Chapter 21: The Kitchen
Because Evelia often came to the kitchen to practice cooking, she was allowed by the head chef to have her own small cabinet. Inside it were her cookbooks for reference and a pair of aprons used for cooking.
After putting on a pink cat-themed apron that was a gift from the other maids, Evelia handed a matching dark blue apron with a little dog design to Armand.
Armand looked at the cute design on the men’s apron with interest. He watched as Evelia seriously flipped through a cookbook and slowly put on the apron himself.
This was a rare moment for just the two of them. In romance novels, the kitchen was often a place where feelings could grow stronger, and of course, Evelia knew that too.
For example, when the female lead is focused on cooking, the male lead can come up behind her, say something like “Thank you for working so hard to make such a delicious dinner,” wrap his arms around her waist from behind, and kiss her on the cheek. Just like a sweet, newlywed couple.
Or there might be scenes that are too bold to describe in detail, like the “naked apron” play. From the front, the thin apron barely covers anything, showing off the curves underneath. From the back, there's only a single apron strap, leaving everything else exposed.
Then there’s the kitchen table, which can be used for the “next step.” With a sweep of the hand, bottles and jars are pushed aside, and the man lifts his beloved woman onto the table. The difference in height makes all kinds of romantic poses possible, with the sound of dishes clinking in the background as they share a passionate moment.
In short, the kitchen is a place where you can do almost anything, besides just cooking!
It was like a second “holy place” after the bedroom.
Even though Evelia was holding a cookbook in her hands, her thoughts were flying far away.
“What would you like to eat, Master?” she asked after spacing out for a while.
Although the kitchen had that kind of romantic potential, right now… things couldn’t be rushed.
“As for food, anything’s fine as long as it’s not too spicy or too greasy. But… hey, Eve, can you stop calling me ‘Master’?”
“Hmm?” Evelia looked up slightly from the cookbook. “Why?”
“Well… I just don’t like it.”
“……”
That reply made Evelia finally turn her full attention to Armand.
Because of that romance novel she read, she believed a personal maid should be sweet and charming. Every time she talked to her master, it should make his heart race.
In the novel, the main girl, Goleya, didn’t call the male lead “Master” at first either, she called him “Mr,” just like Evelia had been doing. Then one day, by chance, she called him “Master” for the first time. That one word made his heart pound so hard that he realized he had feelings for her.
Evelia had followed the novel’s plot exactly. She started calling Armand “Master” in hopes of the same result. But things didn’t go as she expected. Not only did Armand not show any signs of being moved, he actually told her to stop using that word.
It wasn’t just the novel. One day in the garden, Evelia had overheard a maid sweet-talking a knight. The maid called him “Master” in a flirty voice, and the young man’s breath caught with excitement. Evelia still remembered that moment.
The red cheeks, the loving eyes, the shy smile when looking at someone you like, Evelia sometimes wondered if such expressions would ever appear on Armand's face.
Even though Evelia didn’t join the gossip groups of the other maids, she would still hear bits of their talk while eating in the shared dining hall.
They said that the more serious a person is, the more innocent they are in love. Many knights, fierce like tigers on the battlefield, would turn into shy little kittens when they fell in love. The girls loved that kind of contrast. Some maids even shared stories of dating knights just like that, making the others jealous.
Evelia felt like she had fallen into a world where everyone was obsessed with love, except for her.
Well, maybe not just her.
At that moment, Evelia thought...
Maybe in the whole manor, there were only two people who weren’t interested in romantic relationships. One was herself. The other… was her target, Armand.
…This was truly frustrating.
If she had chosen a different target, maybe she could’ve succeeded by now.
After all, Armand was the kind of guy who, according to rumors, thought raising a good horse was more interesting than raising a girlfriend.
“If you don’t like it…”
“Just call me by my name.”
Before Evelia could speak, Armand gave her the answer.
“Mr. Armand.”
“Yes, that’s fine. Just call me that.”
...How distant.
Evelia rarely felt disappointed, but this time, she did.
Even though calling him “Master” with a little heart at the end had always been forced, like squeezing words through a tight clamp, it didn’t have much true feeling behind it. Still, going from “Master” back to “Mr. Armand” made her feel like the small bit of closeness they’d built had suddenly disappeared again.
“But we were just holding hands…” she muttered without thinking.
What she meant was something like, ‘I thought this guy was starting to fall for me, but I guess we’re right back to square one.’
But the way those words slipped from her lips made her sound more like a girl feeling wronged after being teased.
“...Ah.”
Armand, who had been sitting lazily on a wooden chair in the kitchen, suddenly froze when he heard her.
They had indeed held hands just moments ago. And not just a simple touch, it was full-on fingers interlocked. That kind of closeness wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
“But weren’t you the one who started it?”
Thinking back, Armand turned around on the chair and leaned his arms against the backrest.
“Was I?” Evelia answered softly, setting the cookbook down and staring at Armand. From an outsider’s point of view, it might’ve looked like a girl silently blaming a heartless guy with her eyes.
But to be fair, she really had made the first move, hooking her finger around his, then continuing to fully link their fingers together when he responded.
“You didn’t pull away either.”
After saying that, Evelia lowered her head and said nothing more. Armand blinked, then gave a helpless smile as he thought about their short exchange.
They were both pretending nothing had happened. So neither of them brought up the hand-holding again, like an unspoken agreement made after an unexpected incident.
Still... why?
That kind of close contact should’ve at least come with a conversation, shouldn’t it?
Both Evelia and Armand thought so. But strangely, neither of them said anything more.
Armand stood up and walked over to her.
They looked at the cookbook together, then quietly walked to the sink to wash their hands. While this step was just part of cooking, in that moment, it seemed to carry a deeper meaning.
Just like what people say, after an unexpected moment, take a bath and act like nothing happened.
They lit the stove and put the pot on.
Good ingredients are often best cooked in the simplest ways.
After some discussion, Evelia and Armand decided to make a simple bowl of noodle soup.
Instead of the fancy recipes in the cookbook, Armand chose the easiest mixed noodle soup for her to try.
Although it wasn’t a dish from their region, it was very simple to cook and hard to mess up. Armand's stomach could handle it just fine.
After working together for a while, they poured a ladle of soup, with some leafy greens, over the cooked noodles. Their lunch was finally ready.
Even though they were having noodles, neither of them was good at using chopsticks. While they could’ve used the chance to practice, they both decided not to risk embarrassing themselves and went with the safe choice, forks.
Splat. Plop.
“…?”
Just as Armand was slurping his noodles, Evelia made a strange sound beside him.
He turned his head and saw that the sound hadn’t come from her voice, but from the ketchup packet in her hand.
Armand watched in shock as Evelia squeezed a large amount of ketchup into her bowl of already-seasoned soup noodles. The broth, which moments ago had fresh green leaves floating in it, now turned into a strange mix of red and green. He couldn’t even imagine what it would taste like now.
Sure, ketchup on noodles wasn’t unheard of, but this was already a seasoned soup! Why would she…?
Splat. Plop.
Apparently one packet wasn’t enough for her taste. After tossing the empty packet into the trash, she opened a second one and squeezed it all in.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Armand?”
Evelia noticed his weird expression. As she spoke, she brought the packet to her lips and slurped up the remaining ketchup like it was fruit juice.
“You… really like ketchup, huh.”
“That’s right, Mr. Armand. You should try it too.”
Clink.
She slid her bowl of blood-red noodle soup toward him. The color was so intense it made Armand flinch like one of the leafy greens inside the bowl.
“No, no… You go ahead and enjoy it,” Armand said with a strained smile, gently pushing the bowl back toward her.
“Alright then.”
Evelia didn’t insist. It looked like she truly enjoyed the dish and had only offered it out of politeness.
“Hey, Eve… when you eat dumplings, you don't... dip your dumplings in ketchup too, do you?”
“Hm?” Evelia tilted her head, chewing her noodles. “Is that not allowed?”
“……”
Armand opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Then opened it again, and still said nothing. In the end, he just quietly sat there, surrounded by the strong smell of ketchup, and continued eating his own plain soup noodles.