Story Reader / Event Story / Magpie's Fortune / Story
A knock echoes from the door.
You glance at the clock to confirm the time. It looks like your guest arrives earlier than expected.
The red-haired Construct shows up right on cue, wearing that same familiar, haughty grin.
Constellia shouldn't have any shortage of fancy restaurants, should it?
You pick a suite like this for our dinner... I have to admit, I admire your boldness.
She makes her way through the door and halts at the bar. Her sharp gaze settles on the apron you are wearing, and a quiet but unmistakable smile tugs at her lips.
So, you're the one doing the cooking?
Oh? Let me see what you've got here.
Vera strolls up to the cooking station and leans forward for a better look.
Her fiery-red hair nearly grazes the induction stove's sleek surface.
What's wrong? Feeling unsure about sampling it before it's done?
She leans in, her breath brushing softly against your ear as she speaks.
Meanwhile, Vera deftly takes a small spoon, dips it into the pot, and scoops up a bit of the broth.
She gently curls the tip of her tongue, drawing that lingering aftertaste into her mouth.
The broth is a bit mild.
Vera gives a concise remark.
All right, surprise me with your finished dish then.
I'm going to hang out in the living room. Anyway, with this open-concept kitchen, I can see everything.
A slight curve appears at the corner of her lips, and her tone sounds relaxed and delighted.
If you don't get back to your prep soon... you know that pot's going to burn, Master Chef.
Her playful banter is like a dash of spicy seasoning—it perks you right up, even from across the room.
You turn back to the cooking station. The broth is already bubbling, lifting the mushrooms to the surface and then drawing them under again.
The stew settles at once, its bubbling replaced by a gentle warmth. You crouch down again to check the oven's heat—inside is a brisket that has been marinating overnight.
Even as you hustle around, you can't shake the sense that those watchful eyes never leave your back.
You serve the roasted brisket with asparagus, a creamy mushroom soup, and caramel crepes on the table.
Vera is already seated at the table and says nothing. Instead, she raises her chin toward a tray on the table.
Two refined wine glasses rest on the tray, each filled with a pale golden liquid that bubbles gently.
Isn't mixing drinks a relaxing pastime?
Or... were you hoping to take that little bit of fun away from me?
Since you haven't kept me waiting long, let's call this special blend a little reward for my Master Chef.
She deftly grips the dinner knife with her thumb and index finger, slicing off a small, juicy piece of brisket.
Vera lifts the piece on her silver fork, closes her eyes, and savors each chew.
Mmm... It's indeed very smooth.
It's all right. At least now I see what humans mean by "cooking."
Aren't you going to try the sparkling drink I made just for you?
The aroma of fruit peel and malt fades in a heartbeat, replaced by a fiery sting that tingles every corner of your mouth.
A few stray drops slide down your throat on their own, igniting a wildfire that scorches your esophagus.
So, what do you think?
Vera chuckles softly and narrows her eyes.
No need to push yourself. We have plenty of time tonight.
Let's see how well you can hold your liquor, Com-man-dant.
