Renzo slumped in a rattan chair in the corner of the cafeteria, his stomach still heavy with the tender, crispy-edged beef ribs from lunch. His eyelids were fighting a losing battle.
He wasn't sleepy, he was waiting. Waiting for Aunt Maggie's molten chocolate cakes to come out of the oven at precisely three o'clock.
That cake was his essential afternoon ritual: a crisp shell wrapping a warm, gooey chocolate center that dripped from the corner of your mouth when bitten into, best eaten with a spoon so none of it went to waste.
For that treat, he was even willing to leave his comfy library lounge chair half an hour early. Such "diligence" was unheard of at Marine Headquarters.
CLANG!
A sudden crash from the kitchen shattered Renzo's drowsy calm.
He frowned and slowly raised his head. Normally by now, Aunt Maggie would be emerging with a tray, cheerfully calling, "Commodore Renzo, your dessert's ready!" But today, there were only hurried footsteps and anxious voices.
Renzo pushed against the armrests, taking a full ten seconds to stand, like a wilted reed swaying in the sun, as he shuffled toward the kitchen.
At the doorway, he found Aunt Maggie crouched in front of the oven, clutching a screwdriver, eyes red. Beside her stood a young mechanic in coveralls, scratching his head with a troubled look.
"What's wrong?" Renzo's voice was low and raspy from half-sleep, his gaze fixed on the silver oven. The door was ajar, the inside dark and empty, the heating coils cold and dead, the indicator light off.
"Commodore Renzo!" Aunt Maggie looked up at once, panic in her tone.
"The oven's broken! The heating coils won't start, and the circuit board's fried! The repairman says it'll take three days to get the parts!"
The mechanic nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. It's a special model, Headquarters doesn't have spares. We'll need to order them from the South Blue base…"
"Three days?" Renzo's brows knitted tight. For the first time, something other than sleepiness or boredom crossed his face, genuine anxiety.
An afternoon without cake was as unacceptable as a dinner without grilled meat.
He bent down to inspect the oven. The metal casing was still faintly warm, the handle smeared with a bit of chocolate, clearly it had been used that morning.
He reached out, lightly touching the cold heating coil. "How did you even break…" he murmured.
"Tell me about it!" Aunt Maggie sighed. "I preheated it early, wanted to bake you a double batch. But the moment I put the batter in, there was a loud pop and the light went out…"
Renzo didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the dark control panel, its dead indicator light like a cat refusing to open its eyes.
He hated trouble. More than that, he hated "missing dessert because of trouble."
"Don't break," he muttered suddenly. His voice was soft, but it carried a quiet, absolute certainty.
He wasn't speaking to Maggie or the mechanic, it was like he was talking directly to the oven.
"Huh?" The two stared at him, confused.
Then, something strange happened.
The oven's indicator light, dead for the last half hour, gave a soft click, flickered faintly, then steadied into a warm orange glow.
A low hum followed as the heating coils glowed red once again, radiating gentle heat.
Aunt Maggie's screwdriver clattered to the floor. "It-it's working again?!"
The mechanic's eyes bulged. He rushed over, opened the oven door, tested the coil with his hand, then grabbed his multimeter. "No way! It was showing a short circuit just now… How's it all normal now?!"
Renzo ignored their astonishment. He simply looked at the oven and said, almost impatiently,
"Set temperature to 180 degrees. Bake for twenty-five minutes. Don't burn it."
The moment he finished, the oven's control panel beeped to life, the numbers jumped from 0 to 180, the timer locked at 25:00, and the preheat bar began to climb steadily. It was as if the oven instinctively knew how to bake the perfect molten chocolate cake.
"My goodness…" Aunt Maggie gasped, quickly grabbing the bowl of batter. She carefully poured it into the molds and slid them inside.
The instant the door closed, the timer began counting down. The heat stabilized at exactly 180 degrees, without a flicker of deviation.
The mechanic checked and rechecked with his multimeter before finally scratching his head. "Ma'am, it's, it's really fine now! The circuit board's perfect, coils normal… This oven just got too lazy to stay broken?"
"What do you mean lazy to break!?" Aunt Maggie scolded, but her grin quickly returned as she turned to Renzo.
"It's all thanks to Commodore Renzo! You must've blessed the oven yourself!"
Renzo didn't explain. He just shuffled back to his rattan chair in the dining hall.
He didn't care whether the oven was "fixed" or "too lazy to malfunction." He only cared about getting his cake in twenty-five minutes.
While the mechanic was still baffled by the mystery, Aunt Maggie bustled happily around the kitchen, whipping cream, slicing strawberries, humming as she worked. As long as she could bake Renzo his dessert, she couldn't be happier.
Twenty-five minutes passed in a blink.
Ding!
The timer chimed. Aunt Maggie emerged, holding two golden cakes, one placed before Renzo, the other sealed in a thermal box.
"Commodore Renzo, your double portion! This one's for Rear Admiral Ain, she helped me carry flour last time. Could you deliver it for me?"
Renzo's eyes lit up instantly.
A dusting of cocoa powder covered the cake's surface. As the knife cut through, molten chocolate oozed slowly out, filling the air with its rich aroma.
He didn't bother with manners, just scooped up a big spoonful. The warm chocolate melted on his tongue, and for a moment, all thoughts of "trouble" vanished.
"Good," he mumbled through a mouthful of cake.
"If you like it, have more!" Aunt Maggie beamed. "Tomorrow I'll bake matcha flavor, the new powder smells divine!"
Renzo simply nodded. As long as there was cake, returning to the cafeteria tomorrow wasn't a bad deal.
After finishing his portion, he picked up the thermal box Aunt Maggie had prepared and ambled toward the medical center.
Ein was still doing rehab there. Bringing her cake was a decent way to "thank her for that mango mousse last time." And maybe… she'd keep saving him a library seat.
In the garden, Ein sat on a bench doing arm stretches. She wore a pale gray hospital gown, sunlight glinting off her short Marine-blue hair. She looked much better than before.
"Ain." Renzo walked up and handed her the box.
She blinked, then smiled as she opened it. "Molten chocolate cake? From Aunt Maggie?"
"Mm." Renzo leaned against a tree, half-closing his eyes. "She asked me to bring it to you."
Ein took a bite, her eyes curling into a smile. "Still warm. Delicious."
After two bites, she pulled a small wax paper packet from her pocket and handed it to him. "Here. Strawberry mochi. Made this morning, I was going to bring it to you tonight."
Inside were two soft pink daifuku, filled with fresh strawberries and a hint of cream. Renzo didn't hesitate, he took a big bite. The sweet-tart fruit balanced the chocolate's richness perfectly.
"Good," he said again, this time with genuine warmth.
They sat together in the quiet garden, one eating mochi, the other cake.
No words were needed.
The breeze rustled the trees; medics' distant chatter drifted over. Everything felt calm and just right, no noisy banquets, no pirate commotions, only the scent of dessert and a rare, peaceful moment.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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