SWST 41

Chapter 41

Francesca said she wanted to learn cooking, and I froze.
Between us, the two maids and Mei looked at me with eyes wide like startled rabbits.
Judging by their reactions, it seemed my ears weren’t deceiving me.

“Um… Madam, do you mean that you want me to make food?”
I asked again, just to be sure I hadn’t misunderstood.

But Francesca calmly cleared her throat and continued.
“I liked the food you made. I’ve always wished to make something like that myself, at least once.”

“Ah…”
I lingered on the word wish and my gaze naturally fell on her hands.
Even after giving birth to three sons, her hands were fair and delicate, glowing more than the young maids beside her. If her wish was simply to cook, she could have done so countless times. Even innocent and kind-hearted Mei seemed unable to believe her words.

And the fact that she had come here, having never set foot in this place since I stayed in the annex…
There was clearly another reason.

“A mother-in-law test.”
A bad feeling surged in my mind.
I recalled my previous life, hearing the voice of a mother-in-law echo in my ears:

“Let’s see how you cook. Is this all you bought? Where did you get this?”

At the time, I thought she was just curious about my housekeeping and asked questions out of interest.

“Did you really feed our Sanghyuk this? You must think him so easy to fool! Feeding this to our precious eldest grandson, someone without any proper manners!”

The side dishes I had painstakingly prepared were thrown onto the floor by her hands. Back then, I was naive enough to think it was just my mistake, so I even attended a cooking school. Later, however, I overheard her boasting to others: “If you secure them firmly from the start, they’ll learn to respect their husband and parents-in-law.”
That’s when I realized—it was just typical mother-in-law tyranny.

“If you’re tired, I can come another time.”
She asked with concern, but I knew that was just polite words.

“No, it’s fine.”
“That’s good. If you were hesitant because it was difficult, don’t do that.”
“Yes.”
“Was the meal you prepared earlier made in the annex?”
“Yes.”

She must be curious. Even if the food was good, it might not suit her Westernized palate, and since it was made in the annex, she might be suspicious.

Since there were no guests, the annex only prepared meals for the staff, so the ingredients and hygiene might not be up to standard.

“Let’s go there.”
“Madam, this isn’t a place for you to be. I’ll take you to the main house.”
One of the maids said cautiously.

Francesca immediately refused.
“The main house has too many eyes.”

Though she said that, I knew her intention. She wanted to inspect the kitchen thoroughly and educate me step by step.
I had expected that she wouldn’t leave me alone. Even when Getty brought me various books, claiming I needed lessons, it was clear she was behind it.
If anyone needed to teach me etiquette or proper skills, it could only be her.

But I’m an experienced daughter-in-law.
Even if she tried to subject me to a “mother-in-law test,” I wouldn’t give in.

“Shall we go? I’ll guide you.”
I smiled and took Francesca’s hand.

Surprised at the sudden grasp, she froze.
“Please.”
“…Alright.”

Annex Kitchen

After the staff finished a delicious lunch and left, only Hassen and a few kitchen maids remained to clean up.

“May we come in for a moment?”
I greeted first, and Hassen immediately popped out of the kitchen.

“Little Madam! You didn’t rest and came here yourself? I’m worried it might wear you out.”

His concern made me feel awkward.

“Thank you for worrying. But today, I came with the Madam.”
“Madam…?”
Hassen’s eyes went wide as he saw Francesca entering behind me.

“Madam! How could you come to such a humble kitchen!”
“Are you the head chef here?”
“Y-yes, I’m Hassen. I’m the disciple of Chef Monsel from the main house, and thanks to Madam, I’ve been able to survive here at Bloody Marie!”

I had heard the name Monsel before—he was the head chef in the main house.

“Everyone else, leave except the head chef.”
At her command, Mei and the maids left, leaving just the three of us. Hassen’s nervous breathing was loud in the quiet kitchen.

“Why have you come here, Madam?”
She asked abruptly, and the head chef thought for a moment before answering.
“How many staff work in total here?”

“All five servants and ten maids. Including me, who works in the kitchen, that makes nineteen.”

“You also ate the meal this girl made, right? The same food I ate?”
Hassen glanced nervously as he spoke.

“Yes… though I personally made it, I felt guilty eating the same meal as the Madam.”
Even if Francesca accused me of merely “playing maid” while preparing food for the staff, the responsibility was mine.

“…Did you make all that by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And also enough for our meal?”
“The head chef helped with ingredient prep.”

No wonder Francesca didn’t seem angry. Instead, her expression showed shock and confusion.

“Impressive.”
Ah, so it’s a compliment, not scolding.

“Thank you,” I said instinctively.

Francesca then looked toward the kitchen counter.
There was leftover cabbage from meal prep. I had cleaned up what I sliced, but more cabbage was now cut and left there.

“That’s the cabbage from the lunch I ate?”
She looked displeased at the messy sight.

“No! Little Madam’s portion was cleared, and I freshly sliced this myself, but I haven’t tidied it yet.”
Hassen blushed and hurriedly covered the untidy counter.

Francesca’s gaze shifted again. Hassen was sweating profusely. The small, old kitchen got messy quickly with even a little waste.
Francesca looked troubled, but after all, this is a place where people live.

“What were you making with the cabbage?”
“This is kimchi, which Little Madam taught me to make. I thought I’d try it myself.”

So that’s why so much cabbage was cut. Perhaps he was experimenting with the recipe like last time. Carrots and other vegetables were cut into cubes beside it.

“Oh? Are you trying with onions too?”
I noticed the onions among the ingredients.

“Yes. Cabbage is best, of course, but I wanted an alternative in case it wasn’t available.”

“You really are a genius, Chef.”
He hadn’t even asked me for the recipe, yet he tried making it himself—and even found substitutions if ingredients were missing.

“Actually, the true genius is Little Madam. I’m just trying to keep up with your footsteps.”
“You mean, ‘teach one, and learn ten.’”

“…I feel awkward receiving praise in front of the Madam.”

I thought of something better.
I gently held Francesca’s hand again, which she quietly observed.

“I’ll teach you to make even more delicious dishes.”
The sharp spiciness was gone, replaced with a sweet and refreshing taste.

Its name: Pickled Onions.
First, peel the onions.

Shall we make it together, Duchess?