While Aether was busy talking with Xara, the Palace kitchen told a very different story.
Chop! Chop!
Tuck! Tuck!
Tang! Tang!
Puff~ Puff~
Chopping, breaking, clattering utensils, roaring fire, all of it echoing through the wide kitchen like a battlefield disguised as a cooking contest.
Each woman occupied her own stove. Cute aprons clung to their figures, stained with oil and stains.
They cooked like wives desperate to feed a husband they refused to lose, pouring obsession, rivalry, and pride into every motion.
A thick aroma filled the air, rich and heavy, meat sizzling, spices burning, sweetness colliding with bitterness.
It could have been a beautiful sight. Passion, love, devotion, all manifesting as food.
Instead, the scene leaned closer to horror than harmony,
Contestant 1 slammed her ladle down and smirked. "Mine is going to be the best,"
