CHAPTER 83: IN THE KITCHEN

Azel sighed softly as he stood outside the inn with Medusa.

The day had stretched long, after visiting the market, their "date" if one could call it that, had gone uphill from there.

They had visited so many places that even Azel was surprised she hadn’t burned out halfway.

Everywhere except the church.

Azel’s lips tightened as his eyes flicked toward the towering spire visible in the distance, bells tolling faintly.

He hadn’t told Medusa outright, but there were places he didn’t intend to step foot into until absolutely necessary.

A church was one of them.

The church in this world was similar to other churches from fantasy worlds, they were a corrupt bunch of people drunk on power.

Medusa tugged gently at his sleeve, dragging him out of thought.

She bowed lightly, though her lips were caught between her teeth in a way that betrayed nerves.

"Thank you for today, Master," she murmured. Her tone softened, almost shy.

Then she hesitated before asking, "Could I... ask for something?"

Azel didn’t need to read her mind to know what it was.

A pack materialized in his hand from his storage ring — still hot, wrapped in brown paper.

He handed it over.

"This is what you wanted, right?" he asked with a knowing smile.

He’d noticed how she had been sneaking glances at his ring all afternoon, as if waiting for the moment he would remember.

Medusa’s eyes lit up, violet irises shimmering with delight.

"Yes, Master~" she said, voice curling into a singsong as she turned her face away, pink dusting her cheeks.

She clutched the bag of kebabs like a dragon securing treasure, then suddenly unable to handle the moment, she spun and dashed inside the inn, her violet hair swaying like a comet’s tail.

Azel blinked.

Then he chuckled to himself. "...Cute."

He followed after her, stepping into the quiet warmth of the inn.

The living room was empty, lanterns swaying faintly in the evening draft.

The faint scratch of quill against parchment led his steps toward his room.

When he pushed the door open, he froze.

Lillia was perched on the floor, legs folded beneath her, giggling as she scribbled furiously on a piece of paper.

Beside her, Edna leaned in, covering her mouth as she tried (and failed) to stifle her own laughter.

The two looked so comfortable together — like they had always been this way, mother and daughter bound by more than blood, basking in simple peace.

’They really look good together,’ Azel thought, warmth curling in his chest.

His old life — hours spent grinding games, screens glowing in dimly lit rooms felt like a different universe compared to this.

He loved his new life... watching this was better than any victory screen, better than any game cleared.

"Papa!"

The little girl’s bright cry shattered his thoughts.

Lillia teleported forward in a spark of light, appearing midair before him with the paper clutched in her hands.

Azel instinctively caught her against his chest, steadying her as she giggled.

"Whoa there, speedy," Azel said, looking down at her as her silver eyes sparkled.

Edna’s gaze lifted from the floor to meet his.

She blew him a playful kiss, eyes glinting with warmth.

Azel, lips twitching, puckered back before turning his attention to the bundle of energy in his arms.

"Yes, cutie?" he asked gently.

"Papa, I drew both of us!" Lillia announced proudly, nearly shoving the paper into his face.

Azel took it with one hand while balancing her with the other.

His eyebrows arched.

At the center of the page was... well, him. Or at least, a thin stick figure version of him.

A very thin one.

With long hair.

Long enough that, for a second, Azel swore Lillia had drawn him as a woman.

Beside him was a smaller stick figure holding his hand, smiling brightly with pink scribbled hair.

Clearly Medusa, down to the detail of her round eyes and prideful stance.

"Cuteee," Azel drawled, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.

He rubbed his chin against Lillia’s cheek until she squealed.

"Yes, Papa," she giggled, pressing against him.

Then her small voice dropped into a whisper, trembling faintly. "I haven’t seen Papa since I slept yesterday. I was worried."

Azel’s chest tightened.

He stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Papa’s really strong. Nothing can happen to him."

"Of course nothing can," Edna chimed in as she stood, walking toward them.

Her smile softened as her eyes lingered on Lillia. Then she tilted her head toward Azel. "Now, can I borrow your papa for some minutes? We want to go and cook."

Lillia puffed her cheeks like Medusa, then nodded dramatically.

"Okay, Mama." She wriggled free, landing gracefully on the floor with her small feet, her silver hair bouncing. "I’ll draw some more while you two do boring stuff."

"Boring?" Azel muttered with a smile as she skipped back to her corner.

...

The kitchen smelled faintly of woodsmoke and herbs, the lantern above casting a soft glow over the counter.

The ingredients they had carried back from the market were spread neatly across the surface — onions, garlic, peppers, fresh meat still wrapped.

"You know," Azel said as he rolled his sleeves back, "we don’t have to do this."

Edna shot him a look, her pout instantly forming. "Are you trying to insinuate that I can’t cook?"

Azel turned his face away, biting the inside of his cheek.

He could face monsters, blades, conspiracies... but not the cuteness of Edna puffing her cheeks like that.

"That’s not what I meant," he said quickly. "You don’t have to."

Truthfully, he doubted any of these women could cook.

Lillia was too small, Medusa had likely never touched a stove in her tyrant’s life, and Edna was a former empress had always had servants and maids to handle such things.

In his mind, the idea of her cooking was absurd.

Charming, but absurd.

"I can," Edna said with surprising confidence, resting her hands on her hips. "I watched how the maids used to do it."

Azel’s lips twitched.

He watched her turn toward the ingredients with a flourish, the confidence in her posture radiating like sunlight.

She picked up a knife dramatically.

And then froze.

"...How do you chop an onion again?" she whispered to herself.

Azel choked back a laugh.

Edna glanced at him, her confidence visibly wavering.

Inside, her thoughts spiraled.

’I actually can’t. I don’t remember. Why did I say that with so much confidence? Ugh, Edna, you fool.’

But when she looked back at him, she straightened her shoulders again, cheeks flushed.

"Don’t just stand there, Idiot. Peel the garlic."

Azel grinned, stepping closer until his arm brushed hers. "Yes, my lady."

[Author’s Note]

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