Chapter 10
“So, Nanny, you’re saying you need one person to lead the cookie-making and one to assist? Preferably one man and one woman?”
“Yes, that’s right. And if possible, people with kind faces. The Young Master is still afraid of tall or rough-looking people.”
“Then how about one kind-looking man and one kind-looking woman? Ah! Does age matter?”
“Age doesn’t matter much.”
“Hmm… Then I think Chef Jeffrey and Abelin would be good. What do you think, Porle?”
Mary, the head maid, stood beside Marisel. Her hair was neatly twisted up into one bun, with strands of gray showing here and there. She was small but full-figured, and she carried the dignity of long experience.
“Sounds perfect,” Porle agreed.
“Jeffrey is a bit large, but not too tall. He’s older, has a bit of a belly, and his eyebrows droop very gently, so he doesn’t look intimidating at all. His personality is just as warm. And his baking skills—well, there’s nothing more to say. Abelin is his senior assistant, so they work very well together. She’s naturally bright and kind. They would be more than suitable to serve the Young Master.”
Mary explained in detail.
As Marisel listened, she felt as if she could already see them standing before her.
They were exactly the kind of people she had hoped for.
Fleur needed a situation where she could slowly overcome her fear of adult men—someone male, but not threatening, in a joyful environment.
This was perfect.
Marisel felt as if Mary had scratched exactly where she was itching.
“Wow, Head Maid, just listening to you makes me feel excited already.”
She spoke honestly.
Mary looked slightly flustered. She had only done her job, yet she felt praised.
She had never received this kind of compliment before. Strangely, it felt even better than direct praise.
“I’m glad you’re looking forward to it, Nanny.”
Mary’s voice trembled shyly with a smile.
Cookie Day was set for three days later, between lunch and dinner.
“Nanny Marisel, how did you even come up with such an idea?”
“Does it sound unusual to you as well, Butler?”
Marisel smiled knowingly.
Well, of course it sounded unusual. She wasn’t originally from this world.
She had a feeling she would face many reactions like this in the future. Perhaps she needed one universal answer ready.
“Young Master, it’s finally our Cookie Time. Shall we go down to the kitchen?”
Marisel held out her hand. Fleur, now used to it, took it without hesitation.
Like a mother and child, their joined hands swayed gently as they walked.
“Aren’t you nervous? The soft, squishy feeling of flour dough—just thinking about it makes me happy! And we invited the very best baking expert in the Grand Duke’s house!”
Marisel’s excited voice made Fleur even more excited.
Fleur squeezed her hand tightly, her eyes shining with anticipation.
“We’re here.”
They entered the kitchen.
“Welcome, Young Master, Nanny.”
“I am Chef Jeffrey.”
“I am Assistant Abelin.”
Just as Mary described, Jeffrey had drooping eyebrows and a large build with a round belly. He looked warm and gentle, not scary at all.
Abelin had brown hair and a youthful face. She looked capable and bright.
The moment they saw Fleur, they froze in surprise.
She was far cuter and lovelier than they had imagined.
‘Ah… so adorable.’
Abelin clutched at her chest.
Fleur’s clear sky-blue eyes, chubby cheeks, silky black hair, and little suspenders over a white shirt—she looked unbelievably cute.
‘What luck I have,’ Jeffrey thought. To think that at his age he would teach the heir of the Grand Duke’s house how to bake cookies.
“Please put this apron on first.”
Abelin handed an apron to Marisel.
Fleur’s apron had a small embroidered baby bear on it.
‘When did they even prepare this?’
Marisel admired Mary’s thoughtfulness.
Fleur had been a little stiff at first, but with Marisel’s help she quickly adjusted.
Once the cute apron was tied on, it was almost worrying whether they could focus on cookies at all instead of just admiring Fleur.
Clap, clap.
Marisel clapped her hands twice.
“Alright! We’re all ready. Shall we begin?”
Standing on a small platform to reach the table, Fleur’s nervous eyes sparkled.
“Let’s begin. First, put this much butter into the bowl. Then press and mash it like this.”
Jeffrey guided Fleur gently, as if teaching a grandchild.
Fleur and Marisel both enthusiastically mashed the butter.
“Is it done? Then let’s crack some eggs in another bowl.”
Jeffrey led them skillfully and spoke playfully.
“You’re all doing very well. I’m already curious how today’s cookies will turn out! Next, sift the flour like this.”
Fleur used her small hands to scoop flour and shake the sieve with all her strength.
The white flour fell softly like snow.
Fleur stared at it as if she were standing in a winter snowfield.
Marisel looked at Fleur with overflowing affection.
After several steps, Jeffrey introduced the final stage.
“Now, we’ll add fresh white milk from the Grand Duke’s ranch.”
But then—
As Fleur mixed the dough, some unmixed milk splashed onto Marisel’s face.
Marisel froze in surprise.
Fleur stiffened, her face darkening.
At that moment—
“Hey! How dare you attack me with a water gun!”
Marisel grinned mischievously and rubbed flour onto Fleur’s nose.
Fleur blinked blankly, then realized it was a joke and laughed along.
“Young Master, please wipe it for me.”
Marisel leaned her face closer.
Fleur naturally wiped her cheek with her dough-covered hand.
Instead of cleaning it, she left a white streak like a silly mustache on Marisel’s cheek.
“Pfft—Ahahaha!”
Abelin burst out laughing.
“Ha—hahaha!”
Jeffrey joined in.
Even while apologizing, they couldn’t stop laughing.
Abelin quickly brought a mirror.
Marisel looked into it.
She looked like a kindergarten child with dried white snot stuck to her cheek.
It was ridiculously funny.
Marisel laughed loudly. The kitchen filled with laughter again.
Then she playfully dabbed some dough onto Fleur’s forehead and showed her the mirror.
A small white horn appeared.
Fleur’s lips twitched—then she burst into bright laughter. A small sound escaped too.
“Alright, let’s finish the dough so we can move to the next step.”
“Yes~!” Marisel answered like a child.
Laughter bloomed once more.
Finally, the dough was ready.
“You can press the mold like this, or shape it with your hands. I’ll make a cat shape like this—”
They followed Jeffrey’s guidance.
Then suddenly—
Fleur stopped moving.
With tear-filled eyes that looked ready to overflow, she gazed at Marisel pitifully.
