19. Seria's Cooking Skills
The Lord's Castle was in utter chaos. The doctor came rushing in, and the Lord paced the room, his face ashen. I knelt by the bed, staring only at the Young Master's pale face.
"Hmmm..."
The doctor checked the Young Master's pulse and flipped up his eyelids, his expression grave. My heart shrank. Was it the food from yesterday that had gone bad? Or could it be some incurable disease? Every possible worry flooded my mind.
"How is it? Is it serious?" the Lord asked in a trembling voice.
The doctor set down his stethoscope and adjusted his glasses. "My lord, you said your son knows magic, correct?"
"That's right."
"Hmmm. I haven't treated many mages, but this matches the symptoms they often experience."
"Wh-what symptom is it? Surely it's not something that can't be cured..."
"Oh, no, nothing like that. It's just ordinary mana exhaustion."
"Mana exhaustion?"
"Yes. It seems he's been overusing magic lately. He's still growing, so his mana circuits aren't fully developed yet, and forcing mana through them caused an overload."
Ah.
Memories flashed through my mind. The Young Master used magic nonstop whenever he had a chance, even with his fragile ten-year-old body.
I should have stopped him.
Guilt washed over me. Instead of clapping and cheering every time he excitedly said, "Check this out!", I should have made him rest. What kind of escort knight fails to even check her lord's condition?
"No threat to his life. A few days of solid rest and good nutrition, and he'll recover quickly. No need to worry too much."
"Phew..."
The Lord sighed in relief, stroking his chest. Only then could I breathe again.
The doctor left to prepare medicine, and the Lord patted my shoulder with a heavy sigh. "Seria, don't blame yourself too much. It's just that Kalian's such an odd one."
"...I'm sorry."
"I've got urgent business to attend to, so I must go. Can you stay by Kalian's side?"
"Yes, leave it to me, my lord."
I nodded solemnly. Once the Lord left, only the Young Master and I remained in the room. I wrung out a damp cloth and placed it on his forehead. It quickly warmed from his fever.
"Ugh... so cold..."
The Young Master curled up, mumbling. I tucked the blanket up to his chin and brushed back his sweat-matted hair.
"Young Master, I'm here. Please don't hurt."
I hated seeing him in pain. I'd rather take it for him.
"Ugh... hungry..."
He murmured in his sleep. Even while sick, he still felt hunger.
He needs to eat something. Porridge at least.
And not just any—it had to be packed with nutrition, love, and care. I considered asking the head chef, but then it hit me.
I should do it myself.
This was my fault. So, I had to fix it. With my own hands, I would restore his strength. Besides, wasn't I his personal knight? Taking care of the lord's meals was surely a knightly duty. Probably.
I steeled my expression and stood. "Wait here, Young Master. I'll bring you the ultimate restorative meal."
I arrived at the kitchen. Luckily, lunch prep was over, so it was empty. Porridge? Piece of cake. Just rice, water, and boil. I'd watched the Young Master cook a few times over his shoulder, so it couldn't be hard.
I confidently tied on an apron and pulled my hair back tight.
Gulp.
I swallowed once. "...Alright. Let's do this."
But plain rice seemed too basic. The doctor said nutrition was key. I scanned the ingredients. Vegetables and meat caught my eye.
"First, prep the ingredients."
I put carrots and onions on the cutting board. Gripped the knife. Different from my familiar wooden sword, but a blade was a blade.
"Hah!"
Chop chop chop chop!
My flashy knife work began. Wrists honed by swordsmanship snapped. The carrots didn't even scream before turning to...
Powder.
"Too fine?"
I tilted my head at the unrecognizable carrot dust. Well, for porridge, easy to digest was good.
Next, meat. I grabbed a chunk of beef. To mince it...
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
I pounded it with the flat of the blade. The board cracked, but I ignored it. The meat must be tender now. Probably.
"Hmm, still missing something."
For nutrition, I added whatever. "Mushrooms for vitality. And other veggies."
Color looked dull. Needed green—spinach in. Purple? Purple onion in.
"Now boil."
I dumped rice and everything into the pot. Water... enough to cover? Lit the fire.
Whoosh!
"Weak flame."
The Young Master made instant high heat with magic. I wouldn't lose. I shoved more logs into the furnace and fanned it. Flames roared like hellfire.
Bubble bubble. Pop! Pop!
Lava boiled in the pot. Color was weird. White rice, orange carrots—why so murky?
"Eh, it'll be fine."
Taste matters most. Time for seasoning. Salt. Salt is key.
"Salt... this one?"
Two white powder jars. One salt, one sugar. I pondered, then picked the finer grains.
Finer dissolves better.
I dumped in generously. Might be bland, so a spoonful of honey too. He likes sweet things like me.
"Done."
Visual... unique. Broth dark brown, chunks a mushy mess. Like swamp mud, but the sweet smell was promising.
Nutrition maxed.
Proud, I carried the tray back. "Young Master, time to eat."
He weakly opened his eyes at my voice. "...Seria?"
"Yes. I brought porridge. Eat this and regain your strength."
I propped him up. He stared dazedly at it.
"What... is that? Why's it that color?"
"Special nutrition porridge. I made it myself."
"...You?"
His eyes shook. He looked uneasy, so I scooped some, blew on it.
"Um, Seria. Suddenly not hungry."
"No. You must eat to recover. The doctor said nutrition is vital."
"Eating that feels like it'll curse me forever..."
"Ahh~"
I forced the spoon in. He resisted with a "Mmph!", but patients obey caregivers. It slid into his mouth.
Gulp.
Silence. 1 second. 2. 3.
His face turned porridge-brown.
"..."
"How is it? Tasty?"
"...Seria."
"Yes."
"You... holding a grudge?"
"Not at all? Full of love and care."
"Feels more like murder... cough."
He clutched his chest. Overwhelmed by deliciousness? Or too hot?
"Sweet... too sweet... and salty... no, what is this taste..."
"Added sugar and honey. Sugar's best for vitality."
"...Kill me."
"Pardon?"
"No, the porridge is killer... taste."
Tears welled as he forced it down. My care worked.
"More. I made a whole pot."
"...Seria."
He grabbed my wrist, trembling. "If I finish this... I'll really die."
"Don't be weak! Finish to recover!"
"No, for real..."
No. Just picky from no appetite. I persisted, spoon after spoon. He ate to survive. Half bowl down, he collapsed back asleep.
More cold sweat, but full belly, probably.
Night deepened. Castle asleep. I sat by his bed all night. Fever down a bit, still hot. I wiped his forehead with a cold cloth.
"Mm..."
He muttered in sleep, brow furrowed in pain. I gently took his hand. Small, hot. Terrified it might cool forever.
"Don't go."
I whispered unconsciously. "Don't leave me."
A world without him? Unthinkable. Back to cold loneliness? Worse than death. No—even a cold place with him beats a warm one without.
"Wake up and tease me. Call me dumb, anything..."
Tears welled. I pressed his hand to my cheek. Warmth spread.
"Young Master..."
Family. Lord. My whole world.
Tension eased. Eyes grew heavy. Must stay awake. But sleep overtook me. I dozed off, head on bed, clutching his hand.
How long? Rustling woke me.
"...Mm."
Morning sun through window. And.
"Sleep well? Seria."
Young Master awake, looking at me. Color much better. Fever down.
"Y-Young Master!"
I jumped up. "You okay? Head? Stomach hurt?"
"Fine. Your nursing cured me."
He grinned, ruffling my hair. So tender, I nearly cried.
"Thank goodness... really."
"But Seria."
"Yes?"
"That porridge yesterday."
His face turned seriously weird. "Next time, leave it to the head chef auntie. Got it?"
"...Not tasty?"
"Well... like previewing hell's flavors. Gave me burning will to live, though."
"..."
Face burned; I bowed head. He giggled, pinching my cheek.
"Kidding. Thanks, Seria. You saved me."
"...Next time, tastier."
"No, please don't. Promise me."
We burst out laughing face-to-face. His laughter filled the room. Finally, morning returned to my world.