(Readers are greedy, they are first to demand chaps ignoring Author's circumstances, and when they get a lot of chaps they take it as for granted, and when they do not do they truly realize the worth of it)
...
(Third Person POV)
Roswaal gazed blankly at the plate of food set before him. The dish resembled some kind of artistic monstrosity, the kind that might haunt a chef's nightmares. Its grotesque colors clashed violently on the plate, and the scent—no, stench—wafting from it assaulted his senses with such intensity that it made his nose twitch involuntarily. He could do nothing but stare in stunned silence, questioning his life choices.
Emilia hesitated beside him, her silver eyes flicking between the plate and Ram, who stood nearby with an unnervingly proud smile. Puck hovered by her side, his tiny nose twitching in horror as he floated backward.
"Lia, I don't think it's a good idea—"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening in shock.
Emilia had already taken a bite.
Almost instantly, her face turned a ghastly shade of pale. Her body trembled as she struggled to swallow. Then, with an alarming lack of grace, she collapsed face-first onto the floor.
"Lia! Stay with me! Please!!" Puck cried, shaking her limp body, panic overtaking his tiny frame.
"You wretched Oni! What kind of poison did you mix into this food?!" he screamed at Ram, rage flashing in his glowing blue eyes.
Ram, in classic fashion, huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I have prepared only the finest cuisine, as always. Miss Emilia must be suffering from some internal imbalance. Perhaps she skipped breakfast."
Her tone was calm, collected—even proud—as she turned her gaze to Roswaal.
"Roswaal-sama, please enjoy the food I prepared for you," she said sweetly, her eyes gleaming with a disturbing intensity.
The clown's painted smile twitched. He was crying inside.
'Ram isn't just lazy... her cooking skills are actively destructive. This isn't food. This is a biological hazard. I can see the sauce breathing.'
She had likely combined ingredients without rhyme, reason, or even recognition of what they were. Some poor vegetables had likely been sacrificed in an unholy ritual. The result was- Behold! An Unthinkable Dish!
But Roswaal clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus.
'I must do this. For Lady Echidna's sake, I must endure. This is but a small trial. My devotion will not waver. I must survive this hellish dish!'
With trembling hands, Roswaal lifted a spoonful of the alleged soup to his lips. He stared at the viscous, unidentifiable liquid. Then, with the courage of a man condemned, he sipped.
His eyes lost all light.
Expression blank, Roswaal slowly set the spoon down. He reached calmly—eerily calmly—into the void of his coat and produced a paper bag from gods knew where. He brought it to his face and promptly began vomiting into it.
Ram blinked. "Lord Roswaal, are you unwell?"
He lifted his face from the bag, pale and dazed, and stared blankly at the ceiling, as if trying to exit his body through sheer willpower.
'It's over. I won't be able to revive you, Sensei. Forgive me. This is where I fall.'
(A/N: My boy's already dead inside.)
Suddenly, a miracle occurred.
A delightful aroma crept through the room, soft yet powerful enough to pull everyone's attention. The room grew still. Emilia, who had previously been sprawled on the ground like a corpse, suddenly jerked upward as if struck by divine lightning.
"Lia?!" Puck exclaimed, bewildered.
She took in a deep breath through her nose. Her eyes glazed over in bliss, and a bit of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth. The scent alone was strong enough to resurrect the dead, apparently.
Even Roswaal blinked slowly, the color returning to his cheeks. The divine aroma filled him with renewed purpose. The world suddenly felt a little brighter.
Zero strolled into the room like he owned it, Rem following behind him with a silver tray in hand. The moment she set it on the table and lifted the cloches, the room was filled with the kind of mouthwatering aroma only dreams could replicate.
"Good morning, Emilia—and you as well, Lord Roswaal," Zero greeted casually, seating himself like nothing unusual had just happened.
Rem moved gracefully, placing the tray before him. Under the cloches was an arrangement worthy of a noble banquet. Roasted chicken, perfectly golden and crisp, took center stage. Around it were small bowls of vibrant vegetables, fluffy mashed potatoes with a butter swirl, and warm bread rolls lightly toasted.
Then, with practiced ease, Rem sliced a lemon and squeezed it over the chicken, the citrus hiss accentuating the dish's already godlike aroma.
Emilia gawked. She glanced at her own plate, then back at Zero's feast.
The comparison hurt.
It wasn't even close. There was no contest. Hers looked like a murder scene. His looked like salvation on a plate.
"A-Ah… Emilia, would you like to eat with me?" Zero asked, turning to her with a warm smile.
"Can I? Isn't that your food?" she asked timidly, her eyes still locked on the plate like a starving animal.
"You're my friend, right?" he replied simply.
She nodded with innocent enthusiasm.
"And friends share good things with each other, don't they? Of course you can eat with me!"
Her eyes welled up. "Zero! You're not just my friend—you're my best friend!"
Puck stared in stunned betrayal. His daughter had abandoned him. For food.
Before he could even react, Emilia dragged her chair beside Zero and began to eat enthusiastically, moaning softly with joy at every bite. She looked like she had ascended to another plane of existence.
Roswaal, not to be outdone, suddenly spoke up, voice exaggerated and dramatic. "Sir Zerooo~ am I nooot your frieeend toooo? Why won't you shaaare your fooood with meee~?"
Zero gave him a polite, apologetic smile and shook his head.
"Lord Roswaal, you are a noble. I'm merely a humble commoner. It wouldn't be proper of me to treat you as an equal in such matters."
Roswaal's eye twitched violently. Ram nodded firmly beside him.
"Indeed, Roswaal-sama. Zero speaks with wisdom. Also, I prepared all of these luxurious dishes just for you today."
'Luxurious? These things are going to tear my organs apart. My digestive system is crying.'
"A-Ahem. I… I appear to be unwell today, Ram. I don't think I have an appetite," Roswaal muttered, casting one last longing look at Zero's feast.
Ram blinked, then said thoughtfully, "In that case, perhaps something lighter will suit you. I have boiled tatoes prepared for myself. Would you like some?"
Roswaal's entire being lit up like a child on Winter's Eve.
"Yeeeesss! I would love boiled tatoes!" he cried with such emotion that even Puck looked concerned.
Moments later, Rem returned with a small, steaming bowl of boiled potatoes. Plain. Simple. Innocent.
To Roswaal, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He took a bite.
A single tear ran down his cheek.
'Tatoes… glorious, life-saving tatoes. They are warm. They are kind. They are safe. I love tatoes… All hail tatoes!'
That day, Roswaal discovered a new favorite dish.
Just as planned.
(A/N: ALL HAIL TATOES! LET THEM BE PRAISED!)
To be continued…
(A/N: So yeah, I've decided to keep using AI to help with this fic. It's not messing with the plot, and after editing, I do a short proofread to clean up anything weird or extend scenes where necessary. Shoutout to the commenter who reminded me about that dialogue mistake from the earlier chapter—yeah, originally the line was 'I am Sin Archbishop, representing Pride, Zero,' but AI swapped in Subaru's real name by accident. That's fixed now, and I went back and corrected the older chapters where his real name slipped through by mistake.)
Bonus chapter is coming soon! Peace out!)