Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Out of that building… and turn left…"
Soran flinched and hurried out of the small, mysterious hut behind Lord Kim's main residence, one hand pressed to her chest as her heart thrashed wildly, threatening to leap straight out of her ribcage.
She let out two long breaths, trying to chase away the excitement flooding her veins.
That little building… I thought it was some kind of storage room?
She quickened her pace, following the direction he had pointed out, her heartbeat still uneven from their unexpected encounter.
Her wrist felt warm....as though the touch of his hand still lingered there, refusing to fade.
Out of that building… and turn left…
His instructions echoed in her mind.....half command, half poetry.
As though pushing her away…and gently guiding her…both at once.
She exhaled, cheeks still faintly flushed.
(Goodness… why does every man here look like he stepped straight out of a painting?)
She shook her head, trying to fling away the foolish thought.
After following the narrow, winding walkway, like the twisting paths of a garden , she finally found it:
The real kitchen of the mansion.
The air was thick with the scent of simmering ginger and radish.Metal clanged.A wide wooden door swung open and shut.Inside was a chaos that resembled a battlefield where the weapons were ladles, fire pots, and echoing shouts.
Soran hesitated at the doorway.Step inside?Or turn back and pretend she was simply looking for the latrine?
A round woman in a worn apron spotted her and immediately waved a ladle in her direction.
"Hey! You, little lost puppy right there! Yes, you! Are you the new one?"
"Uh… y-yes, ma'am," Soran replied softly, stepping in with the caution of a cat entering a dog's den.
"In that case, don't just stand there staring! Grab that basket of radishes and start peeling!"
Before she could even think of objecting, a small mountain of vegetables was shoved into her arms, followed by a wobbly wooden stool that seemed to have survived some ancient battle.
"Y-yes, ma'am…" Soran mumbled, lowering herself onto the stool.
She began peeling quietly, her hands moving slowly at first while the world around her spun in a whirlwind of kitchen chaos,a world entirely its own, governed by its own frantic rhythm.
And amidst that chaos…
Her thoughts drifted again.
That young master…
She could still hear his voice, calm like an autumn breeze.His composed expression.The way he looked at her as though she were merely a passing cloud…
Yet beneath that cool exterior, she had seen something, a fleeting softness, a shadow of sadness.A hint of a story left untold.
Slice!
"Ouch!"
Pain snapped her back to reality. She had nicked her finger.A boy peeling vegetables nearby let out a tiny laugh.
"First day? Consider it the welcoming ritual. Everyone spills a little blood on their first radish here."
Soran forced a smile."Wonderful. Then I suppose I belong to this kitchen now. Though I'd rather not be initiated with a cut…"
The round-faced head cook, hearing the commotion, waddled over.
"If you faint, I'll toss you into the soup pot! For extra flavor!"
Soran blinked rapidly."E–excuse me… what?"
She quickly hid her injured finger in her sleeve, terrified.
The whole kitchen burst into laughter.The tension lifted instantly.
Soran glanced left, then right, bewildered by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Before she knew it, she was laughing softly as well, wrapping a handkerchief around her small wound.
She sat quietly, letting the chaotic rhythm swirl around her,wild, noisy, overwhelming…
And strangely warm.
(This place… isn't as terrible as I thought.)
The bubbling pots.The sharp tang of spices.The constant bickering and shouting across the kitchen,
None of it matched the bleak image she had feared.
She felt embarrassment, fear…and the lingering presence of a mysterious young man with unreadable eyes…
But here, in this noisy kitchen steeped in ginger-scented warmth,she felt something unexpected,
Comfort.
(Maybe… maybe I really can survive in this place.)