"It will taste bad regardless," Min-jae said. "Medicinal food always does."
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. "So you are not allowed to complain."
Yura barely made it two steps into the kitchen before realizing she was not alone.
Several maids were already moving about the space, one kneading dough near the long table, another tending to a pot simmering over the hearth, and a third sorting vegetables into neat baskets.
Conversation hushed the moment Yura entered, eyes flicking toward her and then quickly away.
She paused, then straightened her back.
"Good afternoon," she said, tone polite but brisk. "I need the smaller pot. The one for tonics."
One of the older maids nodded at once and retrieved it from the shelf, placing it in front of her without question.
News of Min-jae's condition had already spread quietly through the household, even if the reason had not.
