TGDHC Chapter 115

Chapter 115 – The Grand Duchess’s Chef

“It’s still morning… are you sure you’re up for this?”

“Of course!”

I quickly answered before Loic could even think of taking the stew away.

He entered the room, carrying a tea tray.

“Oh my goodness!”

I forgot all dignity and crawled across the bed on my knees to greet the tomato stew.

“Would you like to eat in bed?”

“No! I’ll eat at the table.”

There was no way I could trust myself not to spill red soup all over the white sheets.

Swallowing in anticipation, I sat down at the table as Loic placed the dish in front of me.

Steam rose gently from the bowl, and the spicy scent of pepper instantly made my mouth water.

‘It’s been so long since I had stew!’

Even though Madam Marie had once given me her recipe, I hadn’t been able to taste tomato stew in ages.

I’d wanted to ask Verney to cook it just like Madam Marie’s version, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it—he might’ve felt hurt or offended.

‘And it’s been forever since I went to an inn, too…’

Just as I was about to dive into the bowl like a starving soldier, Loic added quickly,

“It’s hot. Please let it cool first.”

His expression was so worried that I exaggeratedly blew on the spoon, making sure he could see I was cooling it properly.

Only after he looked somewhat reassured did I take a big bite.

The tangy tomato pieces slid down my throat with a satisfying warmth.

I felt as though all the heaviness in my chest had finally cleared away.

‘Ahh, this is the taste!’

“Does it suit your taste?” he asked.

“Id’sh delishus,” I mumbled with my mouth full.

“…I’m glad.”

Loic smiled gently as I mumbled through a mouthful of stew, tears of joy practically welling in my eyes.

As I was devouring it like someone who hadn’t eaten in days, he asked curiously,

“You like it so much… why didn’t you ask Verney to make it earlier?”

“Oh, actually, I did get the recipe from Madam Marie, but…”

After I explained my reason, Loic frowned slightly.

“So you endured all this time just because of that?”

He looked like he had a lot more to say, but instead, he simply pushed the bowl of stew a little closer to me.

“There’s plenty. Please eat as much as you like.”

“But wait—how did Verney even know Madam Marie’s recipe?”

I blinked. ‘I never gave it to him… Did Sir Leon tell him?’

When I looked up in confusion, I noticed Loic’s ears turn slightly red.

“…Verney didn’t make it,” he admitted.

“What? Then… did Madam Marie come here and make it herself?”

“No.”

Loic hesitated, cleared his throat, and said quietly,

“I made it.”

“…What do you mean, you made it?”

I stared at him blankly, not quite processing the words.

“Wait, you’re saying you cooked this?”

“Yes. I learned the recipe from Leon during my last expedition,” he explained.

“You went into the kitchen? Yourself? Into the actual kitchen?”

Loic nodded while I repeated the question several times in disbelief.

“But… why?”

If he said just one word, Verney would’ve brought him anything he wanted—why cook it himself?

“Because it’s something Annette likes,” he said simply. “I wanted to make it for you myself.”

At that, I froze with my spoon halfway to my mouth.

Inside, I was fighting not to lose my composure entirely.

‘A man who can cook spicy tomato stew perfectly? That’s… cheating!’

“This isn’t fair,” I muttered.

“What?”

“You should at least have one thing you’re bad at.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Being good at swordsmanship, leadership, and cooking? That’s just too much,” I grumbled.

“Oh.”

Only then did Loic realize it was a compliment, and a faint smile touched his lips.

“Still,” I said, trying to sound stern, “don’t cook again, okay? Poor Verney will be terrified for his job.”

“Understood.”

“But today, I want another bowl,” I added with a grin.

Loic’s eyes softened, clearly pleased.

“I’ll bring it right away.”

While he stepped out, I swallowed the last of the tomato stew. The warmth spread through me, filling me with new energy.

‘Let’s not overthink things. Everything will work out somehow.’

Along with the hot tomato stew, I swallowed my worries, too.

“I really don’t know anything!”

Lady Meisel sprang to her feet, her jeweled dress jingling loudly.

“Please sit down, Lady Meisel,” Hedrick said evenly.

Scowling, she reluctantly sat again, frustration and fear mixing on her face.

She had received a letter from her father earlier that day, stating that the Grand Duke himself would question her personally.

‘Make my hair big and elegant! Use the flashier necklace! No, not that dress—the bright pink one I had tailored by Lamondria!’

The reason didn’t matter.

She was going to meet the Grand Duke face-to-face—that alone was thrilling.

So she had spent hours dressing up before heading to the Grand Duke’s castle.

But instead of being led to his reception room, the knight guided her to a plain interrogation chamber.

“H-here? I’m supposed to meet His Grace here?”

How could they bring the future Grand Duchess—at least in her mind—to such a shabby room?

‘Is His Grace still being controlled by that Duchess?’

However, when the door opened, it wasn’t the Grand Duke who appeared—but Hedrick, the gray-haired vice-captain of the knights.

“Is His Grace not coming?” she demanded.

Hedrick’s calm, unimpressed expression only infuriated her more.

“Then call Sir Tiern instead!” she snapped.

“The questioning will be conducted by me,” Hedrick replied coolly.

Without a hint of sympathy, he began what was more like an interrogation than an interview.

“You’re saying you gave this brooch to the head maid for no particular reason?”

“How many times do I have to say it? I just felt bad for the poor old woman and gave it to her!”

Even after repeating herself, Hedrick kept circling back with the same questions, wearing down her patience.

‘This man is impossible!’

Just when she thought the matter of the brooch was finally over, Hedrick slid another document toward her—a bank withdrawal slip.

“What did you use this money for?”

“T-that’s…”

It was the same money Marzella had taken from her to hire people to throw eggs at the Grand Duchess.

‘If I’d known this would happen, I’d have agreed on a story with her!’

“I only lent her some because she said she needed money,” Meisel said quickly, feigning confidence.

Marzella wasn’t exactly loyal, but she was clever enough to know she’d need Meisel’s help to get out of prison.

‘She won’t betray me—she can’t afford to.’

“You didn’t ask why she needed it?” Hedrick pressed.

“If you were close enough to give her such an expensive brooch, shouldn’t you at least have been curious?”

“How should I know what she does in her personal life? She asked, so I lent it, that’s all!”

She crossed her arms and muttered irritably, “If you’re that curious, go ask her yourself.”

“She’s not in a condition to speak,” Hedrick said coldly.

Meisel froze for the first time, her lips clamping shut.

Hedrick sighed softly as he watched her pale, trembling yellow eyes.

With this level of evidence, it would be hard to formally imprison a count’s daughter.

Still, the Grand Duke clearly wanted both the count’s family and the lady to face punishment.

All Hedrick could do was summon her here, intimidate her, and hope she would confess something useful.

‘Though she doesn’t look the least bit intimidated,’ he thought grimly.

Even the great Hedrick was growing weary of her shrill voice.

Through the small window set into the stone wall, the evening sun was already dipping low.

‘This is getting nowhere.’

“For now, you may return to your estate,” he said. “His Grace will decide the formal punishment later.”

“What?!”

Meisel shot to her feet, her face turning red.

“Punishment? For what?! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

As Hedrick stood, she cried out again,

“Please, let me see the Grand Duke! I’ll explain everything to him myself!”

“The Grand Duke is not someone you can meet at will,” Hedrick replied flatly.

“Then at least let me see the head maid!”

“That’s not possible.”

“Please!” she begged.

“She’s like a mother to me! I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Her tone had changed completely from earlier, when she’d shouted that he should “ask the maid directly.”

“I only want to check if she’s well,” Meisel said desperately. “Please, at least let me give her a blanket for the night.”

She lifted a small basket she’d brought with her.

Hedrick hesitated.

‘If she’s trying to silence the maid…’ he thought.

But perhaps it would be better to grant her a meeting and watch for suspicious behavior rather than refuse outright.

“Please,” she whispered, clasping her hands together. “I can’t sleep from worry. If she did something wrong, I’ll persuade her to confess. Just give me one chance to talk to her.”

Tears shimmered convincingly in her eyes.

“…Very well,” Hedrick said at last. “But only for a few minutes. If you do anything suspicious, the next cell over will become your own.”

Meisel flinched at his sharp gaze but nodded quickly.

And so, Hedrick granted her permission to meet with Marzella.