"So," I said, crouching down to Clover, who was now happily licking the ramekin clean. "You liked that?"
Clover's head shot up. She looked at me, her olive eyes sparkling, and then she beamed.
"...More!"
I blinked. She talks!
Luna was going to lose her mind.
"More?" I laughed. "I can definitely make 'more.' But hey, I've got a problem, Clover. And I think you're just the bunny to help me."
I pointed to the big, blank wooden sign I'd propped against the wall. "I'm trying to get other kids, like you, to come here so I can make them yummy food. But no one knows I'm here. We need to advertise. And... I don't even have a name for this place."
Clover tilted her head, tapping her chin with a tiny finger in a perfect imitation of me. She looked at the sign... then at my (terrible) drawings of a wolf cub and a panther cub... then she looked at her own nose, which was twitching.
"...Whiskers?" she said, her voice small.
My Top Chef brain, which was built for "fast" ideas, immediately seized it. Whiskers. That's... simple. And cute.
"Little... Whiskers?" I said, testing it out.
Clover's face lit up like a sunbeam. "The Little Whiskers Daycare!"
Sold!
---
Two Weeks Later
The Little Whiskers Daycare was... technically... open.
Luna, after she was done weeping with joy that her sister was now talking and eating, had become my biggest champion. She and a very happy Clover had advertised to the entire merchant's quarter.
It worked... sort of.
I had customers. A few stressed-out squirrel-kin moms would drop off their kids for an hour. A busy badger-kin tailor would leave his son during his lunch rush. It was fine. It paid for ingredients and kept the lights on.
But it wasn't solving my Marquis Grieve problem. The First Snow Ball was 11 months away, and I was still a failed fox with no noble protection. I needed to get the nobles. I needed a B.A.D.
I was angrily scrubbing a pot, trying to decide if I should just give up ... when the bell on my shop door jingled.
I turned around, wiping my hands, a fake "Welcome!" smile plastered on my face. "Hi, the daycare is... is..."
The smile froze.
Standing in my doorway was the most sophisticated, high-end, "you-are-a-speck-of-dust" man I had ever seen. He was impossibly tall and slender, with the graceful, long-limbed elegance of a Crane-kin. He had sharp, intelligent black eyes and grey hair pulled back into an immaculate, tight queue. His features were handsome, but in a cold, severe way—like a statue. He wore a perfectly pressed black uniform that probably cost more than my family's entire (crumbling) manor.
I knew him from the game's wiki. This was Alistair, one of the B.A.Ds chief-of-staff.
He looked at my humble shop, his gaze flicking over my hand-drawn sign, and his perfect, thin nose twitched in an expression of profound disappointment.
"Are you... The Miracle Nanny?" he asked, his voice crisp and condescending.
What a title. I sound like a cleaning product.
"I'm Lady Primrose Thistle, the owner of the Little Whiskers Daycare," I said, drawing myself up as tall as my 5-foot-nothing body could manage. "How can I help you?"
Alistair sniffed. "My master has heard... rumors... of your success with difficult children. He has a... situation... and requires your culinary services."
My heart started to pound. This was it.
"And your master is...?"
Alistair looked down his aristocratic nose, as if I was too stupid to have guessed.
"My master," he said, "is Archduke Cassian Argentis."
I froze. The Snake.
I hadn't even tried to capture a B.A.D. yet, and the Financial Opportunity, the slyest, most scheming route in the entire game—had just walked right through my front door.
My mind raced, connecting the dots. Of course, it was him. Lord Jaeger is too proud and hates foxes. General Khanda is probably still trying to make his son run laps. But Cassian? He's a pragmatist. He heard a rumor about a chef who could handle a picky eater, and he's here to see if that chef can handle his own delicate ward.
This wasn't a desperate dad. This was a test.
I met Alistair's icy gaze, my backbone straightening. "A situation, you say? Please, do tell me more about this... situation."
Alistair's black eyes surveyed my tiny, clean kitchen. "My master, Archduke Argentis, has a ward. His younger brother, Jasper Argentis."
He paused, as if the name itself should explain everything. I stayed silent, giving him my best professional chef listening face.
"The young master is... delicate," Alistair continued, the word sounding like an insult. "He is of a cold-blooded lineage, and as such, he is... always cold."
He gestured vaguely to the warm, sunlit shop. "He finds it difficult to maintain his energy."
"A common issue for cold-blooded kin, I'd imagine," I said, my mind already flipping through recipes. "He'd need his food not just nutritious, but served at a precise temperature to help him regulate."
Alistair's eyebrow twitched. It was the first flicker of interest he'd shown.
"Indeed," he said. "He also has a... highly specialized diet."
"You mean he's a picky eater," I translated.
"I mean," Alistair said, his black eyes fixing on me, "that all the nannies his grace has hired have been... terrified. Of touching him."
He let that hang in the air. I knew exactly what he was implying from the game's lore: Jasper was secretly venomous. The poor kid wasn't just delicate; he was a lonely, walking biohazard that no one was willing to get close to.
My Hard Mode situation suddenly didn't seem so bad. At least my cousins only tried to get me mauled by a wolf.
"So, let me get this straight," I said, tapping a finger on the counter. "You have a cold, picky, and potentially dangerous child that no one knows how to feed, and you heard a rumor that I—a failed tail-less Fox-kin—could solve a problem your Archduke can't."
Alistair looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "My master is a pragmatist. He is willing to investigate any... rumor... that could lead to a solution. The young master's…condition… is a source of great concern."
Aha. So the schemer has a soft spot.
"And the nannies you hired," I continued, "what did they try to feed him? Cold milk? Raw-vegetable plates?"
Alistair's silence was his answer. I almost laughed. They were treating a delicate, cold-blooded child like he was a common mammal. No wonder the poor kid was miserable.
"He's not delicate, he's miserable," I said. "He's cold and he's hungry. He doesn't need a nanny. He needs a chef."
I grabbed a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick, my brain firing on all cylinders. "I'll need a full list of his allergies, his current preferred foods, and his core temperature. Also, what's your kitchen's sous-vide setup? And I'll need a high-precision thermometer."
Alistair stared at me. The bafflement was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp suspicion.
"A... soo-veed?" he repeated, the foreign word sounding ridiculous in his crisp accent. "A... ther-mom-eter? Lady Primrose, what nonsense are you spouting? Are you ill?"
Crap, crap, crap! My modern knowledge had completely taken over. I'd just used modern culinary terms in a fantasy world. Idiot! Think! Explain the concept!
My mind raced, frantically searching my `Beastly B.A.D.s` meta-knowledge. Wait... I remember this! In the Easy Mode route, there's a side-quest where the Lioness Herione tries to help Cassian. She goes to the Imperial Alchemist... and the alchemist complains that he can't find a cure for the young master's condition, even with his most precise Mage-Glass Heat-Gauge.
That's it! And he was using... a controlled alchemical water-bath! They had the tools! They were just using them to find a disease, not poach an egg!
I forced a calm, professional smile, my panic instantly replaced by the thrill of having the cheat codes.
"Ah...my apologies, Sir Alistair," I said. "Force of habit. They're just... technical terms from a text I once read. A thermometer is simply a tool to measure precise heat. I believe the correct term here would be a Mage-Glass Heat-Gauge?"
Alistair's black eyes widened, just a fraction.
Gotcha.
"And sous-vide," I continued smoothly, "is just a method. You use a controlled alchemical water-bath to cook food at a consistent, precise temperature. It's the only way to guarantee a Temperature-Perfect Meal for a delicate... system."
Alistair was quiet for a long, long moment. He was re-evaluating me. The speck of dust was suddenly speaking the language of high-end alchemy. He had come here to test a miracle nanny and had found a culinary scholar.
"A... curious set of tools for a simple daycare owner," he said finally, his voice clipped. "Yes, the Argentis estate is equipped. They are not, however, typically used for eggs."
"Well, they are today," I said, scribbling on my parchment. "I'm not a miracle worker, sir. I'm a professional. The situation you've described is a culinary problem, and I can solve it. But I don't make house calls without a contract."
Alistair's expression was unreadable. "The Archduke," he said, "will require a... demonstration. You will come to the Argentis estate tomorrow at 10 a.m. You will prepare one... Temperature-Perfect Meal for the young master."
He pulled an obscenely heavy bag of coins from his coat and placed it on my counter. "This is for your time and ingredients. Do not be late."
He turned, his tall frame pivoting with practiced grace, and walked out of the shop.
I looked at the bag of gold. It was more money than my aunt had given me for my entire severance.
My heart was pounding, but not from fear. From excitement.
The Little Whiskers Daycare had just landed its first B.A.Ds It was a test, just like I thought.
And as a Top Chef, if there was one thing I never failed, it was a test kitchen.
I stood there, staring at the closed door, the bell's gentle jingle echoing in the silence.
Then I looked down at the bag of gold on my counter.
I untied the drawstring. Clink. It was heavy. I poured a few coins into my palm. They were solid gold, stamped with the Argentis crest: a serpent coiled around a scale.
"Well," I muttered to myself, a shaky, slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. "Looks like I just skipped the grinding phase."
The Snake. Of all the B.A.D.s to show up first, it had to be the scheming one. The one the game-wikis warned me about, the bad romance route that was just as likely to end in a cage as it was a happily ever after.
But my Top Chef brain was buzzing, overriding my gamer anxiety.
Alistair had been a test, but the real problem was Jasper Argentis. A cold-blooded child. Always cold, picky, and... venomous. Of course the nannies were terrified. They were probably offering him chilled milk and apple slices, treating him like a mammal. The poor kid was probably in a state of constant, low-grade hypothermia.
He didn't need a nanny. He needed a private chef with an alchemist's precision.
My solution from my quest log was still spot-on: Temperature-Perfect Meals. Food warmed to the exact degree his body needed. Food that would warm him from the inside out.
I grabbed the bag of gold. This was a test, all right. But it was also an opportunity.
The Wolf Lord (Rurik) hated me on sight. The Tiger General (Rajah) was an honorable, but stubborn, alpha type who wouldn't be the first to ask a failed fox for help. The Merman King (Caspian) was a high-stakes gambit I hadn't been able to pull off yet.
But the Snake, the most pragmatic of them all, had just hired me.
This is it, I realized. This is the move that unlocks the others.
If I, Primrose Thistle, a tail-less nobody, walk into the Argentis estate and succeed where every other expert has failed... I won't be a rumor anymore. I'll be a legend.
The Wolf Lord might be proud, but he's also desperate to fix his Demon Cub. The Tiger General needs someone to handle his Hyperactive son.
Once they hear that I cured the untouchable Jasper Argentis, they won't care that I don't have a tail. They'll be begging me to take their kids.
My grin was sharp. Okay, Alistair. You want a demonstration?
I snatched my worn-out cloak from its hook and flipped the Little Whiskers Daycare sign from Open to Closed.
"I'll give you a performance."
I marched out the door, the bag of gold heavy in my hand. I wasn't just going to the market to buy ingredients.
I was going to the alchemist's district to buy my own Mage-Glass Heat-Gauge (I wasn't about to trust theirs to be properly calibrated), the best copper pots in the capital, and every single exotic spice, rare herb, and Fluffy-Yolk egg I could find.