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