Five minutes had elapsed since Elian had found himself alone in the reception room, his mind still preoccupied with the weighty matters at hand. The tranquility of the room was abruptly broken when the door creaked open, and a maid stepped into the room. She positioned herself discreetly beside the door, her eyes occasionally darting towards Elian, stealing furtive glances at the young man.
Elian couldn't ignore the maid's persistent presence and turned his gaze towards her. He promptly surmised that she must be Lys's replacement; otherwise, there'd be no reason for her presence here. However, a perplexing question arose in Elian's mind:
'Why is she so happy?'
Despite his intellectual prowess, he couldn't decipher the source of her exhilaration. Her attempt to conceal her excitement was evident, but she lacked the professional composure of her predecessor, Lys.
Seeking a temporary escape from the weight of his thoughts on Karma Balance and the dungeon, Elian turned his attention to the maid, hoping to decipher the source of her infectious cheerfulness.
"Greetings," Elian began, striking a casual and friendly tone that reflected his aversion to formality. "I believe we haven't had the pleasure of a proper introduction. My name is Elian. May I inquire about yours?"
In a voice laced with a hint of nervousness and a barely concealed smile, the maid introduced herself, "I... I am Isabella." Her hands trembled slightly as she spoke.
"Isabella?" Elian repeated her name, a faint recollection stirring within him. He had heard this name countless times before, yet he could never quite match a face to it. A moment later, realization dawned upon him, and he inquired, "Are you my personal chef?"
Elian recalled Lys mentioning Isabella's name on multiple occasions, indicating her role as the one responsible for his culinary delights. Beyond her culinary duties, she also shared a close bond with Lys.
Despite her culinary expertise and extended tenure, Isabella had never crossed paths with Elian due to his rigid daily routine. His life revolved around the lab, dining room, bedroom, and the occasional training sessions with Marcus and the Thorne Knights. However, Elian's habit of surrendering his body to El during these sessions had resulted in him missing out on these interactions. Consequently, Elian's social circle was confined to his parents and Lys.
Having savored her culinary creations for years, Elian was well aware of Isabella's exceptional chef skills. However, a question lingered in his mind:
"Why is a chef serving as a maid?"
Sensing Elian's bewilderment, Isabella promptly clarified, "Miss Lysandra has entrusted me with the role of her substitute."
"Oh?" Elian's eyebrows arched in surprise. It was true that every member of the family was assigned a personal assistant or maid for constant companionship, except for those with solitary tendencies like Julia. This replacement system had been established to ensure that a primary maid's absence did not disrupt the family's routines.
Recalling Lys's slumbering state, Elian formed a resolute decision. 'I must speak with Julia... and Sylv,' he thought to himself, standing up from his chair.
Noticing the maid's readiness to follow him, Elian remembered that he had yet to unravel the reason behind her exuberant mood. However, his mind was preoccupied with more pressing matters. With a dismissive tone, he instructed, "No need. You're dismissed."
Elian was about to depart when he heard her voice, infused with a hint of apprehension, "Why? Did I do something wrong?"
His steps faltered, taken aback by her unexpected question. He had anticipated a brief farewell, not an emotional response. His gaze fell upon her, and he couldn't help but notice the glistening tears welling up in her eyes, a testament to her genuine hurt by his abrupt dismissal but,
'The f*ck? Do I even know you, woman?' Elian silently cursed to himself. He was already in a foul mood due to the myriad of concerns weighing on his mind, and now a woman he had just met was on the verge of tears because of a polite dismissal?
Despite the bubbling frustration within him, Elian's inherent kindness prevented him from lashing out. He maintained a polite demeanor and replied, "No, you haven't done anything wrong. I simply need some time alone."
This was true as Elian had a genuine desire for solitude at the moment. Isabella, comprehending this, immediately responded, "I understand. I'll make myself scarce. Please allow me to follow you, as I genuinely admire you. Rest assured, I am bound by strict soul oaths and will never betray your trust."
Elian's astonishment was palpable. Since when had she developed this admiration for him? He barely knew her, so what could possibly be the basis for her sentiments? As for the matter of trust, that was indeed the primary reason he preferred her absence. She hadn't yet earned his trust, and he felt uncomfortable having someone he barely knew constantly shadowing him. However, he harbored no ill will towards her. In fact, he quite appreciated her culinary skills, as she was the only one who could consistently satisfy his discerning palate. A thought suddenly struck him:
"Did you purposefully learn to cook exotic dishes to gain my favor? Or is it just a mere coincidence that your cooking aligns perfectly with my preferences?" Elian inquired, a hint of surprise lacing his tone. Upon closer reflection, he realized that, with the exception of the first few weeks, he had never found a single flaw in her culinary creations. Her dishes were consistently exquisite, catering perfectly to his demanding taste.
What further baffled him was her ability to regularly introduce two to three new recipes every week. How was this possible? He was certain that she hadn't obtained these recipes through the Chef Association, which meant they were either her original creations or passed down from someone else. The latter possibility seemed unlikely considering her humble background.
This implied that, up to this point, this woman had crafted at least two hundred recipes, each one perfectly tailored to his 'peculiar' tastes. This was an astounding feat, even by his standards. Even he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for someone with such culinary prowess.
"I... I trained specifically to cater to your palate," she confessed, a hint of anxiety clouding her voice, fearing his disapproval of her methods.
"How? How did you manage to create such an extensive repertoire of recipes?" Elian inquired, genuinely fascinated. How could someone develop so many recipes without incurring exorbitant expenses? After all, recipe creation involved a process of trial and error, and most chefs would be content with a hundred attempts for a single successful dish. Yet, Isabella had amassed a collection of over two hundred recipes. He was eager to learn the secret behind her remarkable feat.
Isabella, initially anticipating a reprimand, was pleasantly surprised by Elian's inquisitive gaze. Seizing the opportunity to impress him, she divulged her secret: "I have the ability to identify, analyze, and harmonize any ingredient simply by relying on my sense of smell. This means that once I deciphered the 'scent profile' that appeals to you, I could effortlessly combine other ingredients to replicate that desired aroma. The process is more intricate, but that's the essence of it."
Isabella stole a timid glance at Elian, hoping to gauge his reaction to her revelation. She noticed his pensive expression, indicating that he was deeply considering her words. Elian's mind was abuzz with comparisons between her olfactory gift and his own runic eye.
'Hers is not rune-oriented but rather attuned to the physical world, unlike mine, which allows me to perceive the runic realm but nothing else,' he mused. 'This means that her gift has far greater applicability in the real world, while mine is primarily limited to runesmithing. But then again, it depends on whether she can discern scents beyond ingredients. However, that's not the immediate concern.'
His thoughts shifted to Isabella. 'What should I do about her?' He pondered.
With what he just learned, Elian had no doubt about the genuineness of Isabella's admiration. The reason behind her admiration, however, was irrelevant. The pressing question now was whether he could trust her.
He could simply dismiss her, but the thought of being deprived of her culinary expertise was unappealing. Moreover, he feared that a harsh rejection would stifle her enthusiasm, potentially diminishing the quality of his meals. The idea of coercing her into cooking was also out of the question, as such an act would conflict with his moral compass.
Nevertheless, Elian couldn't bestow his trust upon her solely on the basis of her culinary skills. Soul oaths, while effective, have many loopholes. There was a possibility that she had been bribed by someone seeking to manipulate him.
"Sigh, I suppose I have no other choice," Elian acknowledged, faced with this perplexing dilemma. He resolved to resort to a method he had previously wanted to avoid until he had accumulated more Karma: utilizing the book. However, to avoid making a rash decision, he posed a crucial question:
"Is she still bound by the soul oath? Does she only have good intentions?" he inquired, omitting the mention of 'mislead' this time. He considered the possibility that she had been subjected to hypnosis, implanting false memories. While it seemed extreme, he had nearly lost his life due to his past reluctance to take extreme measures.
[Understood.]
[Advice: You could verify this yourself.]
"Hm?" Elian raised an eyebrow at the unexpected advice.
[Suggestion: Would you like to personally confirm it?]
"Yes?" Elian responded, uncertain of what to anticipate.
[Permission granted.]
[Activating Host's 'Eye of Contracts' skill on their behalf.]
With a surge of energy, the book responded to Elian's command. The runes etched on one its pages glowed with an ethereal light.
Elian felt a familiar sensation washed over him, akin to the activation of his runic eyes. However, instead of perceiving the ethereal runic realm, his vision remained unchanged, save for the faint, colorless string emanating from Isabella's abdomen. This vertical thread stretched towards the ceiling, obscuring Elian's view of anything beyond.
Intrigued, he instinctively focused his gaze upon the string, and a prompt materialized before him.
⬩⬥⬧ Soul oath⬧⬥⬩
◿ Soul◺
⌜Name | Isabella⌜
⌜Race | Human + N/A⌜
⌜Existence Level | Lowe⌟
⌜Soul Quality | Medioc⌟
◿ Terms◺
⌜N/A⌜
◿ Time Limit◺
⌜N/A⌜
◿ Enforcer◺
⌜N/A⌜
◿ Ongoing Contract◺
Edited by MoonsterDark
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