Even a Princess Knows How to Cook a Little
After confirming that Kyle had fallen into a deep sleep, Victoria quietly made her way to the kitchen. It was tucked away in a corner of his quarters—clumsily hidden, yet the neatly arranged cooking tools were all there.
“...Alright.”
Victoria rolled up her sleeves. She measured the rice, added water, then set it over a gentle flame. Slowly, carefully, she stirred so the grains would bloom softly and evenly. Since this was porridge for a patient, it needed to be tender and mild.
…Even a princess like her wasn’t completely clueless when it came to cooking.
Before her regression, when she had sat alone on the empty throne—having obtained everything, yet feeling nothing but hollow emptiness—this body had secretly slipped into the kitchens. The servants had been horrified that the future empress would personally wield a knife, but she paid them no mind.
…It was all because of one person.
The man she had poisoned with her own hands. The rough, humble bowl of food he used to make for her. The longing had cut so deep that… if she could ever meet him again, this time she wanted to be the one to cook a bowl for him.
With that single, futile wish, she had honed her clumsy skills in secret whenever she could.
“...Mm.”
Victoria tasted it carefully.
…A little bland. She added more salt.
…No, now it was too salty. She added water again, biting down hard on her molars.
…She couldn’t mess this up. This wasn’t a moment she could treat lightly. It was the moment she had yearned for her entire life, the one she had desperately wished for. The chance to cook a bowl for him—the opportunity she had believed would never come again—was finally in her grasp.
How could she possibly let it slip away?
…She would. She absolutely would make it properly.
A grim determination filled Victoria’s eyes. Anyone who saw the woman who would one day rule a thousand-year empire obsessing over a single bowl of porridge would have found it absurd.
After several more adjustments…
The seasoning finally became passable. Now it was time to add the eggs. Holding the ladle filled with the smoothly beaten eggs, Victoria paused to steady her breathing.
…This final step was the most important.
Hadn’t he told her that very thing that day?
…Yes. He had definitely said not to stir it right away. Pour it in a circle over the boiling porridge, wait a moment, then stir gently.
Victoria held her breath and waited.
…And then, just as he had said.
The eggs bloomed across the surface like soft yellow petals, delicate and bright.
“...It’s done.”
A satisfied smile unknowingly spread across Victoria’s lips. Though it couldn’t compare to his skill. The shape was a bit rough, and she had adjusted the seasoning multiple times. But she was confident that the sincerity she had poured into it was second to none.
‘Did you feel this way too…?’
Gazing at the steaming bowl of porridge, Victoria thought quietly. The man who had stood before the fire for someone else that day—had his heart felt the same as hers did now?
The moment that thought warmed her chest—
Tap. Tap.
From the window came the sound of something pecking at the glass with its beak.
…It was a crow.
Feathers as black as midnight. Eyes that gleamed like an ill omen. A messenger bird serving the Rebellion Faction.
The crow had perched on the windowsill at some point and was staring intently at Victoria. When she opened the window, it hopped inside with a flutter. Then it glanced back and forth between the sleeping Kyle on the bed and the bowl of porridge in her hands.
“Your Highness, now is the perfect opportunity.”
The crow’s eyes gleamed with cunning. “The Emperor’s Sword has laid himself in harm’s way of his own accord. If you simply add a single drop of the poison I gave you last time into that porridge, you can cut out the root of all future troubles forever. Come now, quickly. The vial in your bosom…”
“......”
Victoria’s hand froze.
…Now that she thought about it, she had forgotten. She still carried the poison she had received that day in her bosom. The deadly toxin the crow had given her—the one said to be capable of killing even a dragon.
She had once fiddled with it so obsessively… yet at some point she had forgotten it completely.
…And now the crow was urging her to pour it into this very porridge.
Into the bowl she had cooked for Kyle… the one filled with the longing of so many long years…
“...This.”
Victoria’s voice grew chillingly cold.
“Pardon?”
“What does this look like to you?”
“…Porridge, of course. So if you would just add the poison—”
SLAP—!
Before the crow could finish, Victoria’s palm cut through the air.
“Kwaaak?!”
Struck squarely across the face, the crow screamed and tumbled across the floor. Black feathers fluttered wildly in every direction.
“Y-Your Highness?! W-why would you strike this humble one…!”
“Why?”
Victoria slowly looked down at the crow. A fierce blue rage flickered in her crimson eyes.
“You dared suggest adding poison to the bowl this body prepared with such care?”
“B-but that was originally Your Highness’s command…!”
SLAP—!
“Kyaak?!”
“If you flap that beak one more time, I will rip it out by the roots.”
The crow snapped its beak shut. It had no idea what was happening and simply turned deathly pale.
Victoria stared down at it with icy eyes.
…Wasn’t it funny? Only a short while ago, this crow’s whispers had been sweet temptation to her. The cunning encouragement to eliminate the Emperor’s Sword.
…But not anymore.
“Listen well,” Victoria said quietly. “Whatever this body does from now on, simply watch in silence. Do not flap your useless beak and disturb my mood.”
“B-but Your Highness! The great undertaking is right before us—how can we simply leave the greatest threat alive…!”
“Threat, you say.”
The corner of Victoria’s mouth twisted coldly.
“…That is for this body to decide.”
With that, she strode to the window and flung the crow out onto the sill.
“Y-Your Highness?! Wait, please hear me out—!”
Bang!
Victoria slammed the window shut before the detestable beak could utter another word.
……
Beyond the glass, the crow nearly crashed into the closed pane before flapping away in a panic—circling aimlessly through the dark night sky with a bewildered expression.
Caw! Caw! Caaaw—!
“…Noisy thing.”
Victoria snorted and turned away from the window. Then, as if the anger had never existed, her face softened into infinite tenderness as she walked back toward the cooling bowl of porridge.
‘…Here, Kyle. Eat before it gets cold.’
…I opened my eyes.
An unfamiliar ceiling greeted me. Actually, it wasn’t unfamiliar. It was the ceiling of my own quarters. I just couldn’t quite remember how I had ended up lying here.
…Ah, that’s right. I had passed out right there in the banquet hall.
My entire body throbbed as if I had been beaten black and blue. There wasn’t a single spot on my sides or shoulders that didn’t hurt. Still, I was alive. I felt a wave of relief at that fact.
And before that relief could even fade—
“…You’re awake?”
…Huh?
A familiar voice came from beside my head. I slowly turned, and there was Victoria, sitting there. She held a steaming bowl in both hands.
“…Your… Highness?”
“How do you feel? You slept like the dead for a full half-day.”
…Half a day?
Now that I looked, clean bandages were wrapped around various parts of my body. The dried blood had been thoroughly wiped away too.
…Don’t tell me she did all of this?
Before I could even process the thought, Victoria pushed the bowl toward me.
“Here. Eat. You must be empty inside.”
…Inside the bowl was a yellowish porridge.
In that instant, a chill ran down my spine.
…Porridge? Porridge?
The same porridge she had chased after me with on the eve of my departure, saying she would make me ‘a warm meal’? The very bowl that had put to sleep Kyle Rowenheim—the first to die in the original story?
‘…It’s finally here.’
Cold sweat trickled down my back. I had let my guard down too much. While I was unconscious, I had been completely at her mercy. What on earth had she put in this porridge—
“…What’s wrong?”
Victoria tilted her head.
“Why are you staring at the porridge like you’re about to devour a person?”
“…Ah, no. It’s just that…”
“Perhaps.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“…Are you suspecting that I put something in this porridge?”
“…!”
She had hit the nail on the head. I quickly averted my gaze.
“N-no, of course not. How could that be? Haha…”
“Really?”
Victoria stared straight at me. For some reason, a chilling aura seemed to flicker in those crimson eyes.
“Why are you so full of worry? For a man.”
Well, that’s because you’re the one who might poison me…
…was something I couldn’t possibly say out loud.
As I broke out in cold sweat, locked in a staring contest with the bowl of porridge—
I suddenly noticed the state of the room. In one corner were my cooking tools. The ones I usually kept meticulously organized were now scattered in disarray. There were knife marks on the cutting board, lingering warmth on the stove, and several washed bowls turned upside down in the sink.
…This was the trace of someone who had struggled in this kitchen for quite a while.
“…Your Highness.”
“…Mm?”
“…By any chance, did you… make this porridge yourself…?”
In that moment, Victoria’s face flushed faintly.
“…S-so what if I did?”
She turned her head away with an exaggerated huff. But she couldn’t hide the way the tips of her ears had turned bright red.
“You came back in such a terrible state. I couldn’t just leave you with an empty stomach… So this body personally… well… tried to cook something… Even if it may not look like much…”
“......”
“…Of course, compared to your skill, it must fall far short.”
…I was at a complete loss for words.
Just think about it. The princess of the empire… the woman who would one day become its empress… had personally bandaged a mere imperial guard who had returned half-dead. And not content with that, she had stood in the kitchen with her own two hands and cooked this bowl of porridge for him.
The messy state of the kitchen told the whole story—how long she must have struggled with unfamiliar techniques.
Knowing the sincerity behind it, poison or not… I simply couldn’t refuse.
“…I’ll eat it gratefully.”
With trembling hands, I picked up the spoon. Then, with a ‘whatever happens, happens’ attitude, I scooped up a spoonful and put it in my mouth.
…Chew. Chew.
“......”
The taste was… well. To be honest, it was just okay. The seasoning was a bit awkward, and the rice grains hadn’t fully bloomed. Having once stood in a Michelin-starred kitchen, I would generously rate it as average at best. I didn’t think I could possibly give it any higher—
“How is it… Does it taste alright?”
At her voice, I unconsciously looked up.
And the moment I saw her face, I froze.
Victoria sat with her hands clasped tightly together, staring at my mouth as if it held the fate of the world. Like someone waiting for the most important verdict of their life. Her crimson eyes were filled with tension, anticipation, and an unmistakable spark of excitement she couldn’t hide.
My single word could make that expression bloom brightly or wither away.
…The moment I realized that.
The porridge that had tasted merely average just seconds ago…
“…It’s delicious.”
Somehow, it truly felt delicious now.
“Really?!”
Victoria’s face lit up like a flower in full bloom. The prim expression from before had vanished completely. She looked just like a child.
“Is it really delicious? You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“…Yes. I mean it.”
I took another spoonful. This time, I nodded without any falsehood.
“…It’s warm. It’s good. Truly.”
…It wasn’t a lie.
It was a strange thing. On my tongue, it was simply ordinary porridge. Yet with each spoonful, something in my stomach, in my chest, kept growing warmer and warmer.
Probably because what was in this porridge wasn’t just rice and eggs.
“…I see. That’s a relief.”
Victoria let out a sigh as if a weight had been lifted from her. Then she brushed a hand over her chest, a proud little smile blooming on her lips.
“Eat plenty. If it’s not enough, I’ll make more.”
“…Yes.”
With her watching over me, I continued eating the porridge. One spoonful, then another.
…It really was a strange night.
Here I was, eating porridge cooked by the woman who might kill me. And strangely enough, I felt at ease—almost warm, even.
…Well, it wasn’t bad.
The thought that I should run away, the wariness that I should suspect her—somehow, in front of this single steaming bowl of porridge, it felt okay to forget them for just a little while.