The Possession-Spoon Chef Feeds the Empire - Chapter 32

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 32
Lenar and the other cooks standing at a distance instinctively hunched their shoulders.
In their eyes, Luciel’s right arm had become nothing but a blur, its form utterly unrecognizable.
A silver blade traced dozens, hundreds of arcs through the air, pouring down in relentless fury.
Thwack, thud.
Useless tendons flew with perfect accuracy to the side of the cutting board.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap!
Then the blade came down mercilessly in the opposite direction.
The deer’s muscle fibers, rougher than the sole of a leather shoe, yielded like butter, slicing cleanly away.
Pieces of meat, uniform in thickness, tumbled onto the cutting board like dominoes.
Crack.
With one final sharp blow, Luciel’s knife stopped dead.
From the moment she began until the massive three-portion cut of venison was completely broken down and arranged in perfect condition for cooking, no more than thirty seconds had passed.
“Next.”
She placed the sliced meat into a bowl, then selected two kiwis from a fruit basket in the corner of the kitchen.
What she was about to do was a method she’d devised herself, drawing from something her mother had once mentioned.
“Enzymes break down meat proteins. Mother’s company used that principle to sell tender meat for convenience stores….”
“Kiwis! Kiwis have enzymes in them! If you let the meat soak in that, it’d smell wonderful too.”
“My, what a genius our daughter is. So that application was actually possible. I was just trying to teach you science, you know.”
“…But Mother, if you work in food processing, why didn’t you know how to cook?”
“In the world where I lived, there were these miraculous machines called microwaves and air fryers….”
Without hesitation, Luciel tossed a kiwi onto the cutting board.
As the gleaming blade sliced through the air several times, the kiwi’s skin flew away in all directions as if by magic, leaving only the bright green flesh to drop onto the board with a soft thud.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
Then she brought down the broad flat of the kitchen knife relentlessly on the flesh.
The crushed green juice cascaded like a waterfall over the thinly sliced venison.
Luciel wasted no time mixing the meat and juice together, kneading them thoroughly.
Time required: ten minutes.
In the meantime, she fried onions in butter and poured in broth, adding root vegetables and herbs as they cooked.
Only then did she begin cooking the marinated meat.
Sizzle.
The surface browned instantly, releasing the fragrance of meat juices; she covered it with a lid to finish it with residual heat.
When she lifted the lid and touched the surface of the meat with a fork,
It gave way.
The once-tough meat had transformed completely, splitting effortlessly along the grain.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Luciel smiled with satisfaction, placed the meat atop the vegetable broth, and added more herbs.
When she divided the finished dish among three deep bowls, steam rose in gentle waves.
* * *
In a corner of the restaurant, Bael, Selene, and Dale sat in silence.
Selene held her back straight, her hands folded neatly on her lap.
Outwardly she appeared serene, but inside was another matter.
‘Was it the right choice?’
Lenar’s venison stew held deep significance in the Bellaon Family’s Hunt Tradition.
It symbolized good fortune.
To eat it before heading to the hunting grounds was far more than a simple custom.
It was about nourishing the body and steadying the mind.
Her mother and grandfather had done the same, or so she’d heard.
Yet she had just abandoned it and lined up behind Luciel.
Behind someone whose cooking she couldn’t even predict.
Had she been enchanted that day?
By a single bite of cranberry tart?
Selene bit her lip from within.
She knew herself to be calculating.
It was what her mother had taught her.
To look beyond surfaces, to move by judgment rather than emotion.
Yet now she couldn’t be certain whether this choice had sprung from judgment or from a temporary enchantment by that taste.
“…When is it coming out?”
Dale muttered restlessly.
Selene glanced toward him.
Dale rested his chin on the table, gazing toward the kitchen, working his jaw as if tasting something phantom.
On the other side, Bael was much the same.
He didn’t express it openly, but if one looked closely, his eyes too were fixed on the kitchen door.
Quite intently.
Selene watched him for a moment.
‘Were they enchanted too?’
Then the kitchen door opened.
Luciel emerged carrying a tray. Steam rose from the three bowls.
The moment the bowls touched down on the table, the aroma arrived first.
Rich, savory venison, underlaid with the sweet scent of butter-fried onions, and crowned with the crisp, cool essence of herbs—layer upon layer enveloped her.
Selene’s eyes widened.
Venison stew?
Made in just thirty minutes? That food of fortune?
She inhaled the aroma again, her expression skeptical.
Some trick must be hiding somewhere, she reasoned.
“Hmm.”
The fragrance differed from Lenar’s stew, which she’d tasted before.
It was somehow more complex, and….
“Smack.”
Without thinking, Selene smacked her lips.
Just the aroma alone told her everything.
This stew was deeper than any stew she had ever known.
“Oh, what a meal! Much obliged!”
Ignoring Dale’s noisy spoon-scraping, Selene gazed slowly at her bowl.
For something made in thirty minutes, the broth was murky and rich, as if it had simmered for hours.
The meat nestled within it was tender, coming apart gracefully along the grain, and the root vegetables held their shape while absorbing the broth.
What is this? How did she do it?
She dipped her spoon, lifted a piece of meat to her lips.
‘….’
There was no sensation of chewing.
The meat simply melted away on her tongue.
No burst of juice—instead, it dissolved gently, gradually, into nothing.
The kiwi’s fragrance brushed past for an instant before vanishing without a trace, leaving only the venison’s own deep, understated flavor.
Gulp.
Eagerly, she lifted a spoonful of broth and brought it to her mouth.
The butter, herbs, and broth were mingled as if they’d simmered together for ages—deep, substantial, weighty.
As she swallowed, a comforting warmth settled in her chest.
Selene lifted her spoon again.
Another spoonful.
And once more.
Clink.
“…!”
When Selene came to her senses, her spoon was already scraping the bottom of the bowl.
Glancing to the side, she saw Dale practically licking his bowl clean.
Bael, the quietest of them all, was already sitting calmly with his bowl empty.
His eyes, which she had always found inscrutable, now gleamed with evident satisfaction.
Selene slowly set down her spoon and gazed at Luciel, standing at a distance, chattering with the other kitchen staff.
With her bright green eyes sparkling as she laughed, she looked no different from any ordinary fourteen-year-old girl.
‘Was this it?’
Looking beyond the surface?
This stew—and Luciel, the cook who made it—possessed a depth that could never be fully understood from appearances alone.
* * *
The Primordial Forest, located on the outskirts of the Imperial City, stretched vast in all directions.
This woodland, which had maintained its form since ancient times, held every manner of beast.
Not just ordinary forest creatures, but things that ought only to exist at sea or on mountain peaks were occasionally found there.
The spaces suitable for nobility’s hunts—where no great predators emerged—lay in the forest’s central and northern regions.
At the entrance of this northern forest stood twenty-one participants in a line.
Five of them stood slightly more forward than the rest.
The others either hung back from the start in uncertainty, or stood behind Theo or Edwin, positioned to support one of those two.
Two young men, nearly eighteen years old, flanked Isolde on either side.
Theo was part of a group of seven.
The intent was obvious.
Selene and Dale stood side by side.
A faint, contented smile had lingered on Dale’s face since earlier.
‘Bael is over there, then.’
Luciel watched from a distance, in the spectator’s stand among the others.
Though positioned on a hillside gave her an overview of the forest, it was too far away to discern individual people clearly.
Once they entered the forest, even that much visibility would be lost.
The Duke issued a command to the aged Head Butler.
Several Crystal Spheres rose into the air.
A type of magic ordinary people could never access.
Telekinesis.
‘So the Head Butler was a Mage Scholar.’
One Crystal Sphere reflected each participant.
With these, they would be able to see what unfolded in the forest from a distance.
The Duke raised his hand in a signal.
It was the start.
The sound of hoofbeats erupted all at once as the participants galloped toward the forest.
Theo was fastest, followed by Selene.
But Bael did not move.
“…What is he doing?”
The Duke watching from above widened his eyes in frustration.
Cain and the others wore the same bewildered expression.
In that moment, Estelle, visible within a Crystal Sphere, tilted her head slightly.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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