Chapter 21: The Kitchen
Because Evelia often came to the kitchen to practice her cooking skills, she was allowed to have a personal little cabinet with the chef’s permission, where her reference cookbooks and a pair of cooking aprons were stored.
After tying on the pink cat-themed apron given to her by the other maids, Evelia handed the matching deep blue apron with a small dog pattern to Alman.
Alman looked at the cute men’s apron with great interest, while Evelia diligently searched through her cookbook, slowly putting the apron on himself.
This was a rare moment for the two of them. In novels, kitchens are places that can significantly enhance the feelings between both parties, and Evelia certainly understood this.
For example, while the female protagonist carefully studied the recipes, the male protagonist could walk up behind her, saying, “Thank you for bringing me such a delicious dinner; you’ve worked hard,” while wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, leaning in to kiss her like a close newlywed couple.
Or they could play some unmentionable apron play, with the front only partially covering, the thin fabric perfectly accentuating the perky cherries, while turning around revealed that the back was bare except for a thin strap, exposing everything else.
Finally, the kitchen table could provide a venue for “next steps,” where they might sweep aside useless bottles and jars with a wave, pulling their beloved woman’s waist and lifting her onto the table, taking full advantage of the height difference for various intimate positions amidst the clashing sounds of dishes.
The kitchen is truly a place where practically anything can happen apart from serious cooking!
Here, it was the second “holy place” besides the bed.
Evelia was looking at her cookbook, but her thoughts had drifted far away.
“Master, what do you want to eat?”
After staring blankly for a while, Evelia snapped back to reality.
Although the kitchen was a sacred place, right now, haste made waste.
“As for food—anything except overly spicy or greasy is fine, but, by the way, Evelia, could you not call me ‘Master’?”
“Hmm?” Evelia raised her gaze slightly from the cookbook. “Why?”
“If you want to know why… I don’t like it.”
“……”
This sentence made Evelia’s attention fully focus on Alman.
Because of that teenage romance novel, Evelia believed that a close maid should be a sweet and cute girl, and every conversation with her master should make him feel a flutter in his heart.
In that novel, the female protagonist, Galleya, didn’t initially call the male protagonist “Master,” instead addressing him as “Sir,” and it was only after one day when she accidentally called him “Master” that the male protagonist, feeling his heart race just from those two words, realized he had feelings for the little maid.
Evelia was following this novel’s flow by calling Alman “Master,” but it seemed this result was not as good as she had hoped; rather than showing signs of being touched, Alman asked her not to use that term.
Actually, not just in that novel; one day in the garden, Evelia overheard a maid sweet-talking with a knight, and to flirt, that little maid sweetly called him “Master.” She still remembered how that young man took a deep breath, excited and thrilled at those words.
The flushed cheeks, the sweet gaze, and the shy smile revealed in front of his beloved girl made Evelia sometimes think that such expressions might never appear on Alman’s face.
Although Evelia wouldn’t actively participate in the gossip meetings of other maids, since the manor’s dining hall was shared by everyone, she could hear snippets of their conversations while eating.
It is said that the more straightforward a person is, the more innocent they are. Many knights, fierce as tigers on the battlefield, can turn into little kittens when in love. The girls delight in this personality contrast, and some maids even testified that the knight they were currently dating had precisely such a character, making others envious.
Evelia felt as though she had fallen into a world where everyone was in love; apart from herself, everyone was striving to pursue their significant other.
Ah—no, not just herself.
Evelia thought at that moment.
There were probably only two people in the entire manor who were not pursuing a romantic relationship: one was her, and the other was her target, Alman.
…It was quite awkward.
Had she chosen another target, perhaps she could fasten that relationship more easily.
After all, Alman was rumored to find raising a good horse more interesting than raising a girl.
“If you don’t like it…”
“Just call me by my name.”
Alman preempted Evelia’s response by stating his answer.
“Mr. Alman.”
“Yes, that’s the title that’s good.”
…How stiff.
Evelia felt an unusual sense of disparity.
Although the word “Master” and the heart emoji that followed were forced out, lacking much genuine emotion from Evelia, switching back from “Master” to “Mr. Alman” only made her feel that the distance they had worked hard to close had widened again.
“Didn’t we just hold hands?” Evelia subconsciously murmured.
Although her meaning was, “I thought this guy was about to fall for me, but it turns out nothing changed,” the way those words slipped from her lips made it seem more like a pouted, wronged girl being teased.
“…Ah.”
Alman, who had been lazily seated on the wooden stool in the back kitchen, stiffened at those words.
He had indeed just held hands with Evelia; such an intimate gesture was not something to be casually downplayed.
“But wasn’t it you who initiated it back then?”
Recalling that moment, Alman turned around to sit backward on the chair with his arms resting on the back.
“Is that so?” Evelia’s voice was very soft; she put the cookbook down and silently stared at Alman. This scene could easily suggest that a girl was giving the careless man a reproachful look.
But in reality, Evelia was the one who made the first move; she had initially hooked her fingers around Alman’s, and when he had made the gesture for a pinky swear, it was she who had actively intertwined their fingers.
“You didn’t refuse either.”
After saying that, Evelia lowered her head again and did not say anything more. Alman blinked, ultimately left tasting this simple exchange with a helpless smile.
Both were hiding their true feelings, so no one continued to inquire about “intertwined fingers,” much like a mutual understanding reached after an unexpected intimacy—neither party wanted to delve deeper.
But… why?
With such an intimate gesture, shouldn’t they at least say something more?
Both Evelia and Alman thought this, but oddly enough, neither mentioned it again.
Alman stood up and walked a short distance toward Evelia.
The two looked at the cookbook, ultimately moving to wash their hands at the sink under mutual, half-spoken gazes. Although this was an essential step before cooking, it now seemed to hold an additional significance for the two.
As the saying goes, after an unexpected intimacy, they pretended as if nothing had happened.
They lit the fire and set the pot over it.
High-quality ingredients are often prepared using the simplest cooking methods.
After studying for a long time, Evelia and Alman decided to make a simple bowl of noodle soup.
In contrast to the exquisite and luxurious dishes in their recipe book, Alman chose the simplest mixed noodle soup for Evelia.
Although this wasn’t a local dish, it was the easiest to prepare and hard to ruin, making it acceptable for Alman’s digestive system as well.
After a flurry of activity, pouring a ladle of broth with leafy greens over the cooked noodles, the two had completed their lunch for the day.
Though it was noodles, neither Alman nor Evelia were particularly adept with chopsticks. While it was a chance to familiarize themselves with the use of such utensils, both chose the safest option of forks to avoid embarrassing themselves in front of each other.
Plop plop.
“…?”
As Alman slurped up a few noodles, Evelia, sitting nearby, made a strange sound.
Alman turned to see that it wasn’t her but the packet of tomato sauce in her hand that was making the noise.
Alman looked on in horror as Evelia forcefully squeezed the tomato sauce into the already prepared noodle soup, turning the vegetable broth, which was previously adorned with greens, into an odd red-and-green color. He couldn’t even imagine what that bowl of soup would taste like.
While tomato with noodles is common, this was… already a seasoned noodle soup?
Plop plop.
It seemed one packet wasn’t enough to satisfy Evelia’s craving; after carelessly tossing the remnants of the first packet into the trash, she pulled out a second packet and squeezed it all in.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Alman?”
Evelia noticed Alman’s peculiar gaze, and while speaking, she lifted the packet of leftover tomato sauce and sucked it dry, just like having juice.
“You… really like tomato sauce, huh?”
“That’s right, Mr. Alman. You should try it too.”
With a clang, Evelia placed her bowl of the crimson, foul-looking noodle soup in front of Alman, startling him as the greens in the bowl quivered slightly.
“No… you should enjoy it yourself.” Alman forced a smile and politely pushed Evelia’s bowl back.
“Well, then.”
Evelia did not insist further; it seemed she genuinely liked the bowl of noodle soup and was merely offering it out of courtesy.
“Evelia, by the way, you don’t… dip dumplings in tomato sauce, do you?”
“Hmm?” Evelia tilted her head while biting into the noodles. “Isn’t it okay to eat it like this?”
“…”
Alman hesitated, wanting to say something, but ultimately said nothing, quietly inhaling the rich tomato sauce aroma while eating his mixed noodle soup.
