Chapter 296: This is the Pastry Club (4)
It was a strange turn of events—a Duke who had reached the pinnacle of magic was now striving to master the art of pastry-making. Could it be that the Mage Duchess, who had left an indelible mark on continental history, had wandered down an odd path... all because of me?
“Isn’t it a good thing? She’s lived her whole life without a hobby, but now she finally found something she enjoys even if it’s a little late.”
Marghetta’s words made a lot of sense. Generally, a Duke’s private life wasn’t a topic even the Ministry of Intelligence could freely discuss. But nobilities, being part of society, socialize. Thus, their hobbies and tastes naturally circulated within certain social circles. It wasn’t like they only met with the blind, deaf, or mute, so it was inevitable that these details leaked out.
Yet, despite over a century of ruling, very little was known about the Mage Duchess. As a child, she had avoided the public eye due to her elven heritage, and she dedicated herself entirely to magic and kept very few personal connections when she became a Duke. Even if she did get close to someone, they would inevitably age and pass away before too long.
“She must have been so lonely all this time. Her closest vassals have passed, and the other mages of her generation were gone, too. That must be why she chose to focus on magic.”
Her sympathetic tone tugged at my heartstrings.
She was right. The Mage Duchess, with her extremely limited relationships and the natural distance created by her mixed race, had spent her entire life isolated in her tower, pouring herself into magic. That choice had earned her the title of the ‘Mage Duchess,’ but it had also left her without even a decent hobby. Her life, despite the honor and prestige, must have been quite boring.
“I never thought of it that way.”
I felt a bit ashamed for mocking her newfound passion for baking. Shouldn’t I be celebrating the fact that my fiancée, who once knew nothing beyond magic, had found a new hobby to enjoy? Yet, I thought of it as something strange instead of congratulating her.
I thought I’d shaken off my prejudices about her, especially since I’d started calling her by name and even spoke informally with her. Yet, deep down, I was still full of assumptions. I even unconsciously decided that it was absurd for the noble, refined Mage Duchess to dabble in something as trivial as pastry-making.
“Fufu, don’t dwell on it too much. I doubt u...unnie would want you to feel guilty over something like this.”
Marghetta consoled me with a soft voice after a pause. I almost laughed after hearing her stutter as she said ‘unnie’ so shyly but I held it in, not wanting to ruin the progress she’d made. If I laughed now, she might slip back to using the more formal ‘Mage Duchess.’
“Do you think so?”
“Yes. So cheer her on and make sure you try whatever she makes. Telling her it’s delicious would be even better.”
“Of course, I’ll do that.”
Who in their right mind would insult the food someone worked hard on? Besides, my tastes are pretty simple, so I’ll eat it as long as she doesn’t put in any strange ingredients—
Wait... strange ingredients?
It suddenly hit me that her baking teacher was Louise, the very same Louise who had a talent for including odd ingredients and who made creations during the 77th season that even her love-struck suitors couldn’t stomach. Somehow, only my dulled taste buds could endure those... strange flavors.
Sure, Louise had eventually learned to bake properly, so the Mage Duchess should be fine. However, there was always the chance she’d lose control and teach her one of her ‘special’ recipes.
It’ll be fine... right?
Yeah, it should be fine. If the worst-case scenario happened and the food turned out weird, I’d just hold my breath and chew through it. After all, what someone just starting a hobby needed was encouragement and not criticism.
Knock knock—
“Marghetta, may I come in?”
While I was steeling myself for whatever might come, I heard Amelia’s voice outside the door.
“Yes, come in.”
The door creaked open carefully with Marghetta’s permission, revealing Amelia with a plate full of pastries in hand. Judging by the way they were piled on, she must have scrambled to prepare them as soon as I arrived.
Honestly, I didn’t need the snacks; I already had my fill of treats back in the clubroom. Still, it wouldn’t be polite to decline a guest’s offering. Besides, Amelia’s spirit was as fragile as crystal under the pressure of nobility—one wrong word and she might shatter—so I had to tread carefully.
“Hello, Executive Manager.”
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