Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Lessons in Humanity (3)
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Never before had there been an explosion in the prison.
Just how massive was this ambush to kick up all that thick black smoke?
'An attack from the Holy See? Or retaliation from the Walter Group?'
I bolted toward the prison, clutching the gifts in both hands.
The guards were huddled on the first floor, fidgeting anxiously.
They were just ordinary civil servants—no way they could take on intruders—so I'd ordered them to hold position there.
'Looks like I can't let my guard down until I fill that remaining 45% stability.'
I sprinted down the hallway at full speed.
And when I threw open that massive door...
"Is everyone okay?!"
I shouted at the top of my lungs, undeterred by the acrid smoke clawing at my throat.
My face was deadly serious, etched with the grim memory of all those bad endings I'd witnessed.
"…………."
The prison cafeteria was a total wreck.
The first thing that caught my eye was Myoran, her face smeared pitch-black with soot.
'What kind of bomb packs enough punch to leave a seasoned Sword Sage in such a state?'
The more devastation I took in, the higher my anxiety spiked.
Anje's situation was just as bad.
If Myoran was covered in black grime, Anje was dusted head to toe in white powder, staring blankly ahead.
This was the first time I'd ever seen a saintess look that dumbfounded.
'Did they use some kind of hallucinogenic dust too?!'
Switching into wartime mode, I pinched my nose with my sleeve.
Then I waved through the smoke, checking for other survivors.
"Cough... cough...!!"
Fred and Nix were hacking away in the corner of the cafeteria.
Conan and Clea were peeking out from behind the podium.
True to their military backgrounds, they'd hunkered down well behind barricades.
The princess stood by the window, gaping at the scene in disbelief.
And Jinjo was...
Sprawled flat on the cafeteria floor, flopping around.
"This stuff tastes so bad, you'd never know four people died eating it..."
In the midst of that grim chaos, I bellowed at the top of my lungs.
Aimed at whoever had dropped the bomb and fled.
"Who the hell were they?! Which bastards dared hurl a mana bomb at my prisoners?!"
No one answered—maybe because they'd never seen me this genuinely pissed before.
What the...? Why was everyone so quiet...?
"I get it. My cooking was the mana bomb."
"……."
The silver-haired saintess and black-haired Sword Sage standing in the center of the cafeteria looked utterly dejected.
Their eyes took on that wistful gaze straight out of a tragic novel heroine.
'Damn, they must be in total shock to make faces like that. Now I'm starting to feel sorry for them.'
"Myoran, you okay? Don't worry—I'll catch the culprits and make them pay."
"……."
"Anje, you're not mad, right? No bursting heads even if you are—I'll drag 'em in and beat confessions out of them myself."
"……."
I rested my hands on my hips and let out a deep breath.
The smoke was finally clearing, revealing the cafeteria's full extent of damage.
"So where are the culprits? Anyone see which way they ran?"
I turned to Conan and Clea—they looked the least roughed up.
They slowly raised their fingers.
'What? They're still in here?'
I channeled mana into my hands.
The moment I spun toward where they were pointing...
"……?"
My eyes went wide like a stunned moron as I stared blankly.
At the white-powdered saintess and soot-smeared Sword Sage.
"What."
Thinking I'd seen wrong, I glanced at the princess next.
She was pointing at them too with her free hand—the one not gripping Landruin.
At the black cat and white snake.
"So you're saying you two got into a cooking contest... and this happened?"
I asked as I mopped the floor with a rag.
The two women sat primly in their chairs, nodding silently.
This was the first time I'd ever seen Anje sitting with her legs neatly together like that.
They both wore apologetic looks I'd never seen before.
"Accidents happen when you're cooking. It's fine—no need for the long faces."
Fred and Nix were wiping down the windows.
Grand Elder Dark—who'd arrived late and gotten the rundown—was giving Fran a piggyback ride to cheer her up.
"How's the candy taste?"
"It's sweet and nice, but I can't really taste it with all the burnt smell vibrating through the cafeteria!"
Jinjo sulked alone with her arms crossed, shooting me looks like I should chew the pair out more.
"……."
Normally, those two would've grabbed Jinjo and crushed her spirit in a heartbeat.
But today, their self-esteem had taken a nosedive—they just pursed their lips and stayed quiet.
This could be my chance to really rein them in.
For the first time, I cleared my throat to lay down the law with these walking disasters.
"Still, be more careful next time. Little mistakes can snowball into big disasters."
I pointed at their contrasting hair colors.
"Especially you two. You know how much fallout one slip-up from you can cause, right?"
That's how you instill responsibility.
Next time they think about going off-script, maybe they'll actually pause to think first.
"……Got it."
"We'll watch it next time."
The Sword Sage and saintess mumbled in small voices.
'Did it work?'
Good. Taming them bit by bit like this should do the trick.
I patted their heads, brushing off the soot and flour.
"……."
As I scolded the prisoners, someone approached from behind.
A familiar hourglass silhouette cast its shadow.
"Derek Minster, don't be too hard on the prisoners."
The princess approached me, beaming with benevolent warmth like the sun itself.
I hadn't noticed amid the chaos earlier, but her vibe today was worlds apart from her usual self.
"They're just practicing to become human, aren't they? Show some understanding."
Unlike her old high-handed days, she was dressed modestly today.
The knee-length skirt and fully buttoned blouse made quite the impression.
Of course, the buttons were straining and the skirt hem was taut as hell.
But overall, she radiated ladylike elegance.
"True enough. That's why I'm letting it slide this time—while we clean up the cafeteria."
"Yeah, looks like the cafeteria's out of commission for today."
Camillia casually set a tote bag from her hand on the table.
Like it was no big deal.
But how could anyone ignore those thick, bulging curves on blatant display?
"What's this?"
"Oh, just some packed lunches I made."
"Packed lunches...?"
I opened the bag with wide eyes.
Revealing steaming-hot bento boxes.
"Your Highness made these herself?"
Isn't this a waste of talent?
With all the state affairs on her plate, where does she find time to learn cooking...?
And the quality was leagues above what she'd thrown down against Clea before.
"Yep. Had to escort my uncle—no, Grand Elder—today, so no dinner at the palace. Prepared these to eat efficiently."
Her eyes said it was all for duty, planned down to the last detail—no other motive.
She stood with hands behind her back, gazing down leisurely at the flour-dusted prisoners.
"……."
Red and green eyes glared coldly up at her from beneath tousled hair.
The princess met them boldly with her piercing blue gaze.
Oblivious to the standoff, I fussed solely over the lunches.
"That's a ton of food. Were you planning to eat all this yourself?"
"I've got big hands, you know. Since the cafeteria's trashed, why don't we all share?"
It was exactly two portions—perfectly measured.
Neatly grilled bulgogi and roast duck.
Smoked salmon salad and meat stew to boot.
It was the kind of wholesome home cooking a wife might whip up.
"Ooh..."
My eyes sparkled for the first time in ages.
Grand Elder—giving Fran her piggyback—perked up at the sight too.
'To think my niece has fallen this far...'
His wrinkled face looked deeply moved, like that's exactly what he was thinking.
I recalled the rumor: she'd recently locked up the imperial kitchen staff to force them to teach her cooking.
Camillia put a finger to her lips in a 'shh' gesture, begging me not to spill.
"Looks delicious. But sharing with everyone might be tough."
"I can just call in some catering chefs for the rest."
The princess tilted her head, as if the others didn't matter.
"No need. How could I accept more favors after such thoughtful lunches?"
I glanced at the two prisoners, their eyes sharpening at the skill gap.
Unlike my earlier scolding, I asked gently this time.
"I'll handle the subpar cooking. With the prisoners."
With the prisoners.
At those words, the saintess and Sword Sage looked up in unison.
"Mind helping me out, you two?"
"With us?"
"Yeah. Let's cook together this time."
"But I..."
Myoran mumbled sullenly, the one who'd turned quail into a chemical bomb.
Anje sighed, haunted by memories of her human-flesh pancake abomination.
"It's fine. I'll guide you step by step."
I extended my hands to them slowly.
The prisoners stared blankly at my palms before murmuring softly.
"If you're asking that nicely, guess I have no choice."
"Alright, I'll give it another shot."
Thankfully, they bounced back fast and grabbed my hands together.
Even their lips quirked up just a tad.
They wore secretive expressions, like they'd been waiting for me to say exactly that.
'Nah, must be my imagination...'
"Let's start with Anje? You were making pancakes earlier, right?"
"Yeah."
I faced the red-haired saintess across the freshly wiped table.
I tied an apron around my waist first.
"……."
Anje stared fixedly.
Meanwhile, I dumped flour generously onto the table.
"Let's start with the batter. Honestly, pancakes are all about the batter."
"Got it."
Anje reached tentatively for the white powder.
I poured in milk, and she kneaded it obediently.
If I had a daughter, would it feel like this?
Seeing the usually vicious woman so meek with the dough felt kinda cute.
"Like this?"
"Yep, good job. I figured you only knew how to sever heads clean, but you're mixing batter great too."
My praise brought a flicker of haughty pride back to her face.
"Just teach me a little and I pick it up fast. Earlier was my first try, so I messed up."
"Sure, sure. Now let's add eggs and thin it out?"
Anje's red eyes focused intently on the soft dough.
A whisk would've done it, but she hadn't thought of that—mixing by hand stitch by stitch.
"Here, move your hands firm like this. I'll help."
I stepped behind her, extending my hands.
Our hands overlapped as we slowly kneaded together.
"……."
Everyone in the cafeteria noticed.
The princess and Myoran's expressions soured—especially the princess, whose eyes were losing their spark.
"Kinda tricky. Like this?"
"No, put more strength in your fingers."
As Anje's large hand intertwined with mine...
She snuck a glance at the princess.
As if to say, you thought I'd just take it lying down like an idiot?
'That snake of a woman...'
Camillia's full red lips twitched faintly.
Even as we kneaded, the psychological warfare between the two raged on.
But from my perspective, teaching diligently, it was frustrating as hell.
Why glance at the princess mid-mix?
Pouting 'cause I reined her in with the lunches earlier?
I decided to punish her lapse in focus.
While she looked away, I dipped my index finger in flour.
"Anje."
"You called? Ack!"
The moment she turned...
I smeared flour right on her perky nose.
"Wh-what...?"
"Keep looking elsewhere while cooking? Focus."
The saintess's flour-dusted face flushed red.
She let out a giggle at the tall man's childish prank.
Then coughed lightly as powder tickled her throat.
"Sorry. Making up for yelling earlier with a little fun."
The cooking mood warmed up nicely.
This should dispel the prison's tense air, right?
I bantered with her, smiling contentedly.
But...
For some reason, the blue text floating in the air offered only a brutal warning.
The warden and saintess stood alone at the table, gazing at each other and chuckling.
The other women's eyes—watching the pair prep dinner like newlyweds—were the coldest on earth.