Avelina softly sighed.
At the counter in the middle of the kitchen, Draven sat her down. He interlocked his fingers, stretching his knuckles and his arms.
Avelina gazed at him with a tilted head, not sure what was about to happen. Out of curiosity, she asked, "Draven...what are you about to do?"
"Cook," Draven replied, half smiling at her.
"Ye?" Avelina was taken aback. "C-cook? You? Y-you?" She pointed at him, her eyes blown wide.
Draven wrinkled his forehead, looking at her with confusion-filled eyes. "What? You don't think I can cook?"
"Absolutely not!" Avelina laughed in disbelief. "You don't look anything like it. I mean…you're a prince and I have never seen you done—"
Draven chortled, patting her head. "Because we are at the royal mansion. I really have no reason to do so. Hmm, I won't say I am good at it, but I think I am a bit okay at it. And I don't know how to do much. All I can do is what my mother used to like then."
