The Sovereign looked at him, then at the boy’s bleeding hands, and finally at the broken door covered in countless sword marks.
Behind the Sovereign, the guards gasped.
"He broke the door?"
"But how—?"
Their voices died the mont the Sovereign slightly turned his head toward them.
Silence fell.
After a mont, the Sovereign focused on the child again.
Though years had passed, the boy now looked like he was in his late teens.
Still, he trembled under the man’s gaze.
"Were you trying to escape?"
The boy didn’t respond.
He stood there, eyes lowered.
The Sovereign took a step forward.
The boy flinched.
Another step, and then another.
With each movent, the boy seed to shrink into himself.
When the man placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, everything changed.
They were no longer in the dark corridor.
The surroundings had shifted to a dirt road lined with poorly built mud houses.
Nearby, a crowded building buzzed with noise.
The boy glanced at the Sovereign.
His horns were gone, his eyes now black, and he wore simple, rugged clothes.
The man walked toward the noisy building.
The boy hesitated.
The Sovereign stopped, glanced back, and motioned for him to follow. The boy obeyed, jogging to catch up.
Inside, it was a tavern.
People were drinking more than eating.
Those who did eat didn’t look too happy about it.
"What is this? My wife cooks better than this."
"You’re not even married."
"Exactly."
The Sovereign walked up to the counter.
The boy followed quietly.
Behind the counter stood a young woman, just past her teens.
She had striking black and gold hair, golden eyes, and a commanding presence.
Her beauty was undeniable, but her current expression was of irritation.
She leaned on the counter, tapping it with a finger as she glared at the custors complaining about her cooking.
She was clearly cursing them silently.
When she noticed the Sovereign, her scowl vanished.
A more serious look replaced it.
"Follow ," she said, walking to the back.
The Sovereign and the boy followed her.
Inside the backroom, she stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.
"What is it? Say it quickly. I don’t have ti to waste. My business is suffering."
The Sovereign sat down on a chair.
The boy remained standing, glancing around the room.
He was nervous but also curious.
The woman noticed him, frowned slightly, then turned back to the Sovereign.
"Do you rember our contract?" he asked.
"You wanted the knowledge to create an artificial Devil. In return, I would get your firstborn," she repeated the contract.
The Sovereign nodded.
"Back then, I ca to you because, despite being called the disgrace of witches, you were also known as the most knowledgeable. I believed you could give what I needed. That’s why I offered sothing as important as my firstborn."
He pointed to the boy.
"This is the Devil I created. He’s a failure, just like you."
"What!? How dare you call —"
"I shouldn’t have expected better from soone labeled the weakest among witches."
He stood up before she could protest.
"This Devil was made from my blood. He is my firstborn. You can have him."
Then he vanished.
The young woman seed ready to scream, but instead she clicked her tongue.
"Your father is incredibly annoying," she muttered.
The boy looked down, silent.
She glanced at him.
"Anyway, I don’t need you. I only asked for his child to keep him away. I never expected him to actually accept the contract back then, much less bring you here. You can leave."
The boy didn’t move.
He gripped the hem of his shirt.
She frowned.
"What?"
"I... I don’t have anywhere to go."
"And?"
He stayed silent, unsure what to say.
"Alright," she sighed. "If you can prove you’re useful, I’ll consider keeping you. Otherwise, I’ll throw you out."
His mind raced.
He was good at swinging his sword, but the Sovereign had been disappointed in that.
This woman probably would be too.
Then he rembered the people in the tavern complaining about the food.
Maybe...
"I... I can cook."
She blinked.
Then, surprisingly, she didn’t toss him out.
"...Okay. Let’s test that. If you can cook sothing decent, I’ll hire you."
"Then I can stay with you?" he asked, hopeful.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she led him to the kitchen.
The ingredients there looked unfamiliar compared to the ones he had seen in the Sovereign’s palace.
It alard him, making him realize his plans of copying the cooks from the palace was no longer viable.
She stood silently for a while, watching him.
Then she turned and walked out.
"Bring it to when it’s done."
Alone in the kitchen, the boy tried to rember what he had seen palace cooks do.
His hands moved almost on their own.
He chopped, stirred, and boiled.
Eventually, he was left staring into a pot filled with a strange-colored liquid.
It slled... odd.
He wasn’t sure if it was edible.
Before he could try again, the woman called from the front.
He hesitated, then took the pot to the counter.
She frowned at it.
"Is that even edible?" she muttered.
Just then, one of the regulars walked up to complain.
"This food is trash," the man grumbled.
The woman looked at him, then at the boy’s pot.
A smile appeared on her face.
"Sorry about that. Here, try our special dish. Please think of it as our compensation," she said sweetly.
She swapped the plates, giving the man the boy’s food and taking back the old one.
The custor looked skeptical, but after so urging, he took a bite.
"It’s not great," he muttered, as he chewed. "But it’s way better than what you served earlier."
The woman froze.
"It’s... better than my cooking?"
The boy blinked.
He turned and looked at the plate that had been returned to the counter.
He tasted it.
It was bad.
Horribly bad.
He suddenly understood why the custor had called his food better.
His wasn’t good.
It just wasn’t as awful.
Sothing about the realization made him laugh.
It started as a small chuckle, but it quickly grew, and before long, there were tears in his eyes.
He wiped them, exhaling with a strange kind of relief.
Then he looked at the woman across from him, who seed thoroughly unimpressed.
"So am I hired?" he asked, still grinning.
She gave him a look that said she wasn’t amused, but after a few seconds, she nodded, albeit begrudgingly.
Ti passed quickly after that.
The boy stopped aging not long after.
Physically, he remained young.
But his cooking improved steadily.
Within a few years, he’d beco so good that people ca to the tavern just for his food.
"Moraine, how many tis are we going to keep moving? Let’s just settle in one place."
"Mhm."
"Moraine, are you listening to ?"
"Mhm."
Seeing that she clearly wasn’t, he pulled away the plate of food he had cooked for her.
Instantly, her deanor changed.
She tried to reach for the dish like he was holding her child hostage.
"Give it to . I’m hungry."
"You can’t be serious. How many tis are you going to wake up at midnight because you were hungry? You are doing it every day now."
"It’s not my fault! It’s your fault. Why do you cook so good?"
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