Chapter  9

I blinked at her.

“…Huh?”

“Cooking looks easy, but if you’re not used to it, it’s actually quite difficult. Judging by the ingredients, this dish requires careful heat control. You’d struggle on your own.”

Wait a second…

“You’re really going to help me?”

“Of course. It’ll turn out much better if we do it together.”

Her answer left me momentarily speechless.

At the very least, I had expected suspicion.

But Mia simply shrugged, as though she understood even the doubt flickering across my face.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Are you worried I might suspect you?”

“Well…”

Of course I was.

I’m Rhea Frieze.

Mia smiled warmly.

“If you truly intended to harm the master, you would choose a far more discreet and reliable method than this.”

She added lightly that she was perfectly capable of judging such matters.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“…Perhaps.”

I trailed off.

What is this? I didn’t even explain myself.

Is it really alright to trust someone this easily?

I’m that Rhea Frieze.

My cheeks felt strangely warm. Without realizing it, I tugged at my apron.

Being the Emperor’s illegitimate child meant constantly proving my worth.

I lived that way for twenty years.

Even after regressing and fleeing the palace, I still had to prove I wasn’t a threat.

So Mia’s lack of suspicion—her complete ease—felt… unfamiliar.

While I stood there awkwardly, she wiped down the counter and cutting board, then brought fresh tomatoes.

“It may sound immodest, but Mia’s cooking is quite excellent. I prepare the master’s and young master’s meals myself. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m making eggplant rollatini.”

“Rollatini! How lovely. So that’s why you were cutting the tomatoes so small?”

“…Yeah. It’s harder than I expected.”

“It always is at first. Watch.”

She stepped aside slightly so I could see clearly and began slicing.

The tomatoes that had defeated me were reduced to neat, even cubes in seconds beneath her knife.

“Wow…”

It wasn’t that it was easy.

It just looked easy.

“Hehe, Your Highness. You’ll catch flies if you keep staring like that.”

Before I could react, she popped a small cube of tomato into my mouth.

I bit down reflexively.

Sweet, tangy juice burst across my tongue.

“How is it? Tasty, right?”

“…Yeah.”

“The produce here is always fresh. Would you like another?”

She casually offered another piece.

After a brief hesitation, I accepted.

She smiled at my puffed cheeks.

“You have more expressions than I expected.”

“…I do?”

“Yes. Just now, you looked very cute.”

“C-cute…?”

What was this head maid saying?

The only person who had ever called me cute was the Emperor—and it had always been manipulation.

And objectively speaking, my features weren’t cute.

They were sharp. Severe.

“You should be careful with your words.”

“Oh? Was I wrong? Thirteen is a very cute age.”

“That’s not what I—!”

I stopped.

There was no point arguing.

Mia simply laughed softly and handed me the bowl of diced tomatoes.

“Is this size alright?”

“Yes. That’s perfect.”

“What next? Shall we grill the eggplant?”

“Ah, wait.”

I hurried to the side counter and retrieved several leaves I had washed earlier.

“Before grilling, coat it with this.”

“Blue primrose?”

“Yes.”

I had gathered it from behind the estate.

Blue primrose grew commonly throughout the Empire, but when cooked with eggplant, it helped detoxify residual miasma within the body.

It was knowledge researched and used exclusively within the imperial family.

“The Duke’s body has already weakened from prolonged miasma exposure. This will help. There are many other foods that are effective too.”

“You really know a great deal.”

“When it comes to miasma and purification stones, I know more than anyone except His Majesty.”

I avoided her gaze.

A prick of guilt pierced me.

In my previous life, I had known all of this.

And I had kept silent.

Because scarcity benefited me.

Mia examined the leaves thoughtfully.

“So we mince this and coat the eggplant?”

“Yes. Then grill it. After that, we prepare the sauce—but I don’t remember the exact proportions.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

She skillfully transformed my chaotic preparation into a proper dish.

Soon, the kitchen filled with rich, savory aromas.

“There. It’s done.”

She removed the dish from the oven with satisfaction.

It had taken less than thirty minutes.

I had been prepared to struggle for hours.

After wiping the plate clean and arranging it neatly on a tray, Mia handed me a small sprig of herbs.

“Hm?”

“It’s your dish, Your Highness. You should finish it.”

She gestured toward the center.

“…But you did most of the cooking.”

“Oh my. I only lent my hands. Cooking is about heart and sincerity.”

She gently nudged the herbs toward me.

Isn’t that a little sentimental?

But before I could argue, my hand moved.

I placed the herbs delicately atop the dish.

“Now it’s complete!”

She beamed.

“…Yeah. It is.”

Even though I had barely done anything, I felt strangely proud.

“The master usually eats in his office. He skipped lunch today, saying he had no appetite. If you take it now, the timing is perfect.”

“Huh?”

“I’m delivering it?”

Mia tilted her head as though that were obvious.

“It’s your cooking. You should give it to him.”

But I barely—

“Now, now. He must be hungry.”

Before I could protest further, she ushered me toward the hallway.

By the time I realized what was happening, I was standing alone, holding the tray.

“I need to prepare dinner. Off you go, Your Highness.”

She even waved.

“Mia—”

“I’ll be cheering for you!”

And then she disappeared back into the kitchen.

“…You’re really sending me like this?”

Left alone, I stared down at the tray.

Somehow, I always ended up being swept along by her pace.

After a long sigh—

I started walking.