The discovery of the sabotage attempt with the adulterated ingredient made Liana raise her guard. If before she acted on instinct and frustration, now every dish, every interaction, became a calculated move in an increasingly complex chess game. Her chef's senses—sharpened to the slightest variation in flavor and aroma—became her greatest allies in detecting danger and reading the intentions of others.
The Imperial Kitchen, under her attentive gaze, revealed itself to be a microcosm of the court. Chefs and apprentices were divided into factions, their loyalties dictated by who offered the most advantages—or who they feared the most. Grimald, the Head Chef, though still arrogant, now seemed more reserved, perhaps intimidated by Liana's newfound aura of quiet authority, or perhaps fearful of the consequences of his own schemes. Liana, in turn, began to identify the faces that seemed most dishonest, noticing patterns in the diverted supplies and the falsified purchase orders.
But most of her attention was focused on Elara's family past. The fragmented memories of the original girl's abuse and humiliation were a constant burden, a weight in her own heart. Elara's biological parents had been the most visible face of cruelty, but Liana sensed something deeper behind the sudden and drastic fall of House Valerius. No prestigious noble family fell from grace so quickly without a hidden hand.
She began investigating in the few spare moments she had. Kael, Theron's personal eunuch and discreet messenger, became her unwitting accomplice. Liana tasked him with seemingly innocent errands:"Kael, could you bring me some of the old spice purchase records? I'd like to compare the aromas."Or: "Is there a detailed map of the Valerius lands in the library? I'd like to plan a menu using regional ingredients."
Kael trusted Liana. He saw the truth in her eyes and sensed the positive change she was bringing to the Emperor. He carried out her requests without question.
It was during one of these excursions to the vast, dusty Imperial Library that Liana found her first solid clue. Among tomes of history and noble genealogies, she discovered an old journal with a faded cover, hidden beneath a pile of maps. The handwriting was delicate but legible. It belonged to Lady Seraphina Valerius, Elara's grandmother.
In the journal, Seraphina wrote about the family's glory days, but also of a shadowy incident: a "Contract of Essence" involving the family's lands and a mysterious figure known only as "The Merchant of Shadows." According to the notes, the contract was a source of wealth—but also of a "growing curse" that drained the vitality of the Valerius lands and fortune. Seraphina seemed to have discovered something crucial before her sudden death. The last pages were filled with frantic scribbles about "bitter perfumes" and "distorted flavors"—something that Liana, with her heightened senses, found disturbingly familiar.
Bitter perfumes? Distorted flavors? Chef Liana felt a chill. The cuisine of her world was bland, yet there was an underlying note of something bitter she couldn't quite identify. Could it be that the decline of imperial cuisine was linked to the decline of her new family?
As Liana delved deeper into her research, tensions in the palace rose. Lord Valerius, the Prime Minister, seemed increasingly agitated by Liana's growing influence over Theron. The Emperor, now more engaged, had begun questioning his own decisions and demanding more detailed reports on the people's condition and the distribution of resources. These changes, however subtle, were destabilizing the conservatives' grip on power.
One day, unaware of Liana's investigation, Theron summoned her to his chambers."Lady Elara," he began, a slight blush on his cheeks, "a certain noble, Lord Balthazar, has been openly complaining about the new 'culinary guidelines' at court. He claims the imperial palate is being 'corrupted' by your 'simple' dishes."
Liana smiled inwardly. Lord Balthazar was known for his opulent tastes and his ties to the corrupt spice merchants. She prepared a special dish for Theron that day: a simple horseradish salad with a sweet-and-spicy sauce. The flavor was bold, direct, and left a lingering sense of freshness in the mouth.
"Your Majesty," she said, serving it to him, "simple dishes, made with honesty, do not corrupt. They purify. Perhaps Lord Balthazar's palate is merely… too used to what is impure."
Theron tasted the dish, and a faint smile appeared on his lips."Purify, you say… Perhaps you're right. I feel like I can think more clearly now."Their trust deepened, evolving beyond chef and master into a quiet, mutual partnership.
Elara's biological family also became a source of headache. Letters from her parents began arriving at the palace, filled with demands for money and status—along with veiled threats to "expose Elara's true nature" if ignored. They were a dangerous link to the past, and Liana knew that to protect her new path, she would have to either sever or control that link.
Her investigation led her to a former servant of House Valerius, a retired gardener named Master Elms, who lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of the capital. He had tired eyes and calloused hands, but a sharp memory. Liana approached him under the pretext of searching for rare herbs. Slowly, patiently, she got him to speak.
Master Elms revealed that the "curse" of the Valerius family began after Seraphina's father signed a contract with a mysterious spice merchants' consortium, led by a faceless man known only as "The Shadow Man." The contract promised limitless wealth in exchange for monopoly over certain "essences" extracted from the Valerius lands—essences which, according to Elms, were in fact the very soul of the soil, the nutrients that gave vitality to crops and living beings. Over time, the lands grew barren, animals sickened, and even members of the Valerius family began to lose their "vitality," becoming apathetic and dull—just like the empire's cuisine. According to Elms, Elara's mother was one of the most affected.
The soul of the soil... drained, Liana thought, shivering. That's why the food is so bad! It's not just lack of skill—it's the absence of vitality in the ingredients themselves!The guilt of "maybe I should've studied something else" finally faded. Her culinary skills weren't useless—they were the only key to understanding and healing the empire's affliction. Elara's fight against her supposed "lack of talent" was actually a fight against the slow poisoning of her very spirit.
But as Liana drew closer to the truth, the danger escalated. One night, as she returned from visiting Master Elms, she was ambushed by two masked figures in a dark alley. They didn't ask for money—they wanted to silence her.
"Stay out of what doesn't concern you, little kitchen rat," one of them hissed, his voice distorted.
Liana managed to defend herself using her agility, sharp instincts—and perhaps a hot pan she happened to be carrying from the kitchen. She escaped with a few scratches, but the message was clear: she was getting too close. And someone, very powerful, did not want her to uncover the truth behind the Contract of Essence.