The Possession-Spoon Chef Feeds the Empire - Chapter 58

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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 58
The last course was the Chocolate Sphere.
Unlike the dishes served before, there was only one dessert.
“How does one eat this?”
“Please pour the contents of the teapot over the sphere, Your Majesty.”
When the Emperor asked, Luciel answered in a composed voice.
Pour—
The Emperor took up the teapot and slowly poured the hot chocolate over the sphere.
“Oh!”
The Emperor and Empress cried out in unison. Arnen’s widened eyes could not leave the chocolate.
As the hot liquid cascaded down the sphere, the dark chocolate melted slowly away, revealing a golden caramel beneath.
It was as though something that had been cradled within an egg was now shedding its shell and entering the world.
“Ah…….”
The Emperor and Empress collected the flowing caramel with their spoons, placed it in their mouths, and closed their eyes in rapture.
Serion gazed at the melting sphere, then picked up his spoon.
The moment the mixture of chocolate and caramel touched his tongue, sweetness flooded it, only to be cut sharply by salt that came after.
It was not merely sweet.
The sweetness came, then broke away, and afterward a blend of sweet and salt lingered, leaving an echo on the palate.
Click.
Serion set down his spoon and steadied his quickened heartbeat.
From first to last, not a single taste had been what he expected.
Another long silence fell.
“……Wow!”
It was the youngest prince, Arnen, who broke the silence with applause and an exclamation.
“It was delicious! The most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life! Father, Mother, Brother—wouldn’t you agree?”
The bright eyes of the still-growing boy sparkled with happiness.
“It was certainly exceptional.”
“I have not been surprised by food in a long time.”
The Emperor and Empress wiped the chocolate from the corners of their mouths and nodded in agreement.
The atmosphere, which had been thick with tension, seemed to warm in an instant.
The attendants who confirmed the Emperor’s reaction smiled, and Debron and Edwin, watching from a corner, exhaled in relief—it was finally over.
Only Serion remained silent.
He simply sat with his plate cleaned before him, his wolf-like eyes fixed upon Luciel.
“You said your name is Chef Luciel? How old are you, exactly?”
The Emperor asked, making no effort to hide his curiosity.
“In three more months, I’ll be fifteen.”
“Remarkable skill at an age even younger than Serion…… Bael, were you the same age at that time?”
“I was.”
Bael replied.
“Those Gloves—you controlled the temperature with your own Magical Power, yes? Instantaneous Temperature Control and the formation of a boundary layer for it, that sort of thing?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. At Luciel’s request, the Head Steward of our house had them made.”
“The Head Steward of Bellaon…….”
“Barkcliff, a Mage Scholar who once served as a professor at the Royal Academy.”
An attendant at the Emperor’s side whispered.
“I and the Head of Staff went to such lengths to bring Mage Scholar Barkcliff to the Imperial Mage Tower…….”
The Emperor shook his head and spoke.
He was recalling Barkcliff’s face as he waved his hand, saying that his senior student had already decided to go to the Tower, and that he should be left in peace to pursue easier work.
“The Duke certainly is blessed with fortune.”
He clicked his tongue.
Nothing about the device had been easy—not the conception, nor the implementation, nor the practical application.
Yet the Duke possessed the talent to accomplish it all.
Especially this cook.
Luciel had shown the Emperor—a man who boasted of having tasted every cuisine in the world—an entirely new realm.
Not only was the process of making the food itself remarkable, but each bite felt like experiencing paradise.
Even Serion, whose fastidious tastes exceeded even the Emperor’s, had visibly been shaken.
The Emperor felt genuine jealousy.
He had forgotten the doubts he harbored before the cooking began—about her skill and Bael’s true intentions as her assistant.
A thought crossed his mind: surely the cook should be in his service, not the Duke’s, should she not?
“I’ll speak plainly.”
He looked down at Luciel and spoke again.
“Come to the Imperial Palace. I will treat you with honor.”
Everyone’s eyes widened.
Arnen’s sparkled with excitement, and so did the Empress’s.
Even Serion’s eyes seemed to hold some expectation.
“The moment you are appointed as Imperial Chef, your name enters the official records of the Empire permanently. An Appointment Certificate bearing the Imperial Seal will be issued, and with that credential alone, you will never want for food or sustenance anywhere in the Empire. Every noble family will vie for your services.”
He smiled warmly, looking down at Luciel.
“The fact that you cooked in the Imperial Palace is as good as the entire Empire guaranteeing the worth of everything you create.”
“…….”
Luciel seemed about to answer, but the Emperor, not noticing, continued with a benevolent smile.
“It is something else entirely from spending your life as a cook for the Bellaon Family. Choose any Imperial Chef you wish as your mentor, and I will…….”
“It seems…… difficult, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm?”
“It would be difficult.”
The Emperor tilted his head in confusion.
In her small voice, she had clearly refused his command.
“Did you just…… reject my recruitment, the Emperor’s own offer?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Why?”
“First, because of a contract.”
Luciel looked up, meeting the Emperor’s gaze, and answered.
“I am bound by contract to the Bellaon Family for the next fifty years.”
“Oh, fifty years?”
The Emperor struck the armrest of his chair with a thud.
Was the Duke not simply an unscrupulous employer abusing his position?
A fifty-year contract was as good as the Duke deciding to eat nothing but Luciel’s cooking until the day he died.
“Wily old fox!”
He muttered under his breath.
“Is this not indentured servitude? I should meet the Duke of Bellaon at once and…….”
“If I may be so bold, Your Majesty.”
A calm boy’s voice reached the Emperor’s ear.
It was Bael Bellaon.
“Luciel is currently responsible for my health.”
Bael said.
“I promised to remain at her side until my complete recovery, so I cannot let her go, regardless of the family contract.”
“Complete recovery? But you’re already well.”
The Emperor spoke with a baffled expression.
“There are aftereffects. For instance, if I sit for too long, my legs become very numb.”
“…….”
The Emperor was at a loss for words.
My legs grow numb too, you boy.
Mine go numb even when I don’t sit long!
What sort of mockery is this from a young, healthy fellow?
But Bael’s words were not finished.
“If I don’t sleep, I become tired. If I don’t eat, I grow hungry. If I consume spoiled food, my digestion suffers.”
Bael listed these commonplaces as though they were medical conditions, his expression grave.
He did not blink once.
His steadfast posture and firmly set jaw belonged to someone with no intention of backing down, however false his complaints.
“Yesterday, I kept my eyes open for a long time, and they grew dry.”
From beginning to end it was nonsense, yet it was clear he would not yield an inch.
“……I understand what you’re saying.”
The Emperor exhaled a sigh and muttered.
A seemingly innocent fourteen-year-old cook might have been bent to his will through imperial authority.
But if her master came at him like this—and if that master was of the Bellaon Direct Line—the Emperor found it difficult to press further.
“Very well, I shall let her go. But understand, this is not the end.”
He spoke.
“Tell the Duke that if he does not bring Chef Luciel to the palace from time to time, I will march on him myself.”
“I shall remember it.”
Bael bowed his head and met Luciel’s gaze.
A brief smile crossed both their lips.
The Emperor looked down at the two and clicked his tongue once more.
They said the boy resembled his father closely, and more distant still, his grandfather, and it seemed the saying had truth to it.
Bold before the Emperor, unbowed by his presence, turning his mind like gears—an infuriating fellow indeed.
* * *
“Phew.”
Walking through the Garden, Debron wiped his chest for the fifth time.
Everything had ended well.
The Emperor was happy, the Empress and Crown Prince likewise, and Debron’s standing at court was secure.
Now, on his return, he would finally write a letter to his wife.
She had seemed in poor spirits lately, but a letter describing his standing at the Imperial Court would surely…….
It was at that moment, as he quickened his pace toward the Imperial exit, that—
“Stop.”
A low command came from behind.
It was a voice flat and steady, one that sent ice water running down the spine.
“Your Highness, the Crown Prince…….”
A boy with scarlet hair and fierce golden eyes like those of a beast regarded Debron and his party.

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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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