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CHAPTER 13
I corrected my earlier assumption about the man.
There was no way a low-ranking official could freely present his opinions to the Emperor.
“I’ve shown it to you several times… and you still refuse even a small portion. Though I suppose at your age, it’s understandable.”
No, I don’t think it’s about age at all…
“Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Chef. If you ever want to participate in my research, feel free to come to the West Tower anytime.”
“…You don’t know my name?”
I asked, slightly puzzled.
He knew I was a chef—but not my name?
The man nodded.
“How would I know? You never told me.”
“Then… how did you know I was a chef?”
He pointed at the books I had placed beside me.
“It’s hard to think you’re anything else if you’re borrowing books like these.”
They were all books about ingredients.
“…Ah.”
My face suddenly heated up.
‘I guess I was more self-conscious than I thought…’
Fortunately, the man didn’t seem bothered at all.
“So, what’s your name? I need to tell my apprentice in advance.”
I paused, slightly stunned.
He had an apprentice? He looked barely older than a teenager.
He didn’t seem like just some crazy person after all.
“…Heidi. Just Heidi. No family name.”
“I see.”
Even though rumors about me must have spread through the palace, he simply nodded.
“I’m Elliot Horton.”
What?
I froze mid-motion as I was about to stand up.
Elliot Horton.
He had never appeared directly in the novel, but his name had been mentioned several times.
A once-in-a-generation genius alchemist.
A monster who graduated top of the Imperial Academy at sixteen and was granted ownership of one of the palace towers at eighteen.
That Elliot Horton was standing in front of me.
My mouth went dry.
‘Dangerous.’
If I remembered correctly, he was only about twenty now.
Three years younger than me—Adelheid Seaton.
Which meant he still had enormous potential ahead of him.
‘Is he seriously going to… succeed?’
I couldn’t even finish the thought.
I had no idea how far this “monster” would develop.
Right now it might just be a tasteless black lump, but if he ever improved the flavor…
‘I might actually lose my job.’
And with that, my modest dream of opening a small restaurant would disappear.
I quickly grabbed him.
“Don’t you want to know how terrifying familiar taste can be?”
Fortunately, convincing Elliot wasn’t difficult.
He seemed to take my words as a kind of challenge.
“I’ve never heard that before. Familiar taste is terrifying?”
Elliot tilted his head.
“What exactly do you mean, Chef Heidi?”
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Hmm…”
He thought for a moment.
“I like eggs. They’re a complete food. In fact, my research has also taken a lot of inspiration from eggs.”
I sighed internally.
I asked for taste, not nutritional classification.
But if I asked again, he’d probably say, “Why does taste matter?”
“So you can clearly remember the taste of eggs, right?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Boiled eggs, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, omelets… I’ve tried them all. I don’t think I’d find anything surprising or frightening no matter how they’re prepared.”
“Is that so?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Then let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make something right now.”
In truth, I had already won this argument.
The moment he said “eggs,” I had already thought of a dish he wouldn’t be able to stay calm about.
A short while later.
We arrived in the kitchen.
Unlike me, who felt at home, Elliot looked slightly exhausted.
“So many tools just to eat a meal…”
“Sit there quietly and read. You’ll get in the way.”
Fortunately, Elliot obediently sat down and started reading.
I took out fresh eggs.
I cracked them, separated whites and yolks into a bowl, added sugar and salt, and whisked them.
To Elliot, it probably looked like a completely ordinary dish.
I diluted the beaten eggs with water, then took the smallest pot available.
“…?”
Finally, Elliot looked up and watched me closely.
This was unfamiliar to him, so he was curious.
I placed the pot over a preheated flame and poured in the egg mixture, stirring slowly.
Yes.
I was making steamed eggs.
Just ordinary steamed eggs? Not quite.
I stirred carefully with a wooden spoon until the eggs began to form soft, fluffy curds.
It required some skill to prevent sticking to the bottom or sides.
Once it had taken shape—
I covered the pot with a lid that left a small opening and turned down the fire almost completely.
Then I waited a few minutes for it to set.
Elliot looked slightly bored.
“This is taking longer than I expected.”
“It’s ready now.”
I said cheerfully and lifted the lid.
“…!”
Elliot’s eyes widened behind his thick glasses.
The bright yellow steamed eggs had puffed up as if ready to spill out of the pot.
A rich, savory aroma filled the kitchen.
It was what you would call “bomb steamed eggs.”
“What… is this?”
“A volca—er… volcano steamed egg.”
I almost said “bomb steamed eggs,” but quickly corrected myself, remembering this world had no concept of bombs.
That would be dangerous—what if Elliot actually decided to invent them?
I topped it with chopped green onions and served it to him.
“Try it.”
Elliot carefully lifted the spoon and took a bite.
“….”
Silence.
He didn’t move for a moment, as if he had frozen.
He just stared at the steamed eggs.
‘As expected.’
My first time eating bomb steamed eggs had been the same.
I had thought steamed eggs were just steamed eggs—then suddenly this fluffy, rich, melt-in-your-mouth version existed.
Even I, who grew up eating steamed eggs, had been shocked.
So for Elliot, who had likely never experienced proper steamed eggs at all, this must feel like a revelation.
And as expected, his silence didn’t last long.
“It’s… it’s so delicious. I never thought something like this could exist!”
He took another bite and continued excitedly.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten! It’s so faithful to the essence of eggs, yet the flavor is so deep…”
He kept scooping spoonful after spoonful without stopping.
Before long, the pot was empty, and the spoon lay neatly beside it.
I looked at him proudly.
I had expected him to be humbled after losing the verbal exchange.
But Elliot—
“Please. Please take me as your apprentice!”
I paused.
“Did you just say apprentice?”
“Yes. I want you to be my master, Chef Heidi.”
His sudden change in attitude was more shocking than anything else.
“Teach you cooking?”
I asked slowly.
I had expected admiration—but not this level of reaction.
Elliot tilted his head.
“Cooking? I have no talent for that. I don’t even plan to do it.”
“Then why do you want to be my apprentice?”
“Because of this dish.”
He said seriously.
“This cannot be called cooking. It’s alchemy.”
…Was that a compliment?
Before I could respond, he continued.
“Eggs, salt, and sugar—yet such flavor! And the texture… it’s like the softest pudding in the world.”
I was about to thank him, but he cut in again.
“It’s warm, fluffy, and I could eat it forever without getting tired. Ah… I want more…”
“Uh… thank you.”
