The steam rose from the oven in a fragrant, spicy cloud as Ione, clad in a pair of oversized oven gloves, carefully retrieved the tray of freshly baked gingersnaps.
She set it on the counter with a soft clink, and the heat shimmered above them, carrying the warm, comforting scent of ginger, cinnamon, and molasses into the kitchen air.
The cookies themselves were a deep, burnished amber, crinkled and crackled across the top like a sunbaked desert floor. They looked rustic and honest, each one a little imperfect, which only added to their charm.
Ji Hoon and Ione both stared at the tray, then their eyes met. Ione's gaze was wide, her golden eyes dilated with a childlike wonder and excitement he had never seen in them before.
This was her first true, success. Ji Hoon looked back, a soft, genuine smile gracing his lips. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated pride.
He had watched her struggle through four failed batches, her ears drooping and tails drooping with each mistake, but she had never given up.
This fifth tray represented her stubborn perseverance, and that, to him, was more impressive than any perfect bake.
"Should we have some?" Ji Hoon asked gently.
Ione seemed to startle, her gaze snapping from his face back to the cookies as if she'd been caught admiring a treasure she wasn't supposed to touch.
She looked at them with a possessiveness that was almost maternal, as if they were her children and eating one would be a small tragedy.
"O-Oh! Yes, of course!" she quickly stood up, straightening her apron and gesturing nervously towards the tray. "After you, young master. Please... tell me how it tastes."
Ji Hoon's smile widened. He selected a cookie from the edge of the tray, still warm against his fingers. He brought it to his mouth.
~Crunch-Crunch~
The sound was sharp and satisfying, the cookie breaking with a clean snap.
The initial flavor was a robust, fiery kick of ginger that warmed his tongue, immediately followed by the deeper, earthy sweetness of molasses and a hint of cinnamon spice.
The contrast was perfect—the heat danced with the sweet, neither overpowering the other, creating a complex, comforting melody on his palate.
The texture was firm yet tender, dissolving into a spicy-sweet crumb that begged for another bite.
He opened his eyes, which he hadn't realized he'd closed to savor the moment, only to find Ione still staring at him, her body leaning forward slightly.
Her expression was one of pure, unguarded curiousness, her fox ears tilted forward, every fiber of her being waiting for his verdict.
He didn't need to say a word. The answer was in the relaxed lines of his face, the warmth in his ocean-blue eyes, and the simple, heartfelt smile that reached them.
"Ione," he said, his voice soft but full of conviction. "It's delicious. Truly."
Ione's face lit up, a disbelieving smile breaking through. "Really?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Really," Ji Hoon confirmed, his own smile warm and genuine. "I'm actually surprised. You're a fast learner—maybe even faster than I was when I started."
The compliment landed, sending a fresh wave of heat to Ione's cheeks. A spark of pure, unadulterated pride shone in her golden eyes. "Thank you, Young Master," she said, dipping her head in a grateful bow.
"Don't just thank me, taste it," he urged, gently steering her attention back to the tray. "A cook needs to be the first critic of their own work."
Nodding eagerly, Ione selected a cookie and took a careful bite.
Crunch.
Her eyes flew wide. She covered her mouth with her hand, but the emotion was unmistakable. "I... I actually made this?!" she managed through the mouthful, her voice muffled but bursting with wonder. "It's so... delicious!"
Ji Hoon's smile softened, watching her unbridled joy. A quiet, nostalgic thought surfaced in his mind. "You know what these would be perfect with?" he mused aloud.
"A glass of sweet wine. Gingersnaps and wine... it was a pairing I always liked in my..." His voice trailed off, the last two words slipping out in a near-whisper, "...past life."
Ione's ears twitched, catching the unfamiliar term. She swallowed her bite. "Did you say something, Young Master?"
"Ah, it was nothing," he said, shaking his head as if to clear a distant memory. He looked at Ione, a new, practical thought striking him. "Anyway, are you even of age? I just realized I don't know how old you are."
"Oh! M-My age?" She straightened up, her tails giving a nervous flick. "I'm twenty. In human years."
"Twenty?" he echoed, a little surprised. "So, you're older than me." The unspoken thought, 'At least in this body,' hung in the air. "Well, that settles it, then," he mumbled, already moving on. "So, I'll need to find some wine..."
He trailed off, a faintly ridiculous feeling washing over him. His family literally owned a winery, and he had no idea where they kept it.
"Do you know where the wines are stored?" Ji Hoon asked, the heir of the house asking his maid for directions.
Ione thought for a second, her ears twitching in concentration. "Oh, I think they're in the mini storage, behind the garden."
"Then lead the way."
After a short walk, they reached a small, stone-built storehouse. Inside, a forest of wine barrels greeted them, stacked in neat rows. The air was cool and thick with the scent of oak and a fruity, fermented sweetness.
"Woah..." Ji Hoon whispered, walking slowly through the rows, his fingers trailing over the aged wood.
The sight and smell were a time machine. For a moment, he wasn't in a fantasy manor's cellar, but back on a school trip during his pastry certification.
He remembered the chill of a different cellar, the guide's voice echoing as he explained tannins, terroir, and fermentation.
He could almost taste the samples they'd been given—a sharp, dry white paired with a lemon tart, a rich, berry-heavy red alongside a dark chocolate ganache.
They had spent a whole day learning the alchemy of pairing, how a wine could elevate a dessert from simple sweetness to a complex conversation of flavors.
"Young master! Over here!" Ione's voice called from the back, pulling him from the memory.
He blinked, the ghost of a Zinfandel fading on his tongue. He followed her voice to where countless bottles slept on dusty shelves
Reds, whites, rosés—the variety was staggering. His eyes scanned the labels until they landed on a slender bottle with a pale golden liquid. He picked it up.
Sunset Blush, the label read. A late-harvest white, notes of apricot and honey.
He uncorked it carefully, and a wave of sweet, floral aroma with a hint of ripe stone fruit filled the space around them. It was perfect.
"I'll take this one," he said firmly.
Back in the kitchen, Ji Hoon grabbed two glasses and the tray of gingersnaps. He sat at a small table, but Ione remained standing.
"Sit down," he told her.
"Oh no, I shouldn't, Young Master. I can't dine with you," she refused, wringing her hands.
"It's fine, it's just us. Sit down. Consider it an order if you want."
Reluctantly, she perched on the very edge of the chair opposite him.
Ji Hoon poured the golden wine, the liquid catching the light. He slid a glass toward Ione. She accepted it with both hands, holding it as if it were made of glass.
"To your first successful bake," he said, raising his glass with a small smile.
Hesitantly, she mirrored him. They each took a sip. The wine was sweet and smooth, like liquid honey and summer peaches, coating the palate.
Then, they each took a bite of a gingersnap.
Crunch.
The spicy, fiery kick of the cookie met the lush sweetness of the wine, and something magical happened. The wine tamed the ginger's heat, while the cookie gave the wine a bold, spicy backbone.
The flavors didn't just mix; they danced, each making the other taste brighter and more alive.
Ione's eyes widened in shock, then fluttered closed as she savored the combination. "It's... it's different together," she breathed, amazed.
Ji Hoon just smiled, watching her discover the joy of pairing, his own heart feeling strangely, warmly full and watching her unguarded delight.
Absently, he swirled the golden wine in his glass, the liquid catching the lamplight. His mind, never truly at rest, drifted from the cozy kitchen back to the looming, echoing dome of the Tholus Culinarius.
'Only eight of us left, meaning the next round is probably the quarter finals.' The thought was a cold stone in his gut. The competition would be a slaughterhouse of skill from here on out.
No more room for simple flourishes. He needed something undeniable, a dish that spoke not just of technique, but of soul. 'What can I make? What ingredient can I master next?'
His thoughts spiraled, chasing each other in a frantic circle, just like the wine swirling in his glass.
Round and round. Technique, flavor, presentation. It all blurred together into a problem with no solution.
The warm, spicy aftertaste of the gingersnap lingered on his tongue, a direct result of the rich molasses he'd used. It was a strong, distinct flavor.
His mind, always connecting ingredients, jumped to a spirit that was famously made from molasses: Dark Rum.
Its deep, caramelized sweetness would be a perfect bridge, able to stand up to bold flavors while adding a complex, woody warmth.
He glanced at the "Sunset Blush" in his glass. It was perfect for this moment with Ione, but for the arena... he needed something with more power, more fire.
'Maybe I could use a dark rum...'
A practical problem surfaced. Did this world even have rum? He'd never seen it. But then, a slow, confident smile touched his lips.
'Even if they don't have it here, I could always make some.' His Alchemy skill wasn't just for altering states; Tier 2 Transmutation was for combining and creating.
Given the right base ingredients—maybe a strong alcohol and some heavily caramelized sugar—he could will a facsimile of dark rum into existence. It wouldn't be a century-aged masterpiece, but it would carry the essential, robust flavor he needed.
His thoughts raced ahead, a plan crystallizing. He mentally reached back to the slip of parchment he'd received after the first round, the one with the official rules he'd only skimmed at the time.
He focused, recalling the specific clause: "Contestants may supplement their dishes with personal ingredients, provided the core theme ingredient provided by the Ministry is prominently featured in the final presentation."
That was it. That was the opening.
He could bring his own creation—his own alchemically-transmuted dark rum—as long as the Sea Sugar, Shell-Boar yeast or whatever legendary ingredient they unveiled next, remained the star of the show.
The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He wouldn't just be using an ingredient; he would be bringing a part of his own crafted arsenal, a secret weapon born from the memory of one life and the magical tools of another.
His gaze lifted from his swirling glass and settled back on Ione. She was holding her own glass with both hands, a look of pure, serene contentment on her face as she savored the harmonious pairing, completely unaware of the storm of strategy she had just inspired.
Seeing her like that, so peaceful and happy, solidified his resolve. The frantic pressure of the competition melted away, replaced by a calm, focused determination.
In the quiet kitchen, with the simple perfection of a cookie and a glass of wine, the world outside—and the battle within it—felt thrillingly within his grasp.