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Chapter 10
“So, Nanny, you’re saying you need one person to take the lead on cookie-making and one to assist? Preferably one man and one woman?”
“Yes. Exactly. Preferably someone with a friendly appearance. The prince still gets a bit scared of tall or rough-looking people.”
“Then how about one kind-looking man and one kind-looking woman? Oh, does age matter?”
“Not really.”
“Hmm… In that case, Chef Jeffrey and Ableen seem ideal. What do you think, Porl?”
Mary, the housekeeper, tidy hair neatly tied back, speckled with white, petite but full-figured, looked down at Porl for his opinion.
Mary carried an aura of experience at first glance.
“Perfect match, I’d say.”
Porl nodded in agreement.
“Jeffrey’s a bit stocky, but not imposing. His age and slight belly give him a warm, approachable look. His eyebrows slope gently, so he’s entirely non-threatening. His personality matches that, and his baking skills speak for themselves. Ableen works under him as the head assistant, so they’ll be in sync. She’s naturally bright and kind. They’ll have no trouble assisting the prince.”
Listening to Mary, Marisel could almost picture the two in front of her.
Exactly the kind of people needed to help Fleur overcome his fear of grown men.
She had hoped for someone cheerful and non-threatening for the first encounter—and now, the match was perfect.
“Wow… just listening to you makes me so excited!”
Marisel’s honest enthusiasm surprised Mary. She had simply been doing her job, yet Marisel’s praise warmed her heart.
“I’m glad you’re excited, Nanny,” Mary said, her voice trembling slightly with a shy smile.
The cookie day was set for three days later, between lunch and dinner.
“Nanny Marisel, how did you even come up with this idea?”
“It seems a bit unusual to you, right, Butler?”
Marisel smiled knowingly, folding her eyes gently.
After all, she wasn’t originally from this world. It was only natural her ideas seemed unusual.
I’ll probably face reactions like this often… maybe I should prepare a standard answer just in case, she thought.
“Prince, it’s finally time for our cookie session! Shall we head to the kitchen?”
Marisel extended her hand, and Fleur took it as if second nature now.
Their hands, held like mother and son, swayed lightly with each step.
“Aren’t you excited? The soft, squishy feel of flour dough… mmm, just thinking about it feels so good! You’re in for a treat, Prince! We’ve brought in the Grand Ducal household’s finest baking instructors!”
Fleur squeezed her hand, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Here we are.”
Marisel guided him into the kitchen.
“Welcome, Prince, Nanny Marisel.”
“I’m Chef Jeffrey.”
“I’m Ableen, his assistant.”
As Mary had described, Jeffrey’s drooping eyebrows and slightly rounded figure gave him a kindly, non-threatening aura.
Ableen, with her brown hair and youthful, neat appearance, looked efficient and dependable.
Both stared at Fleur in awe. He was even cuter than they’d imagined.
‘So adorable…’
Ableen clutched her apron in her chest. Fleur’s clear sky-blue eyes, plump cheeks, silky black hair, and the crisp white shirt with suspenders made him irresistibly cute.
‘I’m so lucky,’ she thought.
For elderly Jeffrey, this was a once-in-a-lifetime scene: the heir of the Grand Ducal house making cookies, with him as the baking instructor. He was deeply moved.
“First, let’s put on this apron.”
Ableen handed the aprons to Marisel. Fleur’s had a tiny embroidered teddy bear—completely adorable.
‘When did she even prepare this?’
Fleur hesitated slightly at first, but quickly relaxed with Marisel’s guidance.
The little apron on him made him so endearing that Marisel worried whether they’d get any actual cookie-making done.
Marisel clapped her hands twice.
“Alright, we’re all ready! Let’s begin!”
Fleur stood on a small step to reach the counter, eyes shining nervously.
“First, add this much butter to the mixing bowl. Press and knead it until smooth and creamy.”
Jeffrey guided him with playful, patient instruction.
Fleur and Marisel mashed the butter together with delight.
“Done? Next, let’s crack some eggs into another bowl.”
Jeffrey led them expertly, making the process engaging.
“Everyone’s doing wonderfully! I can’t wait to see today’s cookies. Now, sift the flour gently into another bowl.”
Fleur scooped the flour with his tiny hands, shaking the sieve with all his might.
The flour fell like fresh snow, and his eyes lit up as if in a winter wonderland.
Marisel’s gaze was full of affection.
After a few more steps, Jeffrey introduced the final mixing stage.
“Now, we’ll add the wholesome, creamy white milk from our estate cows to complete the dough.”
But then a mishap occurred.
Some milk splashed onto Marisel’s face as Fleur enthusiastically mixed the dough. She froze in surprise, stopping her movements. Fleur tensed, his face turning serious.
“Hey! Attacking me with a water spray like that? Unforgivable!”
Marisel burst into a playful grin, rubbing flour across Fleur’s nose.
Fleur blinked in confusion, then saw her bright smile and realized it was a joke—he laughed along.
“Prince, wipe it off, please.”
Fleur obediently used his doughy hands to wipe her face, but the mixture left a comical white flour mustache on her left cheek.
“Pft… ahahaha!”
Ableen couldn’t hold back and laughed loudly.
“Heh-heh, hahaha!”
Even Jeffrey joined in boisterously.
“Ah… Nanny, I’m—so—sorry—”
“I’m, I’m, s-sorry too—”
They laughed while apologizing, unable to continue their sentences.
Ableen quickly fetched a mirror for Marisel.
In it, her face looked like a kindergarten child with a white, floury mustache smeared across her cheek. She couldn’t stop laughing.
The kitchen erupted in laughter again.
Marisel’s mischievous streak emerged. She dabbed some of the thin dough onto Fleur’s forehead and showed him in the mirror.
A tiny unicorn horn appeared on his forehead. Fleur twitched his lips, then smiled brightly, making a soft little sound.
“Now, to move on, we need to finish the dough, right?”
“Yes~!”
Another burst of laughter followed.
Finally, the dough was ready, and it was time to shape the cookies.
“You can press it into a mold like this, or shape it by hand. I’ll make a cat shape like this—”
Following Jeffrey’s guidance, they used molds and freehand shapes.
Then something happened.
Fleur stopped, his eyes brimming with tears, gazing at Marisel with a pitiful, pleading look.
