The laughter from last night still lingered at the edge of her ears. That atmosphere when everyone had laughed at Elena's words—"Breakfast is an extra charge"—in response to Karl's comment. The faint redness creeping up Alphonse's ears was, for some reason, still clinging to the corner of her mind. Elena pushed open the door to the royal kitchen, ledger tucked under her arm. Morning light reflected off the white stone walls so brightly it hurt to look at. One day remained until the grand banquet of the Fleuresia Kingdom. Today was the final confirmation of preparations. "Good morning." "You came." Karl Herrmann turned around while retying his apron strings. The large man who had served as the royal chef for many years stood at the center of the kitchen like a castle wall, his presence unmistakable. Arms crossed, he stood before the shelves, calling out the prep list aloud. "Consommé base, custard for the pudding, sauce for the appetizers—there's no time before the banquet. Don't stop working." "Understood." Elena set the ledger on the shelf. Milk from Petrika Village had arrived first thing that morning and was already transferred to pots. Karl's prep work was fast. Tracing through the procedures she'd confirmed the day before, Elena lowered her gaze to check the state of the cooling magic circle on the floor. Then came three sets of footsteps. The service entrance swung open, and Sebastian came in with a bundle of red peppers in each arm. His long silver hair was tied back, and the shallow scar on his right cheek gleamed white in the morning light. "Extra peppers! These are a deeper red than yesterday—top quality!" Alphonse followed, carrying a basket of provisions, and Leon came silently behind him with a stack of parchment tucked under his arm. Alphonse, with his golden hair and blue eyes, smiled gently, while Leon, with his black hair and red streaks, observed the corner of the kitchen expressionlessly through his glasses. "I've come to help!" "They all came. Everyone came." Elena looked at the three of them in turn, ledger still open. Karl sighed. He turned back to the pot with the look of someone steeling himself. "We're starting prep. Don't get in the way." "Of course." "Naturally!" "...I will conduct observation only." "Observation only!?" Elena, Karl, and Sebastian's voices overlapped perfectly. "The heating magic circle's efficiency has dropped by thirty percent," Leon said, pointing to a section of the floor. The golden eyes behind his glasses traced the pattern of the magic circle intently. "A minor adjustment will stabilize the output. I'll correct it." Elena responded immediately. "Can you do it in thirty seconds?" "Of course." "...Permission granted." (Something's definitely going to go wrong.) Even as she thought this, it was true that the magic circle's efficiency had declined. The result of continuous use since last night meant the output was fluctuating slightly. Leon, as a specialist in magical theory, would be faster than Elena correcting it herself—it was a rational judgment. Leon knelt on the floor and, with a short incantation, placed his fingertip at the center of the magic circle. Karl Herrmann stood before the pot, reading through the prep list. Sebastian began arranging the peppers on the shelf. Alphonse set the provisions basket on a table in the corner and looked around asking, "Is there anything I can do?" Elena wrote today's schedule into her ledger. Forty-five seconds had passed since activation. "...Huh?" White mist erupted from beneath her feet. It wasn't slow. It wasn't gradual. In an instant, white mist spread across the eastern side of the kitchen floor like a crawling thing, and the next moment her ankles were no longer visible. Fine white frost began falling on the stone tiles. Elena looked at the pot. The consommé soup in the pot had solidified. Not jiggly, not gelatinous. Completely, utterly, a solid block of ice. And in its center—a single ice pillar stood, dignified and upright. "...AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!" Karl screamed. The fifty-something royal chef clutched his head and looked up to the heavens. "My...my consommé...!!" "The output was higher than anticipated," Leon said, standing up as if delivering a post-action report. He pushed his glasses up and observed the frost on the floor. His expression hadn't changed. "Anticipate it!!!!" "If I could have anticipated it beforehand, it wouldn't have failed. Logically, I'm correct." "Go home immediately." "There's still correction to be—" "Go home." "I have a proposal regarding temperature compensation—" "Go home, I'm telling you." "There are three points to the proposal—" "I'll hear all three tomorrow, go home today." "After tomorrow's banquet concludes—" "I'll listen after it's done, now go!!" Leon picked up the parchment and began writing something. "I'll make a note." Elena closed her ledger. She took one deep breath. She looked up at the ceiling and took another. At that moment. With a tremendous CRASH, the service entrance flew open, and Sebastian burst in with bundles of peppers in both arms, shouting "Extra peppers!! Even deeper red than before!!!" —though he'd actually been there the whole time, he'd just taken the bundles outside and come back in. No one asked why. His leather shoe sole caught perfectly on the partially frozen floor. SLIP!!!! "Ah—" Sebastian's massive frame obeyed gravity completely. The peppers in both his arms went flying in all directions, red projectiles raining down on the kitchen floor, walls, and shelves. After a thunderous CLATTER, the silver-haired knight commander landed on all fours. "..." Silence. Only the sound of peppers rolling across the floor echoed. Karl looked out over the scattered peppers and looked up to the heavens. "...I am the royal chef." His voice was quiet. "Is this...a nightmare?" In the kitchen filled with white mist, the consommé ice pillar stood proudly, red peppers scattered across the floor, the knight commander crawling on all fours, and Leon continuing to write on his parchment. Only Alphonse looked troubled, saying "Um..." as he surveyed the surroundings. ━━━ Elena activated the temperature correction spell. She directed her right hand at the floor's magic circle, and as she spoke a short incantation, she channeled magical power from her fingertips. Temperature control in 0.5-degree increments—this precision came from her meticulous nature in her previous life seeping into how she used magic. The kind of zero-tolerance-for-error mindset honed by working in a black company office. It was proving useful in a completely unexpected place. The frost on the floor began melting slowly. "Wipe up the water on the floor. Collect all the peppers." "Got it!!" Sebastian stood up from all fours, grabbed a cloth, and began wiping the floor. Alphonse picked up peppers one by one. Karl turned his attention back to the consommé pot that was thawing. Leon folded his parchment and tucked it into his sleeve. For a while, everyone moved in silence. Then. Heavy footsteps approached from the corridor. "...I should see how things are progressing." Count Dort von Elsberg opened the heavy door and entered the kitchen. This elderly nobleman, known as the leader of the conservative faction of the Jade Round Table, had his white wig perfectly arranged, medals lined up on his chest, and wore an expression that screamed "I've come to bear witness." It was obvious from his face that he'd tried to shut down the Moon Shadow Pavilion multiple times and still didn't think well of Elena today. "I heard that a commoner-born girl had disrupted the royal kitchen—" The floor near the entrance was still slightly damp. His leather shoe sole slid perfectly. "—!?" The count's body tilted sharply. His white wig shifted slightly. His intimidating presence vanished in an instant. He barely managed to grab the edge of the door to avoid falling, but with his posture completely compromised, he managed to squeeze out, "Y-you dare...what is the meaning of—" Sebastian silently offered his hand. "I'll not take the hand of an enemy!!" The count refused sharply. He tried to stand on his own, placing his hand on the wall—but the wall was still slightly damp from the morning frost. His hand slipped. His body slid sideways. With a THUD, the count hit the wall again. A second fall. Elena opened her ledger. She ran her pen across it. "Count, second fall." She recorded it matter-of-factly. "Don't write that!!" The count tried to stand up again. At his feet lay a single red pepper that Sebastian hadn't quite managed to collect. He stepped on it. His direction changed. He hit the corner of the shelf with his side and collapsed for the third time. CRASH!!!! "..." The kitchen fell silent. Elena ran her pen across the page. "Third fall." "Stop recording that!!!!!!!!" Leon took out his parchment and said, "Shall we revise the floor's friction coefficient? Mathematically, we could increase the friction force to twice the current level—" "Don't you do anything!!" "That's fine." "I agree." "I'm against it!!" Remarkably, everyone's opinion was in complete agreement. Leon tucked his parchment away again. His expression remained unchanged. In the end, the count was silently hauled to his feet by Sebastian. The count wrenched his arm away and straightened his jacket. He fixed his wig. No one was laughing—or rather, everyone was desperately trying not to laugh. "...This is humiliation." He muttered in a low voice and headed for the door. His heavy footsteps faded down the corridor. Just before the door closed, a muffled voice leaked through from beyond the wall. "...Pudding...no one fears pudding..." Everyone in the kitchen exchanged glances. After two seconds of silence, Karl's shoulders began shaking silently. Sebastian leaned against the wall and looked down. Alphonse covered his mouth. Leon murmured, "I'll add this to my observation records." Elena simply closed her ledger quietly. ━━━ Cleanup after the count's departure began. The remaining moisture on the floor was wiped away, the last of the pepper debris was completely collected, and Karl checked on the state of the consommé pot that was thawing. Elena confirmed the magic circle's output once more while writing the progress of the prep list into her ledger. Alphonse approached, holding the provisions basket. "If there's anything here we can use—I'd like to help." "Please set it on the shelf." Alphonse nodded and headed toward the shelf. He watched his footing carefully. The floor was mostly dry, but a thin film of ice still remained in one corner. He stepped on it. His body tilted sharply. "Ah—" Elena reflexively grabbed his arm. The momentum brought them closer together. The provisions basket was wedged between them, their bodies narrowing to just centimeters apart. Stillness. Leon's correction still wasn't completely finished. The air in the kitchen was slightly cold, white mist crawling thinly across the floor. In that mist, both their breaths were faintly visible as white vapor. Elena felt Alphonse's body heat transmit through her palm. Even through the thin sleeve, it was warm. The warmth seeped through her palm, and for some reason, her heartbeat skipped in an unexpected way. (Why—) She raised her gaze. Just inches away was Alphonse's face. His golden hair was slightly disheveled, and his blue eyes looked directly at Elena. His smile was as gentle as always, yet she could see his ears gradually turning red. She'd seen it before. Last night too. That redness. For some reason, her retinas had recorded it clearly. Alphonse's breath rose white and thin, seeming about to mingle with Elena's breath. (I need to move away.) She knew that. But her palm, feeling his body heat, wouldn't move. Two seconds, or three. In the cold white mist, for just those few seconds, time seemed to flow differently. Alphonse's body s