Chapter 273 Worry
To be honest, Marcylin was stunned for a long time. She had never thought that this was something that needed to be compensated, but the other person looked serious, serious and solemn, and his smoky gray eyes reflected her face without any haze.
"If you really want to make it up to me," she finally suggested, nervously and only half-jokingly, "I really miss your potato pancakes."
As a result, the other party seemed to take it seriously and looked at her in surprise, but did not say anything. Instead, he started to look through his schedule.
"I can probably spare an afternoon tomorrow." He looked serious, as if inviting a serious meeting. "If you have time, you can come and see me."
The red-haired girl was silent for a moment, and suddenly couldn't help but cover her face silently, and rubbed her cheeks hard under Ole's strange eyes.
The feared tyrant secretly had... this kind of personality. Marshilin felt the corners of her mouth curiously, uncontrollably rising. It was quite inappropriate and could be misinterpreted as ridicule, but she couldn't help but smile, even feeling the urge to boldly touch that sacred, inviolable, rugged fur ball.
"In that case, I'll be more flexible." The red-haired girl raised her head and said very seriously, "Please don't call me Miss Marchline from now on. It sounds so strange. Just call me Marchline."
"It's just a matter of courtesy," the professor said expressionlessly. "But if you insist, of course, Marcyline."
"...That's enough! Can we put aside this argument about the young lady and potatoes for now?" Ori finally couldn't help but interrupt with a twitching mouth. He would never admit that he felt a little jealous, no matter who it was directed at. "Aren't we talking about business?"
The tyrant glanced at him with some dissatisfaction: "Maintaining team harmony and avoiding unnecessary misunderstandings are also important matters."
"Okay, you always have a point. After all, I'm the only one you can bully." Ole crossed his arms and snorted sourly, "Thank you for remembering to say 'hard work' to me."
The guy responded reflexively, "You're welcome."
Ole: “…”
He couldn't help but grit his teeth, staring at the tyrant's unusually innocent face with a dark face, and in his heart he couldn't help but despise himself for becoming so childish.
"Well, you can come too." The professor looked at him for a moment, then suddenly realized: "If you want to eat too, just say so. I don't understand the subtext."
The assassin was stunned for a moment, then he raised his voice in anger: "Who wants to eat——"
"I want to eat." Azuka interrupted him calmly, completely ignoring his brother's angry and stupid face that was full of "you backstabbed me" written all over it. "I can help you."
"Since there are so many people, we can make Chinese food." The black-haired young man calmly finalized the menu and said without hesitation, "I'll write a list of ingredients later. Please buy them for me after get off work. Thank you."
...It was truly bizarre. Professor Yueda had never imagined in his entire life that he would actually cook for a group of friends—er, more accurately, his lover's friends—for dinner. This lively scene, common in the lives of ordinary people, seemed incredibly novel to someone with social anxiety.
The result of this seemingly impulsive decision on his part was that the natives of the other world crowded into the kitchen, watching in awe as he heated the pan and fried sugar color.
"Is this really not going to explode?"
Strictly forbidden from touching anything in the kitchen, Maxine nervously stared at the oil pan on the fire, finally unable to help but whisper. She stared at the bubbling caramel-colored liquid as if observing some dangerous alchemical potion, ready to rush out of the kitchen at any moment.
"No." The professor gripped the spatula like a scalpel. He recalled the recipe that was gradually becoming clear in his mind and said with certainty, "I've made it several times. There's no chance of it exploding."
"...So, what do you need me to do?" Ole, who finally arrived, was squeezed into a corner. After being glanced at by Azuka who was grinding spices with a half-smile, he sighed and asked reluctantly.
"Fish, fillet and slice," he ordered without turning his head. A plump, live fish was swishing its tail in the wooden barrel. "Cut it thinly, about 2mm. With your knife skills, you should be able to do it, right?"
The assassin, who had just picked up the fish with disdain and knocked it unconscious with a swift throw, snorted upon hearing this: "Of course."
When the chef was pouring the ribs into the pot, the sizzling sound of the oil suddenly exploding when it cooled down made the battle-hardened Maxine jump up. She almost turned around and ran away, but accidentally knocked the oil bottle down and was caught by Azuka with her quick hands.
...To be honest, this Majesty was so mismatched with this lively chaos full of life that no matter how many times she saw it, Marcylin always found it quite absurd. So much so that when she finally saw those plates of novel dishes that were so delicious and looked so good, the red-haired girl was actually a little dazed.
…There was always a feeling that the tyrant was standing right in front of her, but it seemed increasingly unreal.
"Some ingredients are not available here." The tyrant took off his greasy gloves and said with a critical click, "It's barely acceptable."
According to him, this is...a dish from his hometown. Mashilin glanced at him quietly but considerately didn't ask any more questions.
——In her previous life, she and her companions traveled almost all over the continent of Ambrose, but had they ever encountered such novel dishes?
"Okay! I brought some wine, and this, apple juice!" In the end, she just happily held out a glass bottle with rippling golden transparent wine, and apple juice specially prepared for the tyrant who didn't drink alcohol. She couldn't really let people drink coffee so late at night.
It tasted very good, even unexpectedly good. Marshilin was practically in tears as she ate. She had already prepared herself to honor His Majesty no matter what the taste was, but now she was worried about how to snatch the potato pancakes from her cunning and greedy competitors.
"--Hey!"
Ole glared angrily at the great savior, who had manipulated the wind to make the plate slide away from his fork. Then, as if nothing had happened, he forked away the last piece of pork ribs and placed it in the tyrant's bowl.
...Well, the chef has his privileges. Ole looked away indignantly. If the situation changed, he would have picked a fight.
"I learned not to use magic on my food when I was seven." The assassin couldn't help but sneer. "Unlike someone who secretly used magic to open my bread and stuffed chopped hot peppers inside. Professor, you really should be careful. He might do something bad and feed you mushrooms one day."
"That's because you sprinkled salt into my milk first, and then deliberately threw mud mixed with insects into my hair during the fight." Azuka wiped the corner of his mouth gracefully, raised his eyes with a half-smile, and said slowly, "And it's not just the hot peppers. For the next two weeks, you accidentally ate cream pumpkin soup mixed with sand, rotten cherry tomatoes, and fish salad mixed with half a rag and dead insects on your plate..."
He gave the assassin, whose eyes widened in disbelief, a charming smile, but it looked nasty no matter how he looked at it. "It's not because you offended the chef at the Saint Bartolome Warlock Academy. It was all my fault."
Ole: “…”
He flew into a rage on the spot: "Damn it! In my previous life, until the very end, I always thought that the cook accidentally broke a long table in revenge against me -"
"You're so vindictive!" The assassin glared at his brother in disbelief. "I admit I was a bit of a jerk back then, but you wouldn't have to go and retaliate against me for over half a month, would you? You'd have to go and apologize to that sarcastic cook in person—wait."
"Are you drunk?" Ole narrowed his eyes warily and stared suspiciously at his blond friend who was lazily supporting his chin with his hands.
He looked calm, his eyes clear, not a hint of drunkenness. But the tyrant was still sitting there. Given how much he cared about his image—or rather, how could he suddenly reveal his murky past to others?
"Maybe a little?" Azuka pondered for a moment, then slowly turned to look in the professor's direction. Then, he took his hand and pressed it against his chest. His voice was so gentle and intimate that it almost dripped with honey: "Sir, please feel my heartbeat to see if it's fast, okay?"
Ole: “…”
He stood up expressionlessly and poked Maxilin, who was still struggling to clean up the remaining battlefield. "Let's go, Maxilin, pack up your things and leave—there's no room for us here anymore."
The red-haired girl's cheeks were stuffed. After trying hard to swallow the food in her mouth, she looked up blankly: "Uh-huh-huh?"
After cleaning the pots and pans and putting them back in their proper places, it was already completely dark. Ole glanced at the guy who kept smiling but actually looked even more creepy, and finally frowned. "Are you sure it's okay to leave you here alone?"
——Someone always stands behind the tyrant, like a ghost, which is scary at first glance.
"Two people." The professor gave him a puzzled look. "Azuka is here too, so what could be the problem?"
He was in a rare good mood tonight, so he didn't criticize others for being rude.
That was the problem. Ole couldn't help but roll his eyes. He secretly poked Marcyline - the red-haired girl was still confused, her face red after drinking a lot of wine, and she couldn't stop grinning at everyone. She was completely unreliable.
...No, am I the only reliable person here now?! The assassin thought irritably and incredulously. And why should he worry about the tyrant's safety? The other guy looked like he wanted to lick him from head to toe and swallow him whole—well, probably because the tyrant had personally treated them to dinner, and he was a little... flattered.
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