The heavy oak doors of the manor swung wide, welcoming us into the warmth of the foyer. The transition from the biting, silvery chill of the night to the smell of roasting garlic, star anise, and caramelized fat was intoxicating. The head cook, Sinel, a woman with streaked hair and a perpetually kind smile, greeted us with a slight bow.
"Welcome back, Lady Roxy, Master Maine," she said, her eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement as she took in our slightly disheveled appearances and flushed cheeks.
I couldn't help but ask, my stomach betraying my composure with a loud, traitorous growl.
"What's on the menu tonight, Sinel? Tell me it's something to soothe the soul."
Sinel smoothed her apron. "Indeed, my lady. The kitchen has prepared a slow-braised pork belly, simmered in a dark soy glaze until it pulls apart at the lightest touch of a fork."
Maine and I exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated longing. We nearly leaped from our boots, our fatigue momentarily forgotten in the face of such a delicacy. We practically sprinted toward the dining hall, the polished floors echoing with the sound of our frantic footsteps.
The dining room was a long, cavernous space, but tonight, the atmosphere was intimate. In a break from traditional decorum, we took our seats at the long table alongside the household servants and maids. There was a comfort in the camaraderie, a shared warmth that felt far more genuine than the cold, stiff formality of nobility.
The first bite of the braised pork was transcendent. It was melt-in-the-mouth tender, the savory, umami-rich fat dissolving instantly on the tongue.
The manor's dining hall was warm and bustling, the air rich with the deep, savory aroma of the slow-braised pork. As I sat alongside the maids and servants, I felt a rare sense of peace. The head maid placed the plate before me, and the sight alone was enough to make my mouth water…the pork was glistening in a dark, glossy reduction, the meat clearly so tender it was practically falling apart on the ceramic.
"Goodness, It's beyond delicious. It's perfect."
I took another bite, and this time, it was paired with hot and fluffy bread, carefully taking a small piece. As it hit my tongue, my eyes widened. The pork didn't just fall apart; it melted. The savory-sweet glaze was perfectly balanced, the fat had rendered down to a rich, buttery consistency, and the tender meat seemed to dissolve into a symphony of flavors that warmed me from the inside out.
I couldn't help but let out a soft, involuntary moan of pure delight. I turned to Maine, who was equally captivated by his own plate, and then looked around at the staff, my face beaming.
"This is absolutely divine. It's not just food…this is a five-star meal. I don't think I've ever tasted anything quite this perfect."
One of the maids let out a delighted giggle, clearly pleased by the praise.
"We're so glad you enjoy it, Lady Roxy. It's an old family recipe from the estate."
"It's incredible, a one-of-a-kind meal." I muttered
I insisted, taking another generous bite. Even the lingering weight of my injury…the phantom pain of my missing arm…seemed to retreat for a moment, pushed back by the sheer, unadulterated joy of such an exquisite dinner. I leaned into the comfort of the moment, happy to simply eat, laugh, and be present with the people who had become my chosen family.
Maine nodded vigorously, too busy devouring his portion to speak, his face bright with satisfaction.
The braised pork was really something. Each bite was amazing. The meat was so tender it just fell apart. The flavor was incredible. I closed my eyes. I just enjoyed the taste thinking that this was definitely a five-star meal.
Then the atmosphere in the room changed. The maids, who are usually very quiet, started looking at each other. One of them who was a bit braver than the others spoke up. She leaned forward. The sound of the silverware stopped for a moment.
"Lady Roxy, please forgive us, " she said, her voice shaking a little.
"What is it? Feel free to ask me."
"We do not want to bother you while you are eating. We are worried. We have to ask: how is your arm doing?. Is the special medicine you are making in the lab actually working? Also when did Luke and Luck arrive at the house? We just saw Luke in the guest wing this morning."
I stopped eating with my fork halfway to my mouth. The pork in my stomach suddenly felt like a rock. I do not like it when people ask me questions when I am trying to relax. I felt like I had to say something.
I put my fork down making a noise that got everyone's attention.
"My arm is just like you see it. It is a stump that hurts all the time, a reminder of what happened in the ravine. It is okay. Only because it has stopped bleeding." I said, trying to sound calm
I took a breath looking at the maid who asked about my work, the cure I've made since that morning. The maid noticed i was holding thirty vials at the time, so I recalled it and answer its next question thoroughly
"As for the medicine. I am a researcher, not a magician. Making medicine is about trying and failing. The stuff I am making is not stable yet. It is not a cure for a missing limb. It is just to stop the wound from getting worse. So no it is not working like you want it to. It is just slowing down the damage."
I did not stop there. I talked about Luke and Luck.
"Luke arrived at dawn brought by the Bureau messenger, I cured his brother very recently and was undergoing a rehabilitation program. If you saw them sneaking around it is because they are here to do a job not to make friends with the staff. I think you should focus on your work and not pay attention to the guest wing or you might mess up their job."
The room was very quiet. The pork did not taste good anymore. I felt bad about what I said. I stood up. The chair made a loud noise on the floor. I did not look at the shocked faces. I turned around. I walked out leaving the meal, the questions and the concern, behind me. Maine followed me. When we got to the hallway I felt very alone.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of laughter and shared stories. Once the plates were clean, the exhaustion finally caught up with me. I headed toward our shared quarters, my mind spinning with the events of the evening.
"I think I'm going to call it a night, Maine," I said as we reached the doorway.
But Maine stopped short. He looked toward the balcony, his eyes wandering toward the sprawling, moon-drenched flower fields beyond the manor's edge.
"I... I think I'll take a walk. Just for a moment. To clear my head."
I instantly knew what was going on, he was feeling guilty about me. All the memories and experiences around me started to revolve his own piece of mind.
"Don't look at me with that. I understand, look, Maine. You're a researcher, not a savior."
I waited for a retort, for his usual quiet, bookish defense, but he didn't give it. I turned, ready to lash out again, only to find him staring past me, his gaze fixed on the balcony doors. The moonlight hit his face, and for a second, he looked just as shattered as I felt.
"I'm not trying to save you, Roxy, I'm just trying to survive the night without falling apart myself." he said, his voice unusually raw.
He didn't wait for my response. He turned and strode toward the flower fields, his back rigid, his silhouette swallowed by the shifting shadows of the estate.
I simply nodded, feeling a strange, hollow ache in my chest that had nothing to do with my injuries. I entered our room alone, the silence of the space settling over me like a heavy blanket. I ignored the sudden feeling of abandonment, convincing myself it was just the aftermath of a long, emotional day. I crawled into the soft linens of my bed, the lingering scent of the evening's dinner still clinging to my clothes, and within minutes, the exhaustion pulled me under into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"When does this nightmare end?"