Chapter 284
Chapter 284
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 284
Chapter Title: Interlude (6)
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Ars Magna Town's premier district.
Climbing a gentle hillside path densely lined with styrax and zelkova trees leads to the summit, where the Jemernai mansion stands.
The Jemernai countess's residence is also known among witches as the "Jemernai Palace."
Its grounds alone rival the size of a small village, and the mansion itself boasts facilities and scale so magnificent that, with just a bit of infrastructure, it could serve as a hotel right away.
To the east, it borders a massive lake that cuts through Ars Magna Town, and even that features over four artificial ponds—enough to give you a sense of its grandeur.
Passing through the imposing main gate that overwhelms visitors reveals a garden in perpetual bloom, its flowers preserved by magic regardless of the season.
Stepping onto the endless expanse of lush green lawn, beyond six fountains, stands the main building—a structure renowned for its beauty.
The grand hall visible immediately upon entering the main gate exudes a majestic elegance with its double-arched cathedral-like ceiling and sweeping marble staircase.
Even the long gallery, connected to the entrance hall by colonnades and used for banquets, spans over 70 meters in length and 6 meters in width, lined with exquisite paintings and sculptures like so many vases.
This was no mere parvenu's flashy pretense or vain ostentation.
Despite its lavish extravagance and apparent waste, the mansion carries an aristocratic grace and refined dignity that feels utterly unvulgar.
From every corner—even a single ivory carving adorning the stairs—there's not a flaw to be found; it's a pinnacle of luxury and splendor.
That also meant it was a place laced with a subtle tension, where even breathing too freely might draw sharp glances.
However, things lighten up a bit if you slip out through the northern corridor toward the annex.
Originally the main building before expansions turned it into an annex, it's managed a touch more loosely.
As such, the apprentice witch twins' rooms, the quarters for some fifty servants, and the spaces where those servants work are mostly clustered here.
In a mansion this vast, with staff on this scale, there's naturally an abundance of tasks—and rooms dedicated to them.
A stillroom for prepping base ingredients like jam or soup stock that require constant fires.
A pantry storing fine china and glassware.
A knife room for knives and utensils with ivory handles.
A larder for processing meat, storing eggs, cheese, butter, and all manner of ingredients.
A laundry using boiler heat for washing and ironing clothes, and so on.
These rooms bustle support the mansion's lively daily rhythm.
Yet even the mansion's frantic routine—from dawn till late evening—quiets down at night.
The kitchen, especially, goes dark by this hour unless it's the eve of a festival or banquet.
But tonight, well past 11 p.m., a faint glow leaked from the semi-basement windows where the kitchen lay.
"Hmm..."
"What's up, sis? Something wrong?"
The vast kitchen was occupied by Jemernai Odil and Odet.
The twins, usually too busy bickering, were tonight huddled together, sharing the same goal and worries.
The assistant, having resolved matters in the mortal world, was scheduled to visit the mansion soon.
Thrilling in itself, but to offer an even warmer welcome, they'd planned to personally prepare steamed horned chicken.
But these were twins raised as the countess's pampered darlings, never once having dirtied their hands with water.
Their ambitious dream of crafting the world's finest horned chicken dish was creaking from the start.
"Odet, can you show me Lena's recipe again?"
"You've already memorized it."
"Still, let me see it. I just want to double-check if this is right."
First off, the base ingredients were perfectly prepped.
One large horned chicken, fully dressed.
They'd wanted to handle it from start to finish, but plucking a live bird and gutting it was beyond them—so they'd asked Pecha to prepare it ahead.
"Black garlic thinly sliced: check. Carrots, sage, ginger, celery: got 'em. Bay leaves... rosemary: good. All the spices: here. Butter: yep..."
"What's the matter? Isn't this just like Lena said?"
"Doesn't it feel like something's missing?"
Exactly.
Lena, worried the twins might cut themselves, had washed and peeled all the vegetables.
She'd even soaked the chicken in milk to draw out blood and fishiness, and preheated the oven.
At this point, it was less homemade cooking and more like an easy-prep kit.
For the twins, clumsy but undaunted, chopping veggies into chunks left just simple steps.
Coat the exterior meticulously with olive oil, salt, rosemary, and melted butter for marinating.
Stuff the cavity with the unevenly chopped vegetables and spices, then sew it shut with needle and thread.
Lay scraps and herbs beneath so the chicken doesn't touch the oven floor directly, then roast in the preheated oven for about an hour.
Done.
It truly wasn't a difficult recipe, and with Lena and Pecha handling the prep, the instructions were straightforward.
Yet Odil's frown persisted—not from complexity, but simplicity.
"Listen, Odet."
"Yeah, sis."
"We're trying to make the world's best steamed horned chicken, right? For the assistant, no less."
"Yep, yep."
"But is this enough? It just feels like stuffing veggies in a chicken and roasting it."
"Huh?"
Odet, pondering her sister's words, seemed to grasp something.
The steamed horned chicken on the table had indeed been delicious.
A texture closer to game bird than common chicken—luxuriously tender.
The thick skin, browned to a golden hue, crunched like a cookie's edge.
Melted fat from beneath moistened the flesh, and the flavors from the stuffed veggies and herbs caressed the tongue in blissful harmony.
To the twins, who remembered that ecstasy, the eight-line recipe seemed insultingly basic.
"Maybe Lena's hiding a secret recipe and didn't tell us?"
"Nah, sis, no way. How close are we to Lena? She'd never lie to us."
"No, remember when she snuck that turtle home and we caught her? If she wanted to, Lena could totally fib to us."
"W-well... maybe?"
Odil furrowed her brows earnestly, expounding her theory to her innocent little sister.
Odet, united in their rare shared purpose of treating the assistant, offered no rebuttals—only thoughtful nods.
"Secret sauces or recipes are like witches' Nature Magic.
Grandma passes it to mom, who passes it to daughter—a closely guarded treasure. That's why they say 'even daughters-in-law don't get the sauce recipe.'"
"S-so... asking Lena for it was super rude?"
"Maybe. So we can't blame her for holding back. The point is, to achieve our goal, we need to add our own arrangement."
Before long, they'd concluded "Lena hid the secret recipe!" Their gazes locked on the horned chicken on the cutting board.
The bird, nearly 50 cm long, lay glistening seductively, oiled and ready—yet stuffing it with mere veggies hardly seemed worthy of its promised glory.
"Sis, shall we stuff it with veggies first? The flavor'll hinge on what goes inside anyway."
"Yeah, but only half! We'll brainstorm better ideas for the rest."
"Got it!"
Odet, snorting with enthusiasm, dashed to the pantry.
Odil filled half the cool, damp cavity with veggies, whole peppercorns, and spices.
"Sis! What about this?"
Odet returned triumphantly, bearing oysters from a box packed in sawdust and ice.
One of Odet's favorite treats: fresh oysters topped with lime, mustard, and vinegar, slurped straight.
She'd once had an oyster vendor from Tarot Town ring his bell and cart the whole load to their outpost.
Moreover, the oysters sold by Tarot vendors paled against those supplied to the Jemernai countess—massive wild ones, palm-sized or larger, bursting with briny fragrance and nutty depth, the "flowers of the sea."
Odet wouldn't pass up such prime ingredients.
"Odet! That's a brilliant idea for once!"
Delicious oysters + delicious horned chicken = ?
Insanely delicious horned chicken.
It had to be.
Odil, who also loved oysters, couldn't withhold her praise for the fresh inspiration.
Odet's nose rose proudly.
"Ahem! Sometimes, a change in thinking is key, sis. Let's... add ten for now."
"Perfect!"
Odet rinsed the sawdust from the shells, grabbed an oyster knife, and deftly shucked them for Odil.
But it still felt lacking.
They could do better.
"Sis, with oysters, don't we need something to cut any gaminess?"
"Was just thinking that. Lemon or lime? They pair great with oysters."
"Yes! Hold on! I'll grab some!"
The cooking experiment veered increasingly astral.
Lena would've grabbed their skirts to stop them, but alas, no one was around tonight to rein in the twins' rampage.
"Remember what we learned in the mortal world? Sweet-salty balance is crucial."
"Add some honey?"
"Hm... sugar might fit better."
"Why not fruit for natural sweetness?"
Confident they'd transcended the original recipe toward culinary greatness—and feeling like master chefs—the twins debated plausibly, tossing in extras.
"Pears would be perfect. I'll julienne them... what?! Odet! The peels won't come off."
"Just toss 'em in skin-on! We can pick 'em out later."
"Fine, whatever. I recall fruit's best flavors are in the peel anyway."
Pears, sliced whole.
Added.
"Odet, doesn't the aroma still feel thin? Just pepper and rosemary so far."
"You're right. Wait... cheese? Cheese sounds good!"
"We're on the same wavelength tonight! Cheese is yummy."
A massive wheel from the larder, grated and stuffed: cheddar.
Added.
"Cheese'll add creaminess, but aroma-wise, still short. Alright, cinnamon sticks for balance."
"Cinnamon sticks?"
"Yep, cinnamon pairs amazingly with pears."
"Sis, you're looking extra cool today."
"This is nothing, Odet. You've impressed me too."
"Hehe."
Bonding warmly over additions, they soon packed the massive horned chicken's belly like a full-term pregnancy.
Sewing the legs together was a workout on the soft, frog-like flesh.
"Alright, that should do it."
Odil pushed a protruding oyster back in through the stitches with her finger.
"This'll be a perfect dish."
Odet brushed melted butter on with a basting brush for even browning.
Hearts pounding with excitement and smug confidence, the two slid the enormous horned chicken into the oven.