9

The soup bowl was empty. Completely empty. Cassian calmly set down his spoon, while the chefs in the royal kitchen continued to stare at him in disbelief. Their king had just finished two bowls of soup. Edgar, the head royal chef, even rubbed his eyes several times.

“Your Majesty.”

Cassian looked up. “Yes?”

“Was the soup really that good?”

Cassian thought for a moment. “Even better than that.”

Aurora, who was clearing the table, immediately blushed. “It’s just ordinary soup.”

Cassian shook his head. “No.”

“Then what’s different, Your Majesty?” Edgar asked, very curious.

Cassian considered the question for a moment. “It reminds me of something.”

Edgar tilted his head. “Of what, Your Majesty?”

Cassian looked down at the empty bowl. “A meal that’s meant to comfort people. It doesn’t feel like it was cooked just to fill an empty stomach.”

Then he looked at Aurora, who was now busy washing the pots she’d used for cooking. “This soup tastes like home.”

Aurora stopped what she was doing. Home. It had been so long since she’d heard someone describe her cooking that way. Usually, people would just say, “It’s delicious,” or “Make it again tomorrow.” But no one had ever said that her cooking evoked a sense of comfort. Without realizing it, a small smile appeared on Aurora’s lips.

At the same time, at the Silver Pine Pack, the atmosphere in their main kitchen turned chaotic.

“It’s way too salty!” A warrior immediately spat out the soup he’d just taken a sip of.

“How much salt did you put in this?!”

The new cook who had replaced Aurora panicked. “I-I was just following the recipe.”

 “Whose recipe?”

The new cook slowly looked exhausted. “I followed every recipe Aurora left behind.”

“That’s impossible!” the warrior shook his head vigorously. “I’ve been eating Aurora’s cooking for five years, but it’s never tasted like this!”

Several other warriors nodded in agreement. “That’s right!”

“The bread is really hard, too!”

“The meat is too dry and tough to chew!”

The new cook was on the verge of tears. “I really tried my best...”

The Pack Elder, who happened to be passing by, let out a long sigh. Everyone suddenly realized one thing. Aurora wasn’t just a skilled cook,  she also understood the tastes of every member of the pack.

The soup for the children was always made a bit thinner. The warriors’ meals were higher in protein. The Elder was served a lighter menu. Aurora always remembered everything, without ever being asked.

Meanwhile, in the Alpha’s office, Ryder Thorn was reading the daily report. Damien, his Beta, stood in front of the desk.

“Anything else?” Ryder asked curtly.

Damien nodded. “The warriors are always complaining about the food.”

“Our new cook is still adjusting to their recipes and preferences. That’s only natural.”

Damien didn’t answer right away. Instead, he placed another sheet of the report on the desk.

“There’s also a problem in our pack’s healing room, Alpha.”

Ryder frowned. “What does that have to do with it?”

“Of course it does. It’s related to the food concoctions Aurora makes.”

Ryder looked up. Damien then explained. “All this time, Aurora has been mixing certain herbs into the food for the wounded warriors. The pack healer also said that their healing process is now slower than usual.”

Ryder fell silent. He had never known about that. All this time, Ryder had simply thought that Aurora was just an ordinary chef. It turned out she was doing far more than Ryder realized. Damien spoke again, slowly.

“Alpha.”

“Yes?”

“You really haven’t paid any attention to what Aurora has been doing for our pack all this time, have you?”

Ryder frowned. “I knew she was doing her job in this pack.”

Damien shook his head. “No. You knew she cooked. But you never realized everything else she was doing.”

***

At the Moonveil Dominion, Aurora was helping Edgar organize the ingredients.

“If these potatoes are stored near the onions...”

Aurora shook her head gently. “The potatoes will sprout faster that way.”

Edgar immediately moved the basket. “Then what about these?”

“Don’t wash the mushrooms yet. Just wash them right before you cook them.”

Edgar nodded in admiration. “Lady Aurora.” Aurora turned to look at him. “Where did you learn all this?”

Aurora gave a small smile. “I learned from my mother.”

“Was she a chef, too?”

Aurora nodded. “My mother always said,” she paused for a moment, recalling her mother’s face. 

A face she hadn’t seen in a long time. “If we cook with a calm heart, then the people who eat it will also feel calm. Food remembers the feelings of the person who cooks it too.”

Edgar looked thoughtful. “Do you believe that?”

Aurora nodded. “I do. Maybe not magically, but people can tell when a meal is made with care.”

Edgar smiled. “I’m sure your mother is a wonderful woman, Lady Aurora.”

Aurora nodded slowly. “Yes, she’s the best person I’ve ever known.”

As evening approached, Cassian had been returning from a meeting when he noticed someone sitting by the lake. From a distance, he saw Aurora sitting alone near a small lake. She was holding an old cookbook, but she wasn’t really reading it. Her gaze seemed vacant. Cassian approached her.

“May I sit with you?”

Aurora was a little surprised. “Of course.”

Cassian then sat down beside her. Silence enveloped them for a few moments.

“Are you missing your mother?”

Aurora turned to him, startled. “How did you know?”

Cassian nodded toward the cookbook in her hand. “You’ve been holding that cookbook this whole time.”

Aurora smiled wistfully. “This is a keepsake from my mom. There’s always a little note next to every recipe.”

Aurora opened one of the pages. Written there in handwriting that had begun to fade were the words.

‘If Aurora makes this soup, don’t forget to add a little mint. You always forget to do that.’

Aurora chuckled softly. “I do always forget.” Her eyes began to well up. “I also always got scolded for tasting the food too much.”

Cassian smiled too. “In that case, I’m very grateful to your mother.”

Aurora blinked. “Grateful for what?”

“Because she taught you how to cook.” Cassian gazed at the lake, which reflected the afternoon sunlight. “Otherwise, I might never have tasted the best soup of my life.”

Aurora immediately laughed softly. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No.” Cassian shook his head. “I rarely repeat myself.”

Aurora studied the man’s face. It seemed Cassian was truly very serious about what he’d said. Aurora looked at him for a moment. Cassian rarely used many words. Yet whenever he spoke, he sounded sincere. For some reasons she couldn’t quite explain it, but that made it easier to believe him.

***

At the same time, far away at the Silver Pine Pack, Ryder stood in front of the main kitchen, which now looked deserted. His gaze immediately fell on the wooden table where Aurora used to knead bread dough. There were still knife marks on the surface of the wooden table. Vaguely, he recalled a morning several months ago. Aurora had once handed him a basket of warm bread.

“Alpha, don’t skip breakfast. You have a long meeting today.”

At that time, Ryder hadn’t even looked up from his documents. He’d simply said, “Just put it over there.”

Aurora nodded and left, without ever complaining once. Ryder closed his eyes. For the first time, he asked himself.  How many of Aurora’s small acts of kindness had Ryder failed to notice all this time?

Ryder rested one hand on the old wooden table. For years, that table had always been clean before dawn. Fresh bread had always been waiting after every patrol. Medicine had always appeared before anyone thought to ask. He had assumed those things simply happened.

But now, the kitchen felt strangely quiet. Not because Aurora was gone, but because only after losing her, did he begin to notice how much of the pack had quietly depended on her. Ryder looked away. He wasn’t certain whether replacing a cook would be enough.