The Bewitching Girl
I carefully stroked the high-end oven I'd never seen before.
"Hmm... what should I make first."
Maybe start with Morning Bread, just like the batch I gave Guild Leader Cha Eunwol.
It's the safest choice, after all.
I immediately pulled out the premium strong flour and dumped it into the massive mixing bowl. Measured out the milk, butter, and yeast, then mixed it all together.
Kneading Lv. 3 activated.
Splat, splish. Knead, knead.
I pulled the dough—now one big lump—from the mixing bowl and folded and turned it over on the counter.
Premium flour really made a difference; the way it clung to my hands felt entirely different.
"Hehe... grrr..."
Every time I worked the dough, the sensation at my fingertips made these pleased sounds slip out unbidden.
"Grrr..."
Without any conscious effort on my part, my ears flicked back, and my tail slipped out from my pants, swishing happily.
Cheon Yura propped her chin across the counter, watching quietly.
Her eyes were half-lidded, a soft smile playing on her lips.
Baek Arang, tail swishing with flour dusting it, utterly focused on the dough.
Ears and tail swaying like temptation itself, accompanied by those delightful purring sounds from Baek Arang.
'...Ha, seriously... when she grows up, she's gonna break a lot of hearts.'
Even now, wagging her tail without a clue. Once she learns how to really play the vixen, who in the world could resist this seductive little thing?
Just taking in the sight of Baek Arang made all the stress and fatigue Cheon Yura had built up melt away like snow.
'Hmm... how do I reel in this kitten so she never leaves my side...'
Before long, I'd finished the dough. I divided it up, placed it on oven pans, and slid them into the preheated oven.
Whirr.
As the oven hummed to life, I dusted the flour off my hands and approached Cheon Yura.
"Morning Bread's baking for now. It'll be ready soon."
"Yeah. Good work."
"Guild Leader, got any other bread you're craving?"
At my question, Cheon Yura blinked, letting out a lazy breath as she pondered.
We hadn't known each other long, so I had no clue what she liked—better to ask her directly.
After a long think, she ventured cautiously,
"Hmm... think you could do rye bread?"
"Rye bread?"
"Yeah. Mom made it a few times when I was little. It was surprisingly good."
Cheon Yura glanced at me afterward, gauging my reaction.
Rye bread wasn't exactly tough, so why the nerves?
The tricky part was the low-temp, long-fermentation process—but hey, I've got Kneading!
For me, morning bread or rye bread? Same difficulty.
"Of course! Just give me a sec."
I thumped my flat chest proudly and scurried back to the counter.
Cheon Yura chuckled softly, watching me huff and puff as I hauled the rye flour over.
As soon as I started kneading, the rough, nutty aroma of rye flour wafted gently through the bakery room.
I finished quickly, divided the dough, shaped it into hefty rugby-ball forms, and set them on the counter.
"Now... just need to score 'em."
I grabbed the razor-thin coupe knife and approached the dough, then paused.
Across the counter, Cheon Yura was staring at it like it was the most fascinating thing ever.
Maybe because she'd requested it herself, but she seemed way more locked in than during the morning bread.
'Hmm... is it that exciting?'
Her obvious anticipation made me smirk as I held out the knife.
"Guild Leader."
"Huh? What? Need something?"
"Wanna try scoring it yourself?"
"......Me?"
Cheon Yura's eyes went wide, clear panic setting in.
"I can? I've never cooked anything before. What if I mess it up?"
The woman who soared through the Tower, spooked by a loaf of bread.
I snorted and shook my head.
"Psh, the hard part's done. Just a light slash on the surface. No way to screw it up. C'mon over."
Nothing beats doing it yourself for that extra flavor.
At my urging, she shuffled hesitantly to my side.
I placed the small, sharp coupe knife in her hand.
"See the blade? Lay it on the surface, relax your grip, and slash diagonally—nice and shallow. Don't stab deep."
"...Not too deep."
Cheon Yura swallowed hard, steadying her trembling arm as she glared at the dough.
It was the most serious expression I'd ever seen on her.
...Someone might think she was performing surgery.
Her hand moved carefully.
Slash.
The sharp blade glided smoothly across the surface, revealing the inner dough just a peek.
"Like this? Is it right?"
She froze the knife, looking down at me with anxious eyes.
She looked just like a kid terrified she'd botched it.
I chuckled and nodded.
"Yep. Nailed it. One more, right below."
"Really...? Okay, one more then..."
Relief bloomed into a smile on her face.
Cute.
Buoyed by confidence, her next slash was bolder—and smoother.
Sliiiice.
She admired her work, then shot me a sidelong glance, eyes like a puppy begging for praise.
"How's this one? Better than the first, right?"
"Ooh... you're a quick study. Perfect."
I grinned and nodded; she beamed proudly, setting the knife down with care.
I gently slid her personally scored rye dough into the oven.
Leaning on the counter, Cheon Yura watched eagerly as it absorbed the heat and slowly swelled.
Having helped made her way more hyped than before.
"Takes a bit to finish baking. Try the morning bread first."
I grabbed one from the cooling rack—heat mostly gone— and sliced it in half.
Crisp.
The soft crumb tore along the grain, steam curling up.
'That's the stuff.'
The sweet flour scent had my ears perking right up.
I slathered the cut side with butter and heaps of strawberry jam, then handed it over.
"Here, say ahh."
"Huh...? I-I can feed myself, y'know."
"Just say ahh."
She took the bread hesitantly and took a careful bite.
Crisp.
Crispy crust gave way to cotton-candy-soft crumb. Rich, nutty milk and butter mingled with sweet jam, filling her mouth.
"......!"
Her eyes went huge, a blissful smile spreading across her face.
"This is... insanely good. It just melts away."
At her rave review, I shrugged with exaggerated swagger, tilting my chin up.
"Obviously. I baked it."
I flicked my tail high.
Some days, you just wanna bask in the shameless praise.
With our bellies full, words failed us; we just stared blankly at each other for a bit.
'Kinda... awkward, but not really...'
Maybe 'cause we weren't alone together much. No clue what to say.
Ding!
Our awkward moment shattered as the oven timer blared—the rye was done.
That ding was my savior right then.
"Looks ready."
Cheon Yura, who'd been guarding the oven, lit up and reached for the handle.
"Hold on—it's hot, use gloves..."
Too late; her hand clamped the pan.
Clunk.
"Just pull this out, right?"
"...Not hot?"
"Huh? Nah... doesn't feel hot at all?"
She set the pan casually on the counter, utterly unfazed. Steam hissed faintly where it met the water droplets.
But her hand? Not a single red mark.
...Do S-ranks just not feel pain?
I gawked, flicking my gaze between her hand and her serene face.
...Handy, though.
"What's up? Was I not supposed to take it out right away?"
"Nah... just wild."
I shook my head and stepped up to the counter.
The crust was rugged, her score lines gaping invitingly.
"Hmm, lemme test if it's baked right."
I snatched a fresh loaf, balled my fist, and slammed it dead center.
"Yap!"
Thwack!
My fist plunged into the crusty rye.
"Arang...?!"
Cheon Yura's eyes bulged in shock at my sudden move.
Watching her lovingly scored bread take a punch, her pupils quivered.
The loaf crumpled like paper under the impact—but only for a moment. It sprang back with insane springiness, perfectly round again.
"......Huh?"
She stared blankly, eyes darting between the bread and me like she'd seen a ghost.
"Yup... perfect bake!"
This test never lies.