The Argentis estate was exactly what I'd expected from the Snake route: cold, silent, and obscenely wealthy. The floors were black marble so polished I could see my own terrified, failed fox face in them. Alistair led me through hallways that felt more like a museum than a home, his shoes making no sound.
He finally stopped, not at a kitchen, but at the doors to what looked like a private parlor. "The Archduke will observe the demonstration here. The young master finds the main kitchen... too drafty."
He opened the doors. The room was dark, opulent, and chilled like a wine cellar.
And there he was.
My brain, which had faced down Michelin judges and health inspectors, completely stalled.
Hot.
That was the only word. Archduke Cassian Argentis was hot.
He was lounging on a dark green chaise lounge, one long leg casually propped up. He looked about 23, just as the game lore suggested, with deep purple hair, so dark it was almost black. It was longer than I expected, tied back loosely with a black ribbon.
He wore an elegant, high-collared black silk shirt that made his pale skin look like porcelain. And his eyes... his eyes were a brilliant, cold, liquid gold. For a heartbeat, his pupils thinned, an instinctive snakekin reaction to the sudden light...before relaxing again.
He was the schemer, He looked like he could bankrupt a small country with a single, bored sigh.
He didn't get up. He just watched me with those golden eyes, his expression one of faint, aristocratic amusement. "So," he said, his voice a smooth, cool tenor. "This is the 'Miracle Nanny.'"
Before I could answer, a small, weak cough came from a bundle of blankets piled near the fireplace...which wasn't even lit.
Alistair glided over and adjusted the pile. "The young master is ready."
I ignored the hot, smirking Archduke and walked straight over. My patient.
My Top Chef mode slammed into place.
This was Jasper Argentis. He was tiny, maybe five years old, and looked like a porcelain doll on the verge of cracking. He had his brother's dark purple hair, but his was a messy, sleep-tousled fluff, and his skin was a pale, sickly grey.
He was shivering under a mountain of cashmere, his big, listless eyes, the same startling golden color as Cassian's, barely tracking me. He was the definition of cute and miserable.
"Hello, Jasper," I said, my voice gentle. "My name is Primrose. I'm a chef. I heard you were feeling cold. I'm here to make you something warm."
Jasper just shivered.
"A-ha," I said, turning to Alistair, all business.
"Okay, so we're starting from scratch." I pulled my own Mage-Glass Heat-Gauge from my apron...I'd bought it this morning with Cassian's own money; I wasn't about to trust theirs. "As I said, this is a culinary problem. The kitchen staff brought in the double boiler, yes? And a bowl of Fluffy-Yolk eggs?"
Alistair nodded, clearly baffled by my audacity. "They are prepared."
I set up my station on a side table. Cassian watched me from his chaise, his amusement growing. He clearly thought this was a farce.
I went to work. I used the controlled alchemical water-bath, measuring the heat with my gauge. I carefully cooked the protein-rich egg until it was just set, perfectly warmed enough to be hot for a cold-blooded child, but not hot enough to shock his system.
At the same time, I heated milk, infusing it with a pinch of Sun-Cinnamon and Starlight honey.
This was a Temperature-Perfect Meal.
"Sir Alistair," I called out. "I'm ready for the young master."
Alistair looked at me, then at Cassian. Cassian just gave a lazy go-on wave.
Alistair stiffly walked over, preparing to take the tray.
"No," I said.
He froze. "I beg your pardon?"
"I'll do it," I said. "He's cold and he's hungry. He doesn't need to be terrified on top of it."
I picked up the small tray. I walked over to the bundle of blankets. Jasper flinched. The nannies were scared of him, but I knew from the game lore that he was just as scared of them.
I sat on the floor, ignoring the priceless rug. I set the tray down.
"Hey, Jasper," I said softly. "I'm not gonna touch you. But I made you this. It's really warm."
I pushed the small bowl of spiced milk toward him. The smell; warm, sweet, and comforting...hit him. His little nose twitched.
He slowly, painfully slowly, reached a small, pale hand out from the blankets. His fingernails were... a little sharp. He touched the outside of the bowl.
His eyes widened. Warmth.
He pulled it closer and took a tiny sip.
The reaction was instantaneous.
A flush of color; actual, living, pinkish color...rushed into his grey cheeks. He took another, bigger sip. Then another. He drained the bowl in seconds.
He looked at the perfectly warmed, jiggly egg. He ate that, too.
When he was done, he sat there, breathing. A tiny bit of steam was rising from his lips. He wasn't shivering.
He looked up at me. His golden eyes, which had been so dull, were suddenly bright. Alive.
Behind me, I heard a thud.
Archduke Cassian Argentis was no longer lounging. He was on his feet, his bored expression completely gone, replaced by a look of sharp, stunned, calculating intensity. He wasn't falling for me, but he was looking at me like I was a magic trick he couldn't figure out.
"A-ha," I said softly, mirroring my words from the kitchen. "See? He's not delicate. He was just cold."
Jasper, full of warm food and energy for the first time in what was probably months, did something that sealed the deal. He had saved his life.
He crawled out of his blanket-nest, right into my lap, and clung to my apron.
"Warm..." he whispered, his voice a tiny, rusty squeak.
He'd found the new, most reliable heat-source in the room. Me.
"Well, Archduke," I said, patting the small, dark purple-haired head that was now burrowed into my stomach. "My demonstration is complete. My culinary services, as you can see, are effective."
Cassian just stared, his golden eyes unblinking. He was shocked, alright.
Jasper looked up from my apron. "More?" he asked me. Then he looked over at his brother, his voice surprisingly strong. "I want to go with her."
Cassian's face twitched. His little brother, the untouchable ward, was clinging to this tail-less fox-kin and making demands.
He had no choice.
"Alistair," Cassian said, his voice tight. "From now on, you will escort my brother to the Little Whiskers Daycare... whenever he wishes to go. Starting tomorrow."
That Night
I was back in my tiny attic room above the daycare, counting the rest of the gold Cassian had given me—a retainer. I was rich. I was safe. For now, at least.
I was exhausted, but I was wired. I had done it. I'd cured the delicate ward.
I looked at my hand-drawn sign on the wall, the one with the crude drawings of the wolf and panther.
One cub down... four to go.
My gamer brain was finally seeing the real Hard Mode walkthrough. This wasn't a quest. I had no idea what the real ending for this route was—I'd never played it, I'd only read the Bad End preview.
This was a strategy.
My goal is to find a husband. To get one of those B.A.D.s to propose, or at least protect me, before Marquis Grieve comes to collect. I'm not playing for high scores or hidden rewards. I'm playing for my life.
And I'd just found my capture method.
Curing Jasper wasn't the win. It was the key. Cassian Argentis, the most scheming B.A.D., now needs me for his brother. He's not in love with me...he looked at me like I was a fascinating, dangerous new variable, but he's invested. And he's letting his brother come to my daycare. That's protection.
That's one.
The rumor of this will spread. The proud Lord Jaeger hates me, but he's desperate to fix his Demon Cub. The honorable General Khanda needs someone for his Hyperactive son.
My failed, tail-less, pheromone-free status doesn't matter. My cooking does. I'm not a mate. I'm an asset. And in this aristocratic world, an irreplaceable, unique asset is even more valuable.
My smile was sharp. One thing at a time. A husband is survival.
Game on.