Evening crept softly through the mansion, the fading light bleeding gold through half-open windows.
Ren trudged into the living room, his shoulders sagging after spending the whole day cleaning a storeroom that could've doubled as a dust museum.
he stopped.
Vaspera sat alone at the long dining table, posture perfect, expression unreadable.
In front of her lay a single piece of dry bread and a cup of plain water.
Ren blinked. "Wh-where's the dinner?"
Without even looking up, she replied, "You're looking at it."
Ren gawked. "Whaaat?! You call that dinner?"
Vaspera tore off a small piece of bread, voice calm as frost. "Eating flavorful food dulls the body's discipline. This is sufficient."
He stared at her in disbelief. "You eat like this every day?"
"Yes," she said. "Any objection?"
Ren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know… eating something tasty once in a while won't destroy your discipline."
She raised a brow. "Are you lecturing me about food now?"
Ren smiled faintly. "Not lecturing. Just—tonight, let me cook."
For the first time since they'd met, Vaspera actually blinked in surprise.
"You… cook?"
Ren nodded. "My grandmother taught me a few things."
He glanced toward the kitchen. "Do you even have anything edible stored here?"
"I restock every month," she admitted, "though I rarely touch it."
Ren grinned. "Perfect. Then I'll make you the best dinner you've ever had."
---
✦
The kitchen filled with the quiet rhythm of motion—water bubbling, knives tapping, a faint hum from Ren as he worked.
The orange glow of a nearby oil lamp bathed his face, tracing soft light across his white hair.
Vaspera leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, silently observing. She told herself she was merely supervising, but her gaze refused to leave him.
Why does he look so focused? It's… irritating.
The scent of simmering broth drifted through the air—warm, nostalgic, and utterly unfamiliar to her.
She watched the way he moved: calm, deliberate, gentle.
That scent... I'd forgotten food could smell like this.
---
"Madam Vaspera?"
Her trance shattered. She straightened instantly. "What?"
Ren chuckled. "Dinner's ready. You can sit—I'll serve you."
She hesitated before agreeing. When the bowl touched the table, steam curled upward like thin ghosts of warmth.
She eyed it suspiciously, then took a small bite.
Her eyes widened.
The flavor was rich and alive—soft noodles, savory broth, a hint of spice that made her chest ache with something unfamiliar.
She set the spoon down quickly. "It's… ok."
Ren smiled. "Glad you liked it."
For a heartbeat, time stilled.
The lamplight flickered across his face; his smile—pure, unguarded—seemed to carry a warmth that didn't belong in her frozen world.
Vaspera's gaze lingered longer than she meant to.
"Madam Vaspera?" Ren tilted his head. "You stopped eating. Is it not tasty?"
Her cheeks tinged pink. "N-nothing. It's fine." She resumed eating a little too quickly.
When the bowls were finally empty, a soft calm settled between them.
Ren stretched, yawning. "Well, that wasn't so bad—"
"Tomorrow. 8 a.m., Backyard."
Ren blinked. "Huh? Why?"
Vaspera crossed her arms, eyes glinting. "Training."
Ren froze. "Heh—wait, what?!"
---