The bed was still warm when Xavier stretched, his arm sliding behind his head as he let out a low groan. "Ugh… I'm famished."

Seraphina, still tucked against his side with hair spilling across his chest, arched a brow. "Famished already? After everything you put me through this morning, I'm the one who should be saying that." Her lips curled into a teasing smile as she pushed herself up, brushing her silvery strands behind her ear. "I'll call the maids to prepare something."

But before she could rise, his hand caught her wrist gently. "No need," he said, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "There's something I've been wanting to introduce you to anyway."

Her head tilted slightly. "Introduce me… to food?"

"Yes." He sat up with that infuriatingly confident smirk of his. "Let me cook up something simple—an omelette."

' With my Celestial Patriarch class, my cooking skills should be… well, better than anything I managed before.' he thought silently.

What he said piqued her curiosity. Nobles rarely stepped foot into their own kitchens, much less prepared their own meals, and yet he looked completely certain, almost eager.

"An omelette," she repeated, studying him with skeptical amusement. "You make it sound like an ancient secret dish."

"It is a secret where I come from," he replied, already pulling on his robe. "Trust me. You'll like it."

She pursed her lips, watching him with narrowed eyes. Then she gave a small laugh and slipped out of bed after him. "Very well. I'll allow it. But if you burn the kitchen down, Xavier, I'll have Lloyd scold you in my place."

"Please," he scoffed over his shoulder as he led her out, "I'd cook Lloyd himself into the omelette before letting him scold me."

That earned a laugh from her, soft and musical, carrying them both down the hall.

The kitchen was wide, warm, and filled with the smells of morning—fresh bread cooling on racks, herbs hanging from hooks, the faint smokiness of a fire still crackling in the hearth. At first the servants bustled about, but when Seraphina lifted her hand, her tone turned soft yet absolute: "Leave us."

They froze, glanced between each other, and then bowed, retreating from the kitchen one by one. The room fell into silence, save for the faint popping of firewood.

"Well," Seraphina said, settling gracefully at a side table, chin resting on her palm as her eyes gleamed with mischief. "The stage is yours, my 'Celestial Chef.'"

Xavier chuckled. "Watch closely. You'll see something no noble table has ever served."

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. The basket of eggs was the first thing he reached for, testing their weight with practiced ease. Then his hands drifted across herbs, vegetables, and strange spices unique to this world. Even if he had never seen some of them before, the knowledge flowed into his mind instinctively—how finely to chop them, when to add them, which flavors would balance the richness of eggs.

His movements were smooth, almost unnaturally so. Crack—eggs fell into the pan without a single stray shell. Chop—vegetables diced into perfect cubes, each slice uniform as if measured. Heat—he controlled the flame with subtle tweaks, tilting the pan at just the right moment to coat the surface evenly.

It was mesmerizing.

Seraphina, watching from her seat, found her lips parting slightly. She had seen him fight thieves and crush bandits without breaking a sweat, but there was something strangely intimate about the sight of him here—shoulders relaxed, hair falling forward as he worked, every motion precise yet unhurried. Not warrior's strength, not guard's loyalty—something domestic, grounding, and disarmingly human.

By the time the omelette was halfway done, the aroma began to bloom.

It wasn't just pleasant. It was intoxicating. Savory, rich, with a gentle sweetness from the caramelized vegetables. Even Xavier himself blinked in disbelief, inhaling as the scent curled around him like silk. "Hah…" he muttered to himself. "In my past life, I wasn't bad, but I wasn't this good. This is… different."

He flipped the omelette, the motion sharp and clean. No sticking, no mess. Just a golden fold of perfection sliding across the pan. The sizzling hiss carried through the quiet kitchen, and the aroma thickened, making mouths water though only two people were there to breathe it.

At the side, Seraphina shifted in her seat. The noble mask she wore so often cracked into something softer, more instinctive. She rose, walked quietly to his side, and rested her hand lightly against his back. He stiffened just slightly in surprise, then relaxed as she leaned in closer.

The warmth of her lips brushed his cheek.

Her whisper followed, low and teasing yet laced with genuine hunger: "I can't wait to eat what you're preparing, love."

Xavier froze for a beat, then a slow grin spread across his face.

Xavier's grin widened at Seraphina's whisper. "Careful," he murmured without looking away from the pan, "if you distract me like that, I might add too much salt."

She laughed softly, the sound like wind through crystal, and leaned her chin against his shoulder. "I don't believe that. Not with how smoothly you've been moving. It's like watching an artist paint."

"Artist, huh?" He tilted the pan, letting the melted butter coat the edges before folding the omelette neatly in half. "Then you're my critic. Be gentle."

Her fingers brushed across his arm, tracing the veins beneath his skin. "I don't intend to be gentle at all."

Xavier smirked at the words, but his eyes remained focused, controlled. The Celestial Patriarch perk wasn't just guiding his hands—it was as if every sound, every aroma told him what to do next. He sprinkled in the finely diced herbs, knowing by instinct exactly how they'd release their flavor at this stage. The sizzling shifted from sharp to mellow, a signal that the egg had reached golden firmness while still soft inside.

The aroma deepened, thick and savory.

Seraphina inhaled, her lips parting unconsciously. She'd eaten feasts prepared by master chefs, yet nothing had ever made her stomach tighten in this way before the dish was even finished. "It's unfair," she whispered against his ear. "You fight, you heal, and now you cook better than my entire kitchen staff."

Xavier finally glanced at her, catching the flush across her cheeks. "Maybe I'm just trying to impress you."

"You already have." Her words came too quickly, then she smiled to cover it, brushing her hair back. "But don't let it go to your head, Xavier."

He chuckled, sliding the omelette gently onto a warmed plate. "Too late."

Instead of serving it immediately, he bent over the cutting board again, preparing a garnish. A few thin slices of fruit, a drizzle of honeyed sauce—details he hadn't thought about before, yet now came to him effortlessly. He arranged them around the omelette until the plate looked like something from a noble banquet.

Seraphina blinked. "You said you were making an omelette. This looks like something that belongs at a royal festival."

Xavier wiped his hands with a towel, shrugging as though it was nothing. "What can I say? The skill set comes with presentation."

The kitchen door creaked. A curious maid had cracked it open, the smell having drawn her back despite orders. Xavier glanced her way once, and she squeaked before retreating, the door slamming shut.

Seraphina's laugh spilled again, rich and full. "You're turning my household upside down, Xavier. The maids will be gossiping for days."

"They'll survive," he replied easily, picking up a second plate. "This one's for you. I'll make my own after."

"No." She touched his wrist, stopping him. "We'll share. You've worked for both of us already."

Xavier studied her for a beat, then nodded, sliding the fork into her hand. "Then taste it. Tell me if my 'ancient secret dish' lives up to the hype."

Seraphina sat, her posture still elegant even in the informal setting, but her eyes betrayed her eagerness. She cut into the omelette; the knife slid through like silk. The inside was soft, fluffy, flecked with herbs and melted cheese that stretched with each slice.

The first bite touched her tongue.

She stilled.

The rich, savory flavor unfolded slowly, layer after layer—the buttery smoothness of the egg, the sharpness of the herbs, the gentle sweetness of the sauce balancing it all. It was warm, comforting, but also… alive, almost glowing, as though the dish itself carried some reflection of the man who made it.

Her eyes closed as she exhaled softly. "Xavier… this is…" She opened her eyes again, lips curving helplessly. "Unbelievable."

He leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching her reaction like a predator enjoying the proof of his strike. "Good?"

"Good doesn't even begin," she admitted, laughing lightly. She took another bite, slower this time, savoring it. "It's ridiculous. I've never tasted anything so… perfect."

Xavier smirked. "Then don't get used to it. I wouldn't want you demanding omelettes every morning."

"Oh, I will," she said, teasing glint in her eye as she held the fork up. "You've doomed yourself, Xavier. From now on, you're both bodyguard and chef."

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