CHAPTER 84: COOKING LESSON

Azel cut through the garlic with swift, fluid strokes.

The sound of the blade striking the cutting board echoed with a rhythm so steady it could have been mistaken for music.

He didn’t even look strained — his hand moved with precision, each clove reduced to neat fragments as though it were second nature.

Edna stood nearby, holding back a sigh.

She should have expected this.

Azel did everything with that same air of quiet competence.

Whether he was fighting, walking, or now, chopping garlic, he made it look effortless.

Her gaze lingered on his hand, the way his fingers curled around the knife, firm but relaxed.

She glanced at the onions laid out before her.

How difficult could it be?

’I can at least manage this,’ she thought, squaring her shoulders.

She picked up one of the onions, clutching it with exaggerated seriousness.

The skin crinkled under her fingers as she set it down.

She raised the knife, a bit higher than necessary, and brought it down in what she hoped would be a clean slice.

Instead —

The onion split raggedly, and a sharp sting flared across her palm.

"Ah!"

She dropped the knife, pulling back her hand instinctively.

A line of red welled across her skin, the sudden pain making her flinch.

Before she could even think of reaching for a cloth, warmth pressed against her back.

Azel’s presence enveloped her, solid and close.

His arm slipped around her waist, steadying her, while his other hand clasped hers.

A golden glow bloomed between their joined fingers.

Light surged, not harsh but soft, pure — almost too pure.

The warmth seeped into her skin, and in an instant the pain dissolved.

The wound closed before her eyes, the blood evaporating as if it had never been there at all.

Edna stared.

She had seen holy magic before, once from a Church healer in her youth.

But there was a difference between the way his power felt and the way Azel’s magic felt.

This... this was something else.

The light felt cleaner.

"You shouldn’t force yourself to do something you’ve never tried before," Azel’s voice brushed her ear, low and steady.

Edna swallowed.

She was very aware of how close he was — the press of his chest against her back, the heat of his arm around her waist.

The sting of her wound was gone, but now she felt a different kind of ache, one she couldn’t heal.

’Idiot... don’t get so close if you don’t mean it that way.’

She puffed up, more to hide her embarrassment than anything.

She could feel the arm, the way he could pull her closer with the smallest movement.

’I’ve been holding myself back long enough,’she thought, her cheeks burning as her shameless side stirred.

Part of her wanted to spin around, shove him against the counter, and kiss him until he stopped breathing so calmly.

The rational part reminded her this was hardly the time.

He let the glow fade, finally releasing her hand.

"Idiot," he said simply.

She puffed up further, hiding her fluster behind an indignant glare.

But when his arm slid away from her waist, she couldn’t stop the dissatisfied grunt that escaped her lips.

He chuckled, clearly amused, but turned back to the counter.

"Come on. Let me show you how to cut an onion."

Edna’s pride bristled, but she bit back a retort and watched closely.

Azel picked up another onion and held it steady.

"First, peel away the skin. Don’t just slice through it. Watch."

With calm movements, he scored the side of the onion, peeled back the outer layers, and revealed the smooth, white flesh beneath.

Then, with effortless precision, he chopped it into even pieces.

"Don’t force the blade," he continued. "Guide it. Let its weight do the work. See?"

He stepped back, offering her the knife.

Edna picked up another onion, mimicking his movements.

Peel, slice...

"Too much pressure," Azel said, standing at her shoulder.

She adjusted, cutting slower this time.

The knife slid more cleanly. The pieces came apart, not perfect, but neat enough.

Her eyes brightened. "I did it."

Azel gave a small nod. "Better. Do it again."

They continued, side by side, until the vegetables were neatly prepared.

Carrots, herbs, and the remaining garlic joined the pile.

Finally, Azel glanced at the counter. "Now. We can make Roselain stew."

Edna blinked. "How did you know what I planned to make?"

"Well..." His lips quirked. "It’s a dish from Deymoor. I used to have it when I was out in town."

"Do you know how to make it?"

"Yes but I haven’t actually made it before," He said with a small sigh, "Now watch me,"

He set a pot on the stove and poured oil inside.

The faint shimmer told of heat building quickly.

"First, the onions." He tossed a handful in.

The pan hissed instantly, oil snapping upward in tiny, vicious droplets.

Some landed on Azel’s face but he didn’t even blink.

Edna squeaked and stumbled back. "It’s attacking!"

Azel laughed under his breath.

"That’s just the oil. Stir them. Don’t let them burn."

She hesitated. The pan still crackled like a live thing.

"Here," Azel said, handing her the wooden spoon. "Keep it moving. You’ll get used to it."

With a wary frown, Edna took the spoon.

She stirred carefully, half-expecting the oil to leap at her again.

But as the onions softened, their sharp smell mellowed into something sweet and fragrant.

She stole a glance at Azel, who watched her with a faint smile.

"Not bad," he said.

She smirked back. "Of course it isn’t. I’m a quick learner."

"Mm." His eyes twinkled. "Quick to cut yourself, too."

Her face flared red.

She almost slammed the spoon at him, but restrained herself when the mix hissed in protest.

They added the carrots, letting them soften before Azel dropped in chunks of meat.

The sizzling grew louder, filling the air with a savory aroma that made her stomach growl.

Broth followed, bubbling as the flavors began to blend.

Azel sprinkled in herbs, explaining each one with the calm tone of someone who had done this many times before.

Edna stirred, occasionally splashing broth onto the stove, earning a patient sigh from him.

But with each step, she grew more comfortable.

Cooking was an art, it was like a rhythm...

The stew simmered, filling the room with warmth.

"Phew we’re done." Edna said and then Azel stroke his chin.

"Wait we didn’t buy rice," Azel said and Edna looked at him.

"Rice?"

Azel blinked.

"You don’t know what rice is?"

"Is that something I should know?"

’This woman is hopeless at cooking.’

[Author’s Note]

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