Chapter 12
1284 Words
Third Person’s Point of View
When Geraldine left the dining hall, Mike’s eyes drifted back to the plate set before him. It was not like the other dishes he had been served countless times. Those had been imported from prestigious kitchens abroad, prepared by professional chefs, yet they had always failed to stir his appetite.
No matter how carefully plated or expensive the ingredients were, the food never tasted right to him. He had grown used to forcing a few spoonfuls into his mouth only to satisfy hunger enough to keep him functioning. Nothing more.
But this morning, something felt different. The one who had prepared the meal was not a famous chef but a peculiar maid, a woman who had introduced her dish with dramatic flair and called it her “special omelet.” He could still recall how she spoke with such confidence, explaining every ingredient as though it were the most important creation in the world. Her antics had almost made him smile. Almost.
Shaking his head, Mike picked up the spoon and fork beside his plate. His eyes studied the egg resting perfectly on a bed of fried rice. To his surprise, there was even a smiley face drawn in ketchup along the side of the plate.
“So childish,” he murmured under his breath.
Despite his skepticism, he took a bite. The flavors burst across his tongue, halting him mid-motion. His brows furrowed, and for the first time in years, his lips parted slightly in awe. Slowly at first, then with growing eagerness, he ate again, and again.
Cooker and Manang watched in stunned silence as their Master continued eating until the plate was empty. His gaze shifted to the cup of coffee. Normally, he detested anything but pure black, yet he lifted it without hesitation and drank. The warmth lingered, balanced by the subtle creaminess she had added. He closed his eyes as if savoring it.
“Was this all her doing?” he asked, setting the cup down.
“Yes, Master,” Cooker replied quickly. “She only used the ingredients already in your kitchen.”
Mike nodded slowly. He dabbed the corners of his lips with a handkerchief, his expression unreadable.
“Call her. She is the one I need.”
Both women widened their eyes at his words. Never had he spoken of a maid in that tone before.
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Geraldine’s Point of View
I pouted as I walked back into the dining hall, only to see Mike staring at me intently. On his table, the plate was completely clean. He had eaten everything.
So he had been acting difficult earlier, yet in the end, he had enjoyed my cooking.
“You are Girlie, correct?” His voice was deep, commanding.
"Yep.”
Manang nudged me with her elbow, signaling me to be polite. If I failed here, I knew I’d get scolded. Still, I couldn’t stop the pout on my lips.
“Yes, I am. Girlie Dell, Master,” I answered, lowering my gaze.
“Tell me why you seem so high-strung right now,” he pressed.
Manang stepped forward, ready to rescue me. “Master, forgive Girlie if she—”
“I am not asking you, Manang,” he interrupted, his gaze never leaving me.
Manang fell silent. His eyes bore into mine as he demanded, “Answer me.”
I crossed my arms unconsciously. “Because I was still eating when you ordered me here. You made me stop in the middle of my meal.”
“You are that hungry? Do you not know the rules of my mansion?”
I bit my tongue, forcing myself to breathe. Calm down, Gerry. Don’t let your sharp tongue get you into trouble. You are supposed to be lighthearted and cheerful, not reckless.
I sighed and lifted my head to meet his eyes. A mischievous thought sparked in my mind. If he thought he could intimidate me, then I would surprise him instead.
“I was not aware of your rules, Master. If you don’t want me here, then I will leave this mansion.”
Both Cooker and Manang gasped softly at my boldness.
Mike’s brows arched. “Why would you leave? You accepted this job, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I was not respectful toward you earlier. Besides…” I pressed a hand over my stomach with a faint wince. “I do not feel well today.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll just go.” My voice softened into a sad tone as I turned to walk away.
“Stop where you are.”
My lips curled into a secret smile, though I kept my back to him. Slowly, I turned to face him.
“I liked your dish. Is that enough to make you stay?”
Everyone froze at his words, including me. My eyes widened.
“Eh?” was all I managed to say.
“I’ve tasted your food, and it is delicious. It is the first meal I have truly enjoyed in my entire life.”
I frowned, tilting my head. “Why does that sound so dramatic? Like an exaggerated line from a movie?”
His lips twitched, and he smirked faintly. “I only copied the way you introduced your so-called special omelet.”
I burst into laughter, shaking my head. “Copycat.”
Rolling my eyes, I watched him rise from his seat. His movements were calm, but I could sense the shift in the atmosphere. He was different. He was… softer.
My gaze fell to the empty coffee cup. “And how about the coffee, Master?”
“Not bad,” he replied simply before striding out of the room.
I pouted again, watching his retreating back. “That’s it? Just leave like that? Such a killjoy.”
Cooker stepped closer, her eyes wide with amazement. “Girlie, we had no idea your cooking could be this good.”
I blinked at her, caught off guard.
“How did you make that omelet taste like that? It wasn’t ordinary. It was something else.”
“Eh? It was just a normal omelet. I only called it special to make it sound fancy.”
“Teach me,” she pleaded. “If you keep cooking like this, you’ll become his personal cook.”
I shook my head quickly. “No way. My next task is not in the kitchen. I’m moving on tomorrow.”
Without waiting for her response, I returned to the kitchen and resumed eating. I ignored the stares from the other maids, who looked at me as though I had done something wrong. Let them stare. I didn’t care.
When I finished, I leaned back in my chair, ideas forming in my head. If Master liked my breakfast, then I would prepare something even better for lunch. I wanted to prove to him—and to myself—that I was worthy of being more than just another maid.
“This time,” I whispered with a smile, “he will not be able to resist.”
I slipped on my apron once more, determination blazing inside me. Cooker entered, surprised to see me at work again.
“You’re cooking again, Girlie?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said with confidence. “And this time, you will help me.”
Her eyes widened. “Eh?”
I smirked, already gathering ingredients. He’ll fall even harder for my cooking. In the end, he’ll choose me. I cannot afford to fail this mission. I need his trust. The position of his personal maid will be mine.
Buwahahaha.
I think I sound like a villain?
******
LMCD22
- Writer
