As noon sunlight poured into the manor kitchen, Leo rummaged through the cupboards, hoping to find something he could whip up for lunch. The kitchen, though dusty and silent from years of neglect, had a cozy feel that hinted at countless family meals once shared here. It seemed frozen in time, yet full of stories.
With no fresh ingredients in sight, he sighed. "Guess I'll have to rely on what I brought," he muttered. Leaving the kitchen, he headed back to his room, where his bags were still half-unpacked. After a bit of digging, he pulled out a few items he'd managed to grab on his way: a pack of flour, some sugar, milk, and a tiny bottle of vanilla.
"Pancakes it is," he declared to no one in particular.
As he returned to the kitchen, Selena's soft voice drifted in from the doorway. "A bold choice for a beginner, don't you think?"
He jumped, clutching the ingredients. "I didn't know ghosts gave cooking advice."
Selena chuckled, a sound that echoed faintly, almost as if it was part of the manor itself. "Well, someone has to look out for you. Pancakes are deceptively simple."
Leo gave her a smirk, setting the ingredients down on the counter. "Then why don't you coach me through it? I might be a beginner, but I think I can handle a few instructions."
She drifted closer, her figure shimmering faintly in the sunlight that sliced through the dust. "Very well. We'll start with the basics. Did you manage to bring a whisk, or shall we improvise?"
Leo dug through a drawer, triumphantly holding up a worn whisk. "This place isn't completely deserted, you know."
Selena's eyes seemed to soften with a hint of nostalgia. "Yes… many things left behind. Tools. Memories." Her gaze lingered on a cast-iron skillet hanging on the wall, as if remembering someone who'd used it long ago.
"Alright, wise ghost chef, what's next?" Leo asked, sensing her shift in mood and hoping to draw her back.
She blinked, shaking off her distant look. "Right. Begin with flour—about a cup. Then, add just a bit of sugar, a pinch of salt. Mix those together."
As Leo measured out the ingredients, he couldn't help but notice her precision. "You sound like you've done this before."
She laughed softly, an almost wistful sound. "Let's just say I've had my fair share of… experiences in the kitchen."
He stirred the dry ingredients together, glancing up at her from time to time. "Well, if you were alive right now, I'd definitely want to know where you learned your cooking skills."
"Would you?" Her tone turned teasing, but he detected a trace of something else—a flicker of mystery, perhaps.
Before he could press further, she continued. "Now add the milk. Pour slowly while you whisk."
He tried to follow her instructions, focusing on the mixture. As the batter thickened, he could smell the faint hint of vanilla he'd added, and a warmth seemed to seep into the old kitchen, dispelling a bit of the lingering chill.
"Let it sit a moment," she advised, her gaze drifting again as if lost in thought.
Leo took the opportunity to study her. "What's it like, Selena? Being... here? Stuck in this place, watching over an empty house?"
For a moment, her face softened, revealing an emotion he couldn't quite place. "It's... strange. Like a dream I can't wake from, yet don't want to end. This manor is both my prison and my comfort."
Leo shifted, feeling a pang of sympathy. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
A faint smile touched her lips. "Perhaps one day. For now, just try not to burn those pancakes."
He grinned, returning his focus to the task. "Alright, alright. So, skillet next, right?"
She nodded, and he moved to the stove, heating the pan until it was ready. Carefully, he poured a ladleful of batter, watching as it sizzled and bubbled.
As the first pancake hit the skillet, a rich, warm aroma filled the kitchen, cutting through years of stale air and dust. The scent of vanilla and caramelized batter wafted up, curling around him like a cozy blanket. Leo's stomach gave an appreciative growl, echoing in the silent room and prompting a small, amused smile from Selena. For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring the simplicity of the moment—the smell, the warmth, the comforting sizzle. Despite the eerie company, he felt at home in the old manor, as though he was breathing life back into its abandoned walls.
As he flipped the pancake, he noticed Selena observing him with a quiet intensity. "What?" he asked, feeling a bit self-conscious.
"Nothing," she replied, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Just… watching you brings a bit of life back to this place."
He chuckled. "Glad to help. You'll have to be my quality control, though."
Selena moved closer, the faint glow of her form illuminating the counter. "I think you'll find I'm an excellent judge."
As he finished making the last pancake, he set the plate on the table and sat down. He glanced at her, unsure of what to say.
Selena smiled, a bit wistfully. "Go on, eat. I'll just enjoy the company."
He took a bite, savoring the warmth and sweetness. For a moment, they sat together in companionable silence, the kitchen filled with the echoes of past meals and shared memories. It felt almost… normal, like he was having lunch with an old friend.
After a few bites, Leo looked up at her. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly good at making this place feel like home."
Selena laughed softly, her form flickering slightly. "Thank you, Leo. I suppose, in some ways, I am still here—still part of this place. And you, well, you remind me of a time when it wasn't so lonely."
He smiled, the warmth of her words settling over him like a comforting blanket. "Anytime you want to share a meal, just let me know. I could use a cooking coach."
As he finished his meal, he felt a strange sense of contentment, as if he'd bridged a gap between the living and the lingering echoes of the past. The manor, with all its secrets, didn't feel quite so haunting anymore. And as he cleared his plate, he couldn't help but glance at Selena, wondering what other memories and mysteries she might be holding onto.