Chapter 8

I was deep in thought.

“…Purification stones alone aren’t enough.”

No matter how many times I turned it over in my mind, the conclusion remained the same.

If I wanted to save Carlos, simply supplying purification stones wouldn’t be enough.

Purification stones could suppress the violent clash between miasma and mana—but that was all they did. They couldn’t restore a body already damaged by years of exposure.

And even at a glance, Carlos’s condition was dire.

Frankly, it was a miracle he was still standing.

Years of slow deterioration…

From what I had observed over the past week, he barely slept. Barely ate.

If all I wanted was to keep him barely alive, stones would suffice.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

I want him to live like a person.

If there was one thing I had gained from living my entire life as a princess, it was an absurdly detailed understanding of miasma and purification stones.

Thanks to the Emperor.

Though it wasn’t public knowledge, the Emperor also possessed mana.

While rationing purification stones to the public, he spared no effort maintaining his own body in peak condition.

And I had attended him closely.

There was no one who understood better than I did how to manage a body exposed to miasma.

I just never imagined I’d use that knowledge for someone else.

I glanced toward my bedroom window.

“Now’s probably the best time.”

There was a reason I’d hesitated until now.

Ever since my explosive first encounter with Damian, I could feel his gaze wherever I went.

He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was watching me.

Frankly, he might as well have worn a sign around his neck.

If we crossed paths, who knew what he would say…

Fortunately, Damian had been out since morning.

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

After sitting rigidly on my bed for several seconds, I hopped down.

“First—food.”

The kitchen was empty when I arrived.

Apparently, I had avoided mealtime.

“It’s enormous.”

After staring briefly at the vast space, I quietly shut the door and slipped into the adjoining storage room.

Thankfully, it was well-stocked.

“Let’s see… eggplant, tomatoes, mushrooms…”

I gathered spices and herbs as well, then shuffled back to the kitchen and dumped everything onto the counter.

I reached for a knife—

…and froze.

“…I can’t reach.”

The counters were too tall.

After scanning the room, I spotted a small wooden crate. I dragged it over and climbed onto it.

“That my pride would suffer because of my height…”

The Emperor had liked my small stature.

He liked that I fit neatly into his arms.

To please him, I had restricted my diet severely.

Even at twenty, I had barely reached average height.

Thinking about it now… perhaps he simply hadn’t wanted me to grow strong in any way.

Now that I was seven years younger, I was even smaller.

“If I start eating properly now… maybe I can grow.”

Shaking the thought away, I picked up the knife.

I arranged the ingredients on the cutting board.

“…But how large should I cut them?”

I had often visited the kitchen to supervise the Emperor’s meals, but I had never actually cooked.

Naturally. No one would dare place a kitchen knife in a princess’s hands.

And I myself had never tolerated even a speck of dust on my gown.

“Hmm.”

After a moment of consideration, I tightened my grip.

“I’ll figure it out.”

I had watched for years. It couldn’t be that difficult.

“Eggplant lengthwise… tomatoes into cubes… I think.”

I began cutting.

The eggplant looked acceptable—uneven, but manageable.

The tomatoes, however, were catastrophic.

Instead of neat cubes, I ended up with crushed red pulp splattered everywhere.

The counter looked less like a kitchen and more like a crime scene.

“…That’s not right.”

It was clearly inedible.

“Try again.”

I climbed down, retrieved more tomatoes, and tried once more—more cautiously this time.

The result wasn’t much better.

Tomato juice burst out and stained my apron a violent shade of red.

“…Why is this so difficult?”

The palace chefs made it look effortless.

Wasn’t this supposed to be simple?

I stared blankly at the ruined vegetables.

“Your Highness! What on earth happened here?”

I nearly dropped the knife.

Mia stood at the entrance, staring in horror.

She hurried inside.

“You weren’t in your room! Goodness, your clothes are a mess! If you were hungry, you should have said so!”

“I’m not hungry—”

“Bored?”

“No.”

Who gets bored and commits a massacre in the kitchen?

I closed my mouth.

There was no explanation that would make this scene less disastrous.

Mia tilted her head, eyes bright with curiosity.

Under that steady gaze, I muttered reluctantly:

“I was… preparing a meal.”

“A meal? But you already had lunch.”

“Not for me. It’s for…”

The words caught in my throat.

Heat crept up my face.

That was why I had wanted to finish it secretly.

I closed my eyes briefly, then forced them open.

“I know dishes that help a body damaged by miasma.”

“…Pardon?”

“It’s something His Majesty often ate.”

Understanding slowly dawned across her features.

“…Is it for the master?”

“…That was the intention.”

I glanced helplessly at the battlefield that had once been a cutting board.

A brief silence followed.

“Oh dear.”

Mia rolled up her sleeves, smiling gently.

“May I assist you?”