Sniff!
Sniff!
"I guess Demon or not, an onion is still an onion." Sylvester watched Zenith cut the onions with a little knife and cry rivers from her eyes. "Don't you have these in your world?"
"I never entered the kitchen in my life, Sylvester," she blurted, voice annoyed as the tears made her feel uneasy. "I know the names, but I never worked on these items in my world."
"Quite a privileged life you've lived," Dalgan commented from the side, forgetting this was his Empress. "I wish I had that image-capturing box."
Sylvester scoffed and glared at Dalgan, "What are you gloating over? Pick up a knife and start chopping other vegetables."
"Me too?"
"Why? Your hands are too delicate for this work? Didn't you vow to die serving me?" Sylvester reminded the old demon general, "Get to work now."
"Understood!"
