend.
These two joys overlapped. This double joy should have brought even more, more joy, leading to a dream-like time of happiness. Yet, why…
Looking into Allen’s golden eyes that seemed to see through everything, the warmth in Livia’s heart suddenly stalled. An uncontrollable pang of sorrow welled up.
Her carefully woven “dutiful wife” disguise had been seen through by him without mercy.
Through tonight’s test, she also fully understood that Allen had already drawn a clear line for their relationship in his heart.
He accepted her, took care of her, but only had not placed her in that ambiguous realm called “lover.”
In her, he saw not a young girl in the bloom of youth, but a “patient” covered in wounds, needing guidance and healing.
This was indeed the most suitable distance for them at this moment.
But, really… couldn’t they get any closer? Could it be that her charm, enough to captivate countless heaven-favored sons, was completely ineffective before him?
This man who held the vast world in his heart, could he really not accommodate a single companion within it?
Would he also have… moments of loneliness and weakness, just like her?
Allen could see through everything about her, but Livia did not understand Allen. This imbalance made Livia feel pain.
Seeing the confusion and loss flash in Livia’s eyes, Allen felt a pang of panic.
Oh no, did I go too far?
He frowned, rapidly reviewing the situation in his mind.
Was I too harsh? That shouldn’t be. According to the original setting, Livia’s proud personality responded best to directness.
Then what was she upset about? That expression… why does it look like heartbreak?
Allen felt a headache coming on.
Ah, what did I do wrong to turn Livia from her cool, aloof Knight Princess image into this insecure, lovelorn-girl-like state?
The original Livia, if her feelings were thwarted, would simply enter the single route and live the life of a wandering knight, “taking ten steps, killing one person, leaving no trace for a thousand miles.”
She was never this… “delicate”!
Well, since I caused the trouble, I’ll fix it.
Since it was Allen’s responsibility, he had to take charge of steering this young lady, who was veering off course, back on track.
He smiled, proactively breaking the silence, and extended his hand to her.
“My dear fiancée,” his voice held a hint of teasing, yet was incredibly gentle, “Would you do me the honor of joining me to make a real dinner together?”
Livia was slightly taken aback.
Then, the light that had dimmed in her blue eyes was reignited, even brighter than before.
She raised her hand and gently placed it in his palm.
His hand was large and warm, with thin calluses on the knuckles from intense sword practice. That rough texture, instead, calmed her chaotic heart.
“Yes, I’d like that very much.”
Watching the two walk hand in hand towards the kitchen, the people in the dining room exchanged bewildered glances.
Marianne remained frozen in her seat, her mind a complete blank.
What just happened?
Livia’s cooking was so bad it made your soul leave your body… the young master criticized it mercilessly… Livia looked like she was about to cry… then the young master invited her to cook together… and she smiled?
What is all this?!
She looked blankly towards the corner.
Head Chef Robert was kneeling on the floor, drawing a wheat ear symbol over his chest, and offering a pious smile uglier than crying in the direction Allen had left.
“Finally… liberated from hell…”
Marianne: “…”
It’s over. It seems I’m the only normal person who can’t keep up with the rhythm.
This yandere maid, who had originally genuinely hoped her best friend would also fall in love with Allen, upon witnessing that Livia might actually fall for Allen, felt a certain suppressed emotion begin to uncontrollably fester deep within her heart.
It was me, I was first…
I was the first in everything… being saved by the young master, becoming a companion, and falling in love with the young master.
But… isn’t Livia and the young master getting along well exactly what I wanted to see?
If all three of us can find happiness, wouldn’t that be the most perfect ending?
But… Livia is the “fiancée”… while I am just the “sworn sister.”
I’m not as beautiful as Livia, nor as strong as her… Will the young master abandon me?
Don’t…
Don’t leave me behind…
Deep within her crimson eyes, the pathological tendencies that had barely receded surfaced once more, like a vortex in the deep sea.