Chapter 25

“I heard she told the officers she’d prepare it herself. If she gets humiliated, she won’t dare to meddle and show off again.”

After the tutor, Hayden, left after offering his advice, the servants stared at the tomato sauce, looking troubled.

“But ruining the dish entirely is a bit…”

“Didn’t the princess say she’d take full responsibility anyway? If she tried to use us to gain recognition, she should be ready to bear the consequences.”

One of the servants grabbed the salt shaker and shook it over the finished sauce.

If they overdid it, it would be obvious they sabotaged it on purpose, so just throwing off the seasoning a bit should be enough.

Later, Cynthia came into the kitchen just in time for the dish to be finished cooking.

“May I have a taste?”

The servants were briefly flustered, not expecting her to actually come check, but they silently sneered as they imagined her helpless face.

‘Let’s see how she likes it.’

Chef Jad, unaware of what the servants’ had done, proudly offered a plate of ratatou.

“Please, try it. I may be the best ratatou maker in the world.”

Cynthia took a bite and showed a subtle, thoughtful expression.

Just as the scheming servants anticipated her reaction, she broke into a bright smile.

“Wow, so this is what the original tastes like. The vegetables are cooked just right, and that clean sweetness really brings all the ingredients together and makes it so flavorful.”

‘She likes it? And she says it’s sweet, not salty?’

At her praise, the servants exchanged bewildered glances.

The chef, who had tasted it as well, was just as flustered.

“It didn’t taste like this earlier… But maybe it’s actually better now, since the salt helped reduce the sourness of the tomatoes.”

“Did someone add more salt? You know, salt can actually bring out the sweetness in ingredients that have natural sugars. I can really taste that clean sweetness now.”

The servants all turned to look at the salt shaker at the same time.

They, untrained in proper cooking, had no idea that salt could enhance sweetness. On top of that, they hadn’t known the right amount to ruin the sauce, and ended up making it better instead.

Just then, Cynthia turned to the servants who had helped with the dish, her face deliberately serious.

“I saw how dissatisfied you all seemed earlier, so I came to check, thinking you might try to ruin the dish. But I was wrong—I didn’t realize you were all so sincere about cooking… Putting aside personal feelings, I’m ashamed of myself for having prejudices. I’m really sorry. You’re all wonderful cooks.”

The servant who had added the salt blushed bright red at her apology.

Cynthia smiled innocently.

“The food here has always been delicious. That’s why I wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you all better, and to say thank you to everyone who works so hard behind the scenes. So, please take good care of things until the end.”

While everyone stared at Cynthia in a daze, she turned to leave, waving at Jad.

“Sorry about what I said earlier about you being a chef from Medeia! I spoke too harshly!”

After Cynthia left, a servant who didn’t want to admit she was a good person muttered—

“What an act. Just wait, she’ll try to act like she made the dish herself to win praise.”

Cynthia had to be the bad one—because otherwise, that would make her the bad person.

***

Massera, returning from his brief outing, spotted officers stepping out of the residence.

The colonel and the lieutenant colonel, not noticing Massera, began gossiping.

“Ha, giving out kids’ snacks like that? How ridiculous. I was sweating just trying to fake being happy about it.”

“I heard Captain Cherta’s wife handed out engraved luxury watches. This can’t even compare to that. With such an excellent wife, his promotion is as good as done.”

Now that the war was over, it was hard to earn promotions through battlefield merit, so internal politics in the military had become fiercely overheated.

As a result, a wife’s role became very important.

A wife had to be a capable partner and strategist, and most took the lead in expanding social networks to aid their husband’s promotion.

“Can that country bumpkin princess, who’s lived in hiding in the countryside her entire life, even act like a proper wife?”

“The brigadier general is a talented man who even the Queen of Medeia has her eye on, so I don’t understand why he’d want to marry some fallen royalty.”

“Maybe he plans to use her and then divorce her. He acts like he doesn’t mind, but you can clearly see how much he dislikes her.”

The colonel sneered, tossing the box of macrons onto the road.

Watching them walk away, Massera pulled out a notebook and jotted something down.

He then returned to the residence and handed it to his aide, Diego.

“Remove these two names from every invitation list.”

“Did something happen?”

Diego asked, eyeing the box of macarons in Massera’s hand.

Massera had already received one from Cynthia earlier and he now brought another, so it made Diego wonder if he had taken it from a junior officer.

Massera stared at the macarons in his hand and said just one word.

“Disrespectful.”

It wasn’t just a matter of not sending invitations.

Massera was nothing less than a war hero.

Not being invited by someone like him would spread as a sign that they had caused trouble and gotten on his bad side. In short, their chances of promotion were as good as gone.

***

By evening, the officers had gathered in the dining hall.

Captain Declan, who harbored hostility toward Cynthia, was there as well.

Most of the officers weren’t interested in the dinner Cynthia had prepared. They were only there to discuss the development project.

When Captain Declan saw ratatou being served as dinner, he let out a scoffing laugh.

‘Serving commoners’ food from Francia to flaunt her egalitarian ideals? How boring and predictable.’

It was a tactic several officers’ wives had already tried.

At first, it earned praise, but the meaningfulness behind it long faded as more people copied the idea. It could even come off as insulting to the officers of common birth.

The uncomfortable expressions on some of the commoner-born officers’ faces proved that point.

Captain Declan didn’t miss this chance.

“A rather humble dish, Your Highness. May I ask why you chose to serve ratatou for dinner?”

He figured she’d bring up the suffering of Francia’s commoners under the tyranny of the royal family—something any officer who’d attended a few dinner banquets could recite by heart.

She herself came from an incompetent royal family, so was she trying to self-deprecate?

“But what exactly defines commoners’ food? Everyone keeps saying that, but to me, it’s just delicious food.”

Cynthia responded with a question he hadn’t expected at all.

Seeing Captain Declan unable to answer right away, Cynthia continued.

“To answer your question though, it’s a dish from a story I like. A rat with great cooking skills controls a human to make food—”

“Pardon? A rat? Are you trying to spread the plague?”

Another officer made a slightly disgusted face.

‘Now that I think about it, it could come off as weird.’

Cynthia cleared her throat and began summarizing the movie’s plot.

The officers listened intently to Cynthia’s story. There was something captivating about the way she told it.

“So, does the rat become a great chef?”

One officer, now so drawn in that he found himself rooting for the rat, asked the question.

“Of course. The theme of the story is ‘Anyone can cook.’ At first, it just sounds like the main character is a disgusting rat, but as you keep listening, doesn’t it start to seem cute and like a brilliant chef?”

“That’s true. And this dish does seem special.”

As the mood took an unexpected turn, Captain Declan clenched his fork with a displeased look.

“I understand well the story and meaning behind the dish. Regardless, it’s only good food if it tastes good.”

What he meant was, if it didn’t taste good, none of that would matter.

Since tastes varied from person to person, any assessment was bound to be subjective. He deliberately put a forkful of ratatou into his mouth.

“This is…”

Honestly, it was delicious. He couldn’t find any fault, so his words trailed off and he just had a serious expression on his face.

“It’s good.”

Just then, Massera, who had been quietly sitting there as if barely there, spoke up.

The officers, who had been waiting to gauge the mood, quickly chimed in with their praise.

“You must have worked hard preparing this, Your Highness.”

Massera gave Cynthia his characteristic polite social smile.

‘Did he just… call me ‘Your Highness’?’

At the word “Your Highness,” Cynthia’s shoulders hunched up tight.

Seeing her look as if she might die of embarrassment, a faint smile appeared on Massera’s lips.

‘According to my observations, she gets uncomfortable every time she’s called ‘Your Highness’ and ‘Princess’.’

He felt the satisfaction of having found a way to torment Cynthia.