CHAPTER 52: DATE [III]

Edna had to admit it — reluctantly, of course that apart from the fact the brew was immensely spicy, it was also... divine.

It wasn’t the delicate refinement of the palace’s banquets.

It wasn’t even the precise elegance of the capital’s high-class restaurants.

This was different.

The taste was raw, bold, and unapologetic, an explosion of heat and flavor that clung to her tongue like fire dancing in her mouth.

The broth seemed alive — spices searing through her taste buds, tenderness in the noodles offset by the sharp bite of the sauce.

Simply saying that it was delicious, could not cut it... It was a literal work of art, it deserved to be in the museum.

It was beautiful.

Far better than she’d expected.

She took a sharp breath in through her mouth to calm her protesting tongue.

The moment she thought she’d mastered the heat — conquered it like the Empress she was, her pride whispered a dare.

A stupid dare.

Without thinking, she tilted the bowl, downing the rest in one go.

One.

Single.

Suicidal.

Go.

The fire hit her like a blazing drake to the face.

Her whole body jolted, and the taste — oh heavens above, the taste was still glorious, but the heat was so intense her soul might just try to escape her body.

"Woah, calm down!" Azel’s voice cut through the haze of pain and pride, sounding both impressed and concerned.

She couldn’t look at him.

Absolutely not.

She kept her eyes fixed on the table, setting the bowl down with a clatter that might’ve been a little too loud.

Her cheeks were burning — not entirely from the spice and she could feel the stares of other patrons brushing against her skin like invisible fingers.

’Don’t look weak.’

’Don’t look weak.’

’You’re an Empress.’

’It’s just a little pepper,’ she told herself in a desperate attempt at mental stability. ’Nothing compared to all I’ve suffered. This is... fine. Totally fine.’

Her tongue felt like molten iron.

Her eyes wanted to water.

She absolutely would not give Azel the satisfaction of—

Something touched her lips.

She froze.

Cool liquid slid past her mouth, down her throat, extinguishing the inferno in the most blissful rush she had ever known.

Her lips parted instinctively to let more in, and when she finally dared to glance up —

It was him.

Azel was holding a cup to her mouth, pouring the water gently like he was afraid to spill even a drop.

His silver hair caught the tavern’s warm light, and his eyes... his eyes were fixed on her in that steady, calm way of his, a quiet concern that made her chest clench painfully.

Her heart didn’t just flutter.

It pounded.

No — pounded wasn’t enough.

It thrashed inside her ribs like it was trying to escape and wrap itself around him.

By the time she had swallowed the last sip, he took the cup back and sighed.

"Idiot..." he muttered softly, shaking his head.

Edna wanted to be offended.

She really did.

But the way his voice carried just enough warmth to soften the scold made her want to hide her face behind her hands.

She noticed the people around them now — some watching with mild interest, others with smiles.

Her pride stirred again.

She straightened her back, determined to reclaim her composure.

"I’ll go get another plate," Azel said, standing before she could object. "This time we’ll eat together."

Her eyes flicked to his empty bowl. "You already finished yours?"

He didn’t answer — just gave a small shrug and walked toward the counter.

When he came back, it was with a steaming bowl whose aroma announced itself before it even hit the table.

The rich, spicy scent was familiar, yet more refined, and the broth’s surface shimmered faintly with a reddish-gold sheen.

Drake Fire Noodles.

Just like the one that she had nearly killed herself over now but she could see it, it wasn’t as hot or as spicy as before.

One of her eyebrows was raised.

’Did he do it out of consideration for me?’ She wondered or was it that he couldn’t handle the spice as well?

Azel set it down with a small grin. "Now we take turns."

"...Turns?"

He picked up the bowl with ease, holding it in one hand like it weighed nothing.

"At slurping," he clarified, his tone almost teasing. "Go on. Ladies first."

Edna hesitated.

Then, with a small breath, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the rim of the bowl.

The heat rushed up in a fragrant wave, but she ignored it.

She took a mouthful, letting the broth coat her tongue.

The spicy taste was still there like before even though it was less — but by now her body was adjusting to the heat.

She even found herself chasing the flavor instead of avoiding it.

It was delicious as the last time, that was what she didn’t understand about this street food... why... just why... why did the second bite always retain the same feeling as the first?

If they ate something new in the palace, usually it was due to the the First Empress or the prince wanting to try something new, sometimes even Naelia but the first bite and the second bite didn’t taste the same.

The first was always filled with a new feeling, some kind of euphoria at eating something good and the second bite couldn’t feel the same, but right now, it was like she was tasting it for the first time all over again.

She could ignore it.

What she couldn’t ignore, however, was the way Azel’s eyes stayed on her the entire time.

Not her hands.

Not the bowl.

They were on her.

Her grip on the bowl faltered slightly.

She quickly set it down before she dropped it, the tips of her ears going red.

Azel took the bowl next, drinking with the same calm composure he always carried.

But Edna wasn’t paying attention to the noodles anymore.

Her mind was too busy screaming.

He used the part I used.

’Wait... does that mean...’

’This is... an indirect k... k...’

Her thoughts tripped over themselves and came to a crashing halt in the most humiliating way possible.

’—an indirect k-k-k-kisssssssss?!’