Chapter 98

Next up is Cooking. I head over to the culinary practice room, where Princess Margaret immediately gestures for me to come over.

“Patience, let’s do our cooking together!”

The setup looks remarkably similar to the home economics rooms from my previous world. However, instead of large communal tables, there are medium-sized islands equipped with… water faucets? Stoves? Knives, cutting boards, and a neat storage space underneath for frying pans and pots.

“These are magic tools, aren’t they?”

When I place my hand on the magic stone of the water faucet, water flows out cleanly.

“My word, it’s just like the baths back at the dormitory.”

Aside from the choice between cold and hot water, the principle is exactly the same.

“And this is a magic stove. Ah, look, there’s even an oven built under the counter!”

What incredible facilities. If we had the ingredients, I would love to bake some cookies or a cake right here.

“Well, you already know how to bake sweets, don’t you, Patience?”

“Yes, but my lady’s maid was always so fussy about it that I never got to physically bake them myself. I would simply hand the recipes to the chef and give instructions.”

“Even that is amazing. I’ve never so much as stepped foot inside a kitchen before.”

Hearing that, this cooking class fills me with nothing but absolute dread.

“Hello, everyone. I am Maggie Spencer, and I will be teaching you cooking,” the teacher announced. “Our objective for the spring term is for each of you to cook your own lunch. The reason this practical class is held in the morning is because you will be eating your creations right here. If you don’t take this seriously, you’ll be going without lunch.”

The entire classroom breaks out into a loud buzz. While the noble girls are entirely used to skipping meals for dieting, the idea of having a class stretch all the way through their lunch break is utterly unbearable.

“Ms. Spencer, lunch break is supposed to be our free time,” Catherine argued. She certainly has a lot of nerve; I’ll give her that.

“Yes, and as long as you finish cooking and eating within the class period, there will be no issue. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, however: I absolutely tolerate no waste of ingredients. Anyone who leaves food behind will receive a failing grade. Since this is a mandatory subject, that means you will automatically fail the year.”

A chorus of shrieks echoes through the room. Failing a year means facing a horrific scolding from one’s parents. Worse yet, failing to graduate from the Royal Academy means you won’t be able to get married. If anyone were to fail a year, their engagement would likely be canceled on the spot.

“Now, now, I would never force an absolute beginner to cook something unreasonable. Today, we will be focusing on egg dishes. Listen carefully, and let us begin.”

Everyone listens to Ms. Spencer’s explanation with desperate focus. As for me, I could make boiled eggs with my eyes closed. I just make sure to note the fire adjustment for the magic stoves.

“Now then, a simple boiled egg isn’t going to satisfy a young lady’s appetite, even if she is on a diet. We shall accompany it with soup and bread. Is there anyone who would like to volunteer to make the soup?”

When no one raises their hand, I raise mine. I can easily whip up a soup while simultaneously keeping an eye on my boiled eggs.

“Splendid. Young lady, please come up and assist me. The rest of you, begin making your boiled eggs.”

I place Princess Margaret’s eggs and mine into a small pot, pouring in just enough water to submerge them. I also toss in a tiny pinch of salt, just in case any of the shells crack.

“Princess Margaret, once the water begins to bubble, please press this timer—I’ve set it for ten minutes. Then, use this ladle to gently roll the eggs around inside the pot.”

Meanwhile, at the other islands, the girls are struggling just to locate their pots. Ah, look at that group—using a massive stockpot like that is going to take ages just to bring the water to a boil.

“Your name is Patience, correct? I’ve heard about you from Mr. Jefferson,” Ms. Spencer says with a smile. “Well then, please help me prepare the soup.”

Given the season, we are making a turnip potage. I peel the turnips and drop them into a large stockpot.

“Fufufu, I cheated just a little bit and prepared the soup stock ahead of time. Now, while this simmers, I must walk around and check on the tables.”

I skim the foam off the soup while keeping a watchful eye on Princess Margaret from afar. I’m fairly certain her water has come to a boil, but did she actually set the timer? By all appearances, she looks to have completely forgotten.

“Princess Margaret, please set the timer,” I call out.

Snapping out of her daze, she hastily presses the timer button.

“And remember to gently roll them around with the ladle.”

“Ah, that’s right!”

Oh dear, watching her is so nerve-wracking.

“You can stop rolling them now.” Even if the yolks end up slightly off-center, it won’t affect the taste at all.

Across the room, I can hear Ms. Spencer checking up on the girls using the giant stockpots, scolding them roundly.

“Patience, could I trouble you to run the turnip soup through the sieve? I honestly didn’t expect them to struggle quite this much over simple boiled eggs.”

She sets out a sieve and another stockpot for me, so I begin gradually ladling the soup into the sieve to strain it into the fresh pot.

“We’ll add some fresh cream to this, season it with salt and pepper, and it will be complete. Thank you, Patience, you’ve been an immense help.”

From there, Ms. Spencer briskly puts the finishing touches on the soup.

I return to Princess Margaret’s station. Her timer hasn’t gone off yet, but since she was late setting it, the eggs are undoubtedly fully cooked by now, so I transfer them into a bowl of cold water.

“Why are you putting the boiled eggs into cold water?”

“Doing this makes the shells incredibly easy to peel. They should be cool enough now.”

Since Princess Margaret has never peeled a boiled egg in her life, I demonstrate the proper technique for her.

“If you gently tap the egg against a flat surface, the shell won’t pierce into the egg itself. Then, you simply peel it open starting from the cracks.”

Following my example, Princess Margaret manages to peel her boiled egg beautifully.

“My word, it slipped right out of the shell!”

We slice the boiled eggs in half and arrange them neatly on our plates, bringing our very first cooking session to a successful close.

The two of us sit down and look around the room, but the air is filled with dramatic shrieks that make it hard to believe people are just preparing boiled eggs.

“Eek! It dropped on the floor!”

“Oh no, the inside isn’t even cooked yet!”

Princess Margaret looks on with a deeply worried expression.

“Patience, you are definitely going to receive a completion certificate and leave me behind. I wonder who I should pair up with next time?”

I scan the practice room. Catherine and her group are out of the question—they disqualified themselves the moment they chose that massive stockpot. I point out a few girls who had the sense to select small pots to Princess Margaret.

“Yes, you’re right. Girls like them would probably keep a sharp eye out and warn me if I’m about to make a mistake.”

While Princess Margaret is relying entirely on others here, I suppose it can’t be helped given the circumstances.

After quite a significant amount of time has passed, everyone somehow manages to finish cooking their boiled eggs.

“Come up and collect your soup and bread,” the teacher calls out.

Today’s lunch is remarkably simple: turnip potage, bread, and a boiled egg. Well, it’s still far more luxurious than what we used to eat back at the Granger house.

“I am absolutely starving,” Princess Margaret sighs. The midday bell has already rung.

“Yes, let us eat.”

The turnip potage is absolutely delicious, which makes sense since it used Ms. Spencer’s own seasoned soup stock. The bread is the exact same high quality served up in the upper salon.

“To think a boiled egg could taste this delicious,” Princess Margaret beams, thoroughly enjoying the very first boiled egg she cooked herself.

However, the students who botched their eggs are forcing them down with miserable expressions.

“Oh gross, the inside is completely gray! Ms. Spencer, this egg is rotten!”

They had simply overcooked it. The teacher scolds them promptly for their ignorance. Other students who completely mangled their eggs while peeling them, or whose yolks burst out of the sides, are pleading, “May I please leave this behind?” only to be roundly lectured by Ms. Spencer.

“Patience, I am feeling incredibly anxious about our future classes,” Princess Margaret whispers. It’s true that there is an abundance of rather disastrous-looking boiled eggs around the room.

“You’ll be perfectly fine, Your Highness. You simply need to listen carefully to Ms. Spencer’s instructions and follow them exactly. The teacher explicitly said to use a pot that fits the eggs—she never told anyone to use a massive stockpot. And she told us to pour in just enough water to submerge the eggs and add a pinch of salt, right? Furthermore, once the water boils, you set the timer for ten minutes and roll the eggs with a ladle. Once the timer rings, you plunge them into cold water, tap them against a flat surface when cooled, and peel them.”

Princess Margaret stares at me, completely struck blank with astonishment.

“Patience, your memory is absolutely incredible. I completely forgot to even hit the timer button.”

I see. Perhaps memorizing an entire sequence of steps all at once is genuinely difficult for someone who has never done it before.

“You’ll feel much more secure if you simply write down Ms. Spencer’s explanations in a note beforehand.”

“Ah, you’re right! I shall do exactly that from now on.”

Ms. Spencer had been listening to our conversation, letting out a warm laugh.

“Patience, you clearly have no need for a cooking class. I shall grant you your completion certificate. As for you, Princess Margaret, taking notes is an excellent habit. Do give it your best.”

Brilliant. Even without me around, it looks like Princess Margaret will be in perfectly safe hands with Ms. Spencer.