Ch. 101 The Witch and the Black Knight (12)
by Afuhfuihgs
Witch – Chapter 101 – The Witch and the Black Knight (12)
Having never slept on the sofa before, the bed felt exceptionally cozy, making me laze around a little longer this morning.
Stretching, I headed downstairs to find Edel sitting on the sofa reading a book. The neatly folded blanket beside him and his clean-shaven jawline suggested he’d already finished his morning routine.
If it were Leo, he’d still be asleep—but Edel’s diligence brought a small smile to my face.
Had Josie not fallen for Leo, I might’ve seriously considered Edel as a potential son-in-law.
Looks? Check.
Intelligence? Check.
Strength befitting a Heavenly King? Check.
…Anything else?
Well, anyway.
“Estelle. Good morning.”
“Ah… Yeah. Good morning, Edel.”
Noticing my presence, Edel looked up from his book and greeted me flatly.
Just yesterday, this wouldn’t have been strange—but now, the mere act of exchanging names made my cheeks burn.
“Estelle.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m hungry.”
This glutton.
Well, I had overslept, delaying breakfast. But blurting out “I’m hungry” like that? He still had a long way to go.
Still, I’d promised him a special potato dish for breakfast, so I hurried to the kitchen.
“Wait a bit.”
I tied on an apron and headed to the pantry.
Edel had been eating so many potatoes that our stock was running low. Self-sufficiency had its limits—soon, I’d need to visit the market for more.
But a promise was a promise. Today, it’d be potatoes.
As I gathered the remaining spuds, I turned to find Edel standing blankly in the kitchen.
“I told you to wait. Surely you can hold out a little longer?”
…Right?
Even pets can wait when told.
Surely Edel could manage?
“That’s not it.”
“Then?”
“I want to learn to cook.”
…Cook?
I tilted my head, wondering if I’d misheard—until Edel flipped open his book and showed me.
Aria cooking for Sion for the first time.
While Sion rests after being poisoned, Aria makes him porridge with her own hands.
Aria, who only knew cooking through knowledge, produced something so terrible that the game system labeled it as an “HP -10 per second” cursed item.
Sion eats it all anyway—then suffers stomach pains for days.
In short, Edel wanted to imitate Aria.
And the thought of Edel cooking was… unimaginable.
Just yesterday, he’d broken multiple dishes “helping” with washing. If he tried cooking, how much worse would it be?
Plus, he had zero culinary fundamentals. Could he even follow instructions?
Right. Cooking is where I draw the line—!
I steeled myself to refuse—
“Isn’t this also related to pure love?”
“……”
—until he hit me with the one argument I couldn’t counter.
A man who can cook?
Wasn’t that a fantasy even Aria Chronicle couldn’t provide?
…Fine.
“This is uncomfortable. Must I wear it?”
Edel grumbled, adjusting the snug apron.
Since only Josie and I used the kitchen, the apron was far too small for his frame. I’d even needed magic to fasten the back.
Uncomfortable? Maybe. But the apron was non-negotiable.
A man in an apron is peak attractiveness. If I trained him now, it’d pay off when he pursued love later.
“An apron is like… culinary armor. It’s about mindset.”
“So like armor in battle?”
Close enough.
Edel glanced around, eyes lighting up at the kitchen knife.
He tested the grip, examined his reflection in the blade—then swung it like a sword.
“A dull dagger.”
“It’s a knife. And don’t swing it like a sword in here—it’s dangerous!”
“…I’ll be careful.”
I sighed, already foreseeing disaster.
“So what do I do?”
“Just cut the peeled potatoes. Like this.”
If nothing else, his swordsmanship should translate well.
I set out a wooden cutting board, handed him a washed potato, and demonstrated.
Tap. Tap. Tap. The knife struck the board in a steady rhythm, producing perfectly uniform slices.
Edel smirked.
“Simple.”
Simple?!
It took me over a year to master this. His arrogance almost made me look forward to his inevitable failure.
“It’s harder than it looks.”
“Watch. This is the blade of the Black Knight.”
With a crack!—a sound no potato should ever make—he brought the knife down.
The potato split cleanly…
…along with the cutting board…
…and the knife now embedded in the kitchen table.
Was that supposed to be impressive?!
“Y-Y-YOU—! CONTROL YOUR STRENGTH!”
“I did hold back…”
“……”
“…Sorry.”
My glare reduced him to a pitiful, puppy-like apology.
Calm down, Estelle.
You expected this.
Though not this soon.
Deep breaths.
“Edel. Watch. This is how to hold a knife. Gripping it like a sword strains your wrist. Thumb and index finger here.”
I reached to adjust his grip—then hesitated.
Just yesterday, touching him would’ve been unthinkable. Now, it felt… oddly natural.
This is teaching. It’s fine.
Taking his large hands in mine, I repositioned each finger like adjusting a jointed doll.
His fingers trembled slightly—whether from discomfort or concentration, I wasn’t sure.
“Next is strength control…”
Demonstrating from the side would press my chest against his arm.
Standing far away would ruin my posture.
And from behind? His body would block my view—and my chest might bump his elbows.
That left… one option.
“Edel, take two steps back.”
“Understood.”
I slipped into the space between him and the table—
Like a… back hug?
Ugh. This is educational!
Necessary to avoid chest contact!
“D-Don’t lean into me! Focus on cooking!”
“I am focused. Begin.”
Pressing close to the table, I placed my hands over his on the knife.
Scars covered even the backs of his hands—deep, darkened marks.
At least I won’t faint from “demon sword” attacks this time.
I repositioned the halved potato on the “slightly damaged” cutting board.
Since when was cooking this tense?
With his thick arms practically caging me, an inexplicable nervousness set in.
We’re not touching… but it feels like we are.
He’s focused on cooking—why am I overthinking this?
“Slowly. Curl your left knuckles. Good. Don’t chop—guide the blade, tip toward the board. Gently push, slight pressure.”
Following my lead, Edel cut the potato—rough yet smooth.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rhythmic taps filled the quiet kitchen.
We focused solely on the sensation of our overlapping hands—every twitch, every tremor.
Even this slight contact revealed how carefully he controlled his strength.
Guiding his larger hands with my smaller ones, we finished dicing.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Edel exhaled sharply.
“Oh…”
He sounded almost surprised he’d succeeded.
All that boasting earlier—where’s that confidence now?
Releasing his now sweaty hands, I wiped mine on my apron and slipped out of his hold.
“Hehe. See? Easy. Now try alone.”
“…Understood.”
With firsthand experience, he’d manage.
Since it was practically brunch time, I hurried to peel more potatoes—
“Estelle.”
His voice was oddly stiff.
“Yeah?”
“Apologies, but… could you guide me once more? Cooking is… difficult.”
His grip had reverted to sword-holding form.
Seriously?!
“Ugh… Last time.”
No time for this.
I slid back into position.
The second time was less tense.
Placing my hands over his, I continued remedial lessons.
“Got it? When holding a knife…”
Step by step.
Grip. Technique.
The distance between us felt closer now—making my shoulders hunch unconsciously.
But since we weren’t touching, getting angry felt unreasonable.
In the end, Edel’s “education” didn’t conclude until every potato was diced.
Lucent
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