Ch. 108 The Witch and the Black Knight (19)
by Afuhfuihgs
Witch – Chapter 108 – The Witch and the Black Knight (19)
Two days had passed since I first taught Edel how to make vegetable fried rice, and now, on the third day of serious cooking lessons, a delicious aroma wafted through the kitchen.
Sweet and savory.
Could this finally be edible?
Considering how my tongue and stomach had suffered through his previous attempts, it was about time he made something decent.
Even my patience had limits—three days straight of eating flawed fried rice for every meal was pushing it. While the ever-changing flavors kept things from getting boring, my refined palate just couldn’t adjust.
“You’ve waited long enough.”
Edel appeared with dramatic flair, his oversized apron fluttering like a war banner. His expression was so solemn, you’d think he was marching into battle—not serving a dish.
I couldn’t fathom why fried rice warranted such gravitas, but it showed how much effort he’d poured into this attempt.
He set the plate before me.
The vibrant colors and mouthwatering scent were promising. Compared to his past disasters, this one looked and smelled like a passing grade.
But taste was what mattered. I couldn’t let my guard down yet.
“You seem confident.”
“The fruits of my training. Eat.”
Though his words were bold, tension flickered in his eyes. His usual indifferent gaze was sharpened to a razor’s edge, and his folded arms probably hid trembling hands.
Cute.
No matter how hard he tried to hide it, I knew.
To savor his nervousness, I picked up my spoon slower than usual. Watching his brow twitch in impatience was my reward for enduring his earlier culinary crimes.
I wanted to drag this out, but Edel’s patience was paper-thin. Just as he teetered on the edge of snapping, I took a bite.
What’s missing this time?
Last attempt was under-seasoned. Maybe today, he’d overcompensated?
“Thanks for the meal~”
Chew, chew.
I savored it slowly—the harmony of vegetables, the aroma, the texture.
The veggies were perfectly tender.
The seasoning balanced—not too little, not too much.
Each bite was nuanced, neither monotonous nor overwhelming. Before I knew it, my spoon scraped an empty plate.
Flawless.
How else could I describe it?
He’d followed the recipe faithfully, yet added his own rugged touch—a subtle kick that made me crave more. Visually, aromatically, gustatorily—full marks.
“Well?”
“Hmm…”
Edel fidgeted, anxiety bleeding into his voice. When I finally smirked, instead of scowling, he exhaled in relief.
“Pass.”
“I see. And the taste?”
Unsatisfied with just pass, he demanded details.
Taste? It was… good fried rice.
For someone who’d only known strength, cooking this well deserved bonus points.
“It’s delicious. The veggies and rice harmonize well.”
“I know it’s tasty. I tasted it first. How tasty is what I’m asking.”
Since when did he get so picky?
Usually, he’d just grunt “I see” and move on. Today, he was oddly insistent—like a child fishing for compliments.
“Uh… You could open a fried rice restaurant?”
“……”
His glare made me shrink.
Not that?
Men—no, Edel’s mind was incomprehensible. Where else would you find higher praise than “You could sell this”?!
“Tch. Forget it. I must still lack something.”
“Huh?! It’s good! I said it passed!”
Did he not understand what pass meant?
No, that couldn’t be. He’d wanted to recreate Sion and Aria’s fried rice scene—so why wasn’t he satisfied with success?
I wracked my brain but came up empty.
“From now on, I’ll cook for you. No objections. No veto rights.”
“Why’s it coming to this?!”
Was pass an insult in the demon realm?!
His sudden declaration of culinary tyranny painted a grim future—three meals a day of fried rice, or worse, new dishes turned into charcoal.
Edel showed no signs of backing down. He snatched my spoon, shoveled a massive bite into his mouth, and spoke with his cheeks stuffed.
“’S ’at leas’ as good ash yersh?”
“Edel… swallow first. I can’t understand you.”
“Hmph.”
I sighed like a parent dealing with a teen’s mood swings.
Thank the gods Josie’s a girl.
Come to think of it, she’d gone through a rebellious phase too—stubborn at fifteen, now mature and dependable. I missed her especially right now.
But this was for Edel’s growth in pure love.
Fried rice was fine, but if he mastered more dishes, he could woo a future wife into devoted adoration.
If sacrificing my tongue and stomach was the price for his romantic education… so be it.
A man cooking for his wife… Just imagining it boosted my pure love meter.
“No giving up halfway, got it?”
“Hmph. I’ll make you say it.”
I brushed off his cryptic words, unfazed.
From then on, we took turns cooking—fried rice alone wouldn’t suffice, so I taught him new dishes while he replicated mine.
Breakfast: I cooked, he assisted.
Lunch: He cooked, I assisted.
Dinner: He flew solo.
Building on his fried rice success, he followed along well—no more burnt offerings.
Though he questioned new methods such as steaming and boiling, he charged forward without hesitation, all for pure love and strength.
“How’s the taste?”
“It’s good?”
“That’s it?”
Dinner became a minefield of identical questions. Good was never enough—he’d retort like a girlfriend fishing for compliments.
If only he’d drop hints. His prickly attitude was making me dread evenings.
“Edel, is there something specific you want to hear? Just tell me.”
“What’s the point then? Cooking is pure love. Without sincerity, it’s meaningless.”
He wasn’t wrong. Forced I love yous held no weight in pure love.
“True, but… before love, people need words. Without them, misunderstandings happen.”
I didn’t need past lives as examples—past miscommunications with Josie and Dorothy proved that.
Love mattered, but honest dialogue sustained it.
As they’d taught me, now I’d teach Edel.
“Tonight’s soup was thoughtful. Tasty, too. You skipped meat because I dislike it, right? That stood out. It’s praise sigil-worthy.”
Just critiquing food shouldn’t be this embarrassing. My cheeks warmed as I continued.
“And compensating with extra veggies for texture was smart—”
“Estelle.” He cut in. “I still don’t fully grasp love… but I tried to cook with it. You said food made with love is the best, so… how was mine?”
Realization dawned. I barely stifled a laugh.
This was what he’d wanted to hear?
The mighty Black Knight, who’d only known strength, was now a bashful boy in love.
If he acted like this learning about love, imagine when he experienced it. He might surpass Kyle.
“Ehehe.”
“Why are you laughing?”
Did he not realize how lovestruck he seemed?
“Ehehe. That’s what you wanted?”
“Forget it. Don’t say it.”
“Witches do the opposite of what they’re told~”
Teasing made him stand abruptly, but if he really wanted to hear it, why not?
His future wife would shower him with praise—consider this practice.
Who else would teach him this stuff?
“It’s delicious. The best in the world.”
Words I’d only ever said to Josie—now given to my one and only culinary apprentice, Edel.
Lucent
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