The kitchen wasn't huge, but it was comfortably functional, built with the assumption that a small group of students would be running back and forth.
Counters lined the walls, cupboards sat above them, and the mana lights were brighter here, their steady glow reflecting off polished metal utensils and clean cutting boards.
The air smelled faintly of flour and soap, the ghost of previous attempts lingering in the wood.
Lilliana moved first, calm and efficient, stepping toward the cupboards as if she had been in this kitchen a hundred times.
She opened one door, then another, checking supplies, already mentally sorting what they would need for a tart.
Esper followed with the casual confidence of someone who could delegate an entire household without raising her voice, reaching for bowls and placing them on the counter with purposeful ease.
Louise hovered half a step behind Esper, eyes wide, taking in the kitchen like it was a playground designed specifically for her, hands flexing with contained excitement.
Olivia stayed near the edge for a second, shoulders still a touch tight, but once she saw the organisation forming, her breath eased out.
She stepped in closer, gaze flicking between ingredients and stations, as if she was already calculating ratios in her head.
Soren planted his hands on the main counter and looked at them all.
"Let's figure out stations. Lilly, you're on tart duty. That means prep and baking for your station, but I'll handle oven timing if we need to juggle."
Lilliana nodded, ears lifting, visibly pleased to be trusted with something that was hers.
"Olivia, you handle berries, cream, and assembly. If you want help with whipped cream, ask, but don't let Louise near it unsupervised."
Louise made a scandalised sound.
"Excuse you—!"
Soren didn't even look at her.
"You can prove me wrong later if you're really offended."
Louise puffed her cheeks, then immediately brightened again, because she was simply having fun.
"Well, whatever, Essy and Sis, cupcakes and decoration. That includes making them look presentable enough that the report doesn't sound like you just stuffed every decoration you could find onto them."
Esper's smirk returned.
"I feel like you're looking down on us a bit too much, Cutie~ Can't you tell from the way we look that we have good aesthetic sense?"
"..."
Soren didn't reply, just stared at her with a deadpan expression, until the reason for his lack of confidence cut through the silence.
"We're going to make them so cute. They'll be cute enough to start wars."
Louise clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling.
"I want little faces. Different expressions. Some happy, some angry—"
"What were you saying again, Essy?"
Esper let out a quiet laugh, the sound brief and surprisingly light, then cleared her throat as if she had never done it.
"Fine. You've made your point. I'll make sure things are good."
Soren stared at her.
"...You're not exactly trustworthy either, you know?" he muttered
Then he turned to himself and let out a sigh, because someone had to anchor the chaos.
"...I'll handle the pudding. That's mixing, baking, timing, and making sure nothing gets burned."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep them again.
"Rule one: no running. Rule two: if you're holding something sharp or hot, you announce it. Rule three: if anyone tries to use a spell in here, I'm kicking them out."
Esper lifted her hands in surrender.
"Relax, Cutie. I'm not igniting frosting."
Olivia nodded quickly.
Soren exhaled, satisfied, then stepped toward the cupboard for ingredients, already moving through the motions.
Flour, sugar, cinnamon, and honey; he pulled them out, stacking them neatly at his station.
His hands moved with familiarity, the kind he had built up over years of doing small domestic things for survival and enjoyment.
Cooking, for him, wasn't just a hobby.
At first, it had started out as purely a chore.
Something that Aria couldn't manage, so he did it alone every day.
Somewhere along the way, however, it became something he enjoyed.
The smiles, the laughs, the genuine sincerity people showed when they enjoyed his food, it was what turned a chore into something he truly enjoyed.
Behind him, the sound of movement grew: bowls clinking, cupboard doors opening and closing, the low murmur of conversation.
It wasn't loud, but it was constant, and it made the kitchen feel lived in.
Through the half-wall, he could still hear Lev and Felix in the dining room, voices carrying just enough to be understood.
"This is torture," Felix complained, dragging the words out as if he wanted the whole world to suffer with him.
Lev responded with the bitter tone of a man who had already suffered and was now being asked to suffer creatively.
"Stop whining and write. If you write it wrong, we'll have to rewrite it."
"Why are there so many boxes?" Felix's voice turned accusing, as if the form had personally betrayed him. "Who needs this much detail about… mixing techniques?"
"People who don't want clubs to exist just for fun," Lev said.
Felix made a noise of deep despair.
Soren's lips twitched.
He didn't look back toward the dining room, but he didn't need to.
The image was easy to picture: Felix slumped dramatically over the paper, Lev stabbing at the form with increasing violence, and Alex sitting between them with the serious intensity of a mediator.
And Amelia…
She had followed him in, of course she had, slipping into the kitchen behind the group and taking up position near his station the way he had told her to, because being close wasn't a question to her, it was simply the correct arrangement.
She stood with her arms loosely at her sides, eyes tracking his hands, watching the ingredients and tools with a quiet focus that always surprised people who didn't know her well.
She wasn't fidgeting.
She wasn't bored.
She looked interested, in her own blunt way.
Soren reached over without thinking and gave her head another gentle stroke, a brief reassurance, then returned to measuring flour.
Amelia leaned into the touch, satisfied, and stayed exactly where she was.
"Okay," Soren said, voice carrying just enough to reach everyone over the steady kitchen sounds. "Let's be smart about this. I know that's difficult with this group, but we should at least try."
Esper's brows lifted.
"Bold strategy."
Soren ignored her and continued, because ignoring Esper's bait wasn't worth the hassle.
"Cupcakes go in first, because they bake faster and cool faster. Tart crust can go in after. Pudding goes in last because it needs the oven steady and the timing matters."
Lilliana nodded once, already reaching for butter and dark chocolate, expression focused.
Olivia moved to rinse berries, sleeves pushed up carefully, her hands quick and practised once she started.
Louise grabbed a mixing bowl with the reverence of someone handling a sacred artefact, while Esper, composed as ever, began measuring flour with the kind of precision that suggested she would never allow a recipe to humiliate her.
The kitchen settled into rhythm.
It wasn't perfect.
Louise kept leaning too close to the counter, and Esper kept nudging her back with a light tap, not unkind.
Olivia paused once to check where a utensil went, then relaxed when Lilliana answered without hesitation.
Soren found himself glancing between stations automatically, watching for the moment where something might go wrong so he could intercept it before it did.
Nothing went wrong.
Not yet, anyway.
And even if it did, the room didn't feel it was about to fall apart.
It felt normal.
A group of people making dessert together, bickering lightly, sharing tools, existing in the same space without that sharp edge of fear pressing at every silence.
Soren stirred his mixture slowly, watching it turn glossy, orange zest catching the light as it curled through the batter.
Amelia's eyes followed the motion, and when he held the spoon slightly toward her, she leaned forward without hesitation, tasting with careful seriousness.
Her expression didn't change much, because Amelia rarely wasted energy on theatrics, but her eyes softened.
"Good," she said simply, and the word landed with the weight of an official verdict.
Soren huffed a quiet laugh.
"Yeah? Good."
She nodded again, satisfied, and stayed close, ready to taste whatever he offered next.
Behind them, Louise gasped excitedly over something, probably the first successful cupcake face.
Esper made a pleased, smug sound in response.
Lilliana's ears flicked in mild amusement, though her hands never stopped working.
Olivia's shoulders eased more and more with each minute, as if the kitchen noise was drowning out whatever fear she'd carried in with her.
Soren smiled at the scene.
————「❤︎」————