The scent of roasted duck filled the kitchen, rich and tantalizing. Aran moved with calm precision, his hands gliding over the plate as he arranged the final touches. Outside, the murmur of the dining hall was a distant hum. His focus? Unshaken. Each dish had to be flawless, not just for his reputation, but for something deeper that he had to protect at all costs.
"The Silent Flame, huh...?" Tovan, his sous-chef, leaned in with a grin. "Ironic name for a place that never rests."
Aran didn't respond, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Tovan wasn't wrong—The Silent Flame was the busiest restaurant in the capital, a place where nobles and commoners alike came to escape the chaos of the Empire. A place where Aran could hide.
"Oi, Aran," Tovan whispered dramatically, leaning closer. "She's here again. You know who I'm talking about..."
Aran paused. He didn't need to ask. Eliana Movrin, the Archduke's daughter, had become a regular visitor. More specifically, too regular. Ever since her first visit, she'd kept returning. At first, it seemed like curiosity. Now, though, her gaze lingered on him in a way that was... unnerving.
"She's not here for the food anymore," Tovan teased. "I bet she's here for you."
"...Unlikely," Aran replied flatly, though there was a flicker of unease in his chest. He continued plating, his movements as steady as ever.
"Well, either way, she asked for you to bring it to her. Personally."
Aran's hands stilled for a moment. "Personally?"
Tovan wiggled his eyebrows. "Yep! She said, 'Make sure Aran brings it to my table himself.' Kinda hard to miss that one."
Aran sighed. "She's trouble."
"Maybe. But she's also hot," Tovan laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
Aran ignored him. Picking up the plated duck, he adjusted his apron and started toward the dining hall. His heart beat just a little faster than usual. Not because he was nervous about serving the Archduke's daughter. No, that wasn't it.
It was because Eliana was sharp too sharp. And every time they interacted, he felt like she was inching closer to unraveling a part of him he worked so hard to hide.
As he stepped into the dining hall, the clinking of silverware and soft murmur of conversations greeted him. But his eyes went straight to her. There she was, sitting by the window in her usual spot, hair dark as night cascading over her shoulders. Even in the soft light, her presence was impossible to ignore her sharp gaze, her poised posture, the sword resting by her side despite the formal setting.
"Lady Eliana," Aran greeted as he approached, carefully placing the dish in front of her. "Your roasted duck."
Eliana lifted her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Aran," she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing. "You don't need to be so formal with me. How many times do I have to tell you?"
Aran kept his tone neutral. "It's only proper to show respect, Lady Eliana."
She sighed, leaning back slightly in her chair, eyes still locked onto him. "You always do that, don't you? Keep your distance."
"I don't know what you mean," Aran replied, his face unreadable.
"Come on, I'm not that hard to talk to, am I?" she quipped, picking up her fork and slicing into the duck with an elegance only she could manage. "You cook this amazing food, yet you stay hidden in the kitchen. Why?"
Aran's heart skipped a beat. "She's prying again... but I can't let her get too close."
"Cooking is my craft," he said calmly. "I prefer the quiet of the kitchen."
Eliana raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing playfully. "You're more than just a chef, though."
Aran felt a shiver crawl down his spine. Her words sharp, direct, cutting right to the core. She was perceptive. Dangerously so.
He forced a small smile. "I'm afraid I'm exactly what you see. Nothing more, nothing less."
Eliana's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than comfortable, then she chuckled softly, taking a bite of the duck. "Is that so? I don't know... something about you feels... different. Like you've seen more than most chefs have."
Aran tensed. "She's getting too close..."
Before he could respond, Eliana set down her fork and leaned forward slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "One of these days, Aran... I'll figure you out."
Aran straightened. "There's nothing to figure out."
She grinned. "You sure about that?"
He stayed silent, holding her gaze for a moment before bowing slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to return to the kitchen."
As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. "I'll be back tomorrow."
Aran glanced over his shoulder. Eliana was watching him intently, her smile soft but knowing.
"I'll make something special," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. "Something you won't forget."
Eliana's smile deepened. "I'll hold you to that."
Back in the kitchen, Tovan was waiting, his grin wide and mischievous.
"So?? How'd it go??" he asked, leaning in closer than necessary. "Did she flirt with you again?"
Aran shot him a look. "She's dangerous."
"That's what makes it exciting!" Tovan wiggled his eyebrows. "I mean, come on. Beautiful swordmaster, deadly on the battlefield, and she's practically got her eyes glued to you."
Aran rubbed his temples. "This isn't some romantic fantasy, Tovan."
"Isn't it?" Tovan waggled his finger. "You're the mysterious chef with a dark past, and she's the fierce noblewoman with a reputation that makes men tremble. It's perfect! You just need to swoop in and—"
"Stop talking," Aran interrupted. "You've been reading too many light novels again."
Tovan shrugged, still smirking. "Just saying, boss. She's not coming for the duck anymore."
Aran stayed silent, his thoughts drifting back to Eliana's sharp gaze and her unspoken curiosity.
No, she definitely wasn't just here for the food.
And that... was exactly what worried him. He Letting out a long sigh.