Sona carefully laid out a slice of cake for me and another for Serafall, her movements precise, almost ceremonial. The silverware clinked softly against the plate as she turned around to fetch spoons from the cabinet. Just as she did, Serafall leaned closer to me, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper despite the wide grin on her face.
"Don't make a weird face when you eat it," she said brightly. "And if you feel like you're about to die, just tap me on my thighs."
"…What?" I asked.
She only laughed, bubbly and carefree, as if she had just shared a perfectly normal piece of advice. I didn't understand what she meant—why her thighs, of all things? —but something in her tone told me not to question it too deeply. I nodded anyway. It felt safer that way.
Sona returned with two spoons and began cutting the cake with careful precision. The icing on top was pure white, smooth, and elegant, just like something you'd expect from the Sitri family head. But the moment the knife parted the cake, my eyes narrowed.
The inside was… dark.
Not pitch-black, exactly. It was a strange blend of deep blue and black, almost like a night sky stirred into batter. It looked unnatural. Mystical, even. I tilted my head slightly.
"Is this… chocolate-blueberry?" I asked cautiously.
Sona kept her usual calm expression, but I caught it—a faint blush blooming on her cheeks for just a second before she looked away. Maybe I was imagining it. Or maybe I really wasn't.
As she placed a slice onto my plate, curiosity finally won out. "So… what's the occasion?"
She paused, spoon hovering in her hand. "There is no special event," she said. "I simply wanted to bake."
Serafall nodded enthusiastically. "Yup! Just baking!"
Sona continued, her voice steady but softer than usual. "Normally, my sister wouldn't allow anyone else to have this cake. She's very… possessive of my cooking. However—since you know—given that you and I are engaged, I thought it would be appropriate to share it with you."
Ah. So that was it.
I nodded slowly, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. Despite everything—the secrecy, the tension—this felt personal in a way that mattered. I picked up my spoon, scooped a modest bite, and placed it into my mouth.
The moment it touched my tongue, my soul tried to escape my body.
It tasted like surströmming.
No—it's a little behind surströmming. Somehow sweet and fermented at the same time, like someone had taken a dessert and dared it to become a biological weapon. My vision blurred for a split second. I swallowed with heroic effort and forced my face into something resembling a smile.
"…It's… unique," I said.
I tilted my head slightly. "What is it? " I need to know what it is.
"A new fusion cake," she replied calmly. "I won't reveal the ingredients. It's a secret."
A dangerous sentence.
"…Have you tried it?" I asked carefully.
Before Sona could respond, Serafall jumped in at lightning speed. "Nope! Sona-chan doesn't like sweets. Not even a little. She bakes everything for me."
Hearing that, Sona said with disappointment. "She won't allow me to eat it even if I insist. Since my parents forbid me to cook because I am a high-class devil, I need to go to my sister's mansion for baking."
I don't think you being a high-class devil is the reason why your parents forbid cooking.
"But my sister loves my cooking. So I occasionally cook for her. I still don't consider myself a good cook," Sona said.
I slowly turned to look at Serafall.
So she was the reason.
The sole test subject. The survivor. Or maybe the accomplice.
Serafall beamed, utterly shameless. "It's amazing once you get used to it!"
"I feel like 'getting used to it' shouldn't be a requirement for cake," I muttered, my tongue still suffering.
Sona looked away again, her blush deepening just a little. "I thought it would… improve with honest feedback."
I looked at the slice in front of me, then at Sona, then at Serafall—who was already happily digging into her own piece without hesitation. She already acquired resistance, I see.
But still… I raised my spoon again.
After all, engagements came with responsibility.
"It's good," I said with difficulty.
My gag reflex is working overtime to prevent the toxin from entering.
Hearing my praises, Sona beamed a smile. "If you want, I can cook for you daily after, you know, our marriage."
"Oh no." The answer was instinctive.
*Cough.* "You are still head of the Sitri family. So I don't want to burden you," I said.
~~~
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