Omelette Rice (2)

Unable to say no, I sighed and shrugged her off, trying to ignore the tingling on my ears. "Fine, just sit over there and wait."

Thank the gods she listened, so I started on the rice first.

After the oil heated up, I dumped the remaining egg whites into the pan to parcook them, scrambling them around and taking them out soon enough when they're slightly cooked—rubbery eggs won't taste good. Then I replaced them with onyuns to start caramelization, before adding the rice and the vegetables. Once they're cooked, I added the egg whites to finish them, before adding salt and pieper to taste.

After setting it aside, I took my cooking chopsticks to start on the main attraction of the dish. It's a delicate process, but I'm used to cooking omurice for my family back home.

I didn't have to overthink anything as I poured the batch of eggs I mixed with milk, before scrambling it around with my sticks as it cooked, leaving the center gooey and fluffy while the outside firms up enough to roll it.

"So," I heard the Saint speak from behind me, "Junpei, where did you learn how to cook?"

I paused in my movements. How many times did she catch me by surprise today? I flipped the edges to the center to roll up the egg, careful not to rip it. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious. You're my Coren now, and I want to get to know you better."

"You're not doing this because I'm the Salvator?"

"What do you mean, didn't you want to be a cook instead?"

Right, I did say that. I placed the finished egg on top of the rice and garnished it with the ketchup I just made—thankfully I had enough sugar and vinegar to thin a dollop of my tomate paste. "Yes, I learned from my parents. My mother's the owner of an inn, and my father's a butcher."

The Saint hummed as I placed the food in front of her. "I see. That must be nice, having a family."

Oh.

From what I know, Saints didn't have families, and most were picked from orphanages. Something about no worldly commitments making the Saint's power more effective and potent, because they're able to devote their whole life into their purpose—saving Literra from demons. The Coren, despite forming bonds with their Saints, was viewed as glorified bodyguards, escorting the Saint to their deaths.

I just shook my head and turned away from her melancholy, cleaning up our mess again. "What are you talking about? Isn't the Coren your family?"

"You're right, they're my family." Then silence, before— "You're also a part of it now, Junpei."

This woman . . .

"Just eat your omelette, Saint."

Even though I said that to make her shut up, I still glanced to see how she thought of the food, before reeling back in shock.

Tears were dripping down the Saint's cheeks like rivers as she scooped the egg and rice into her mouth, chewing slowly as she stared at her plate, like she's lost her mind somewhere I couldn't reach. I heard sniffles here and there, and I picked up a clean towel to press against her face, startled at her behavior.

Blinking at the contact, her stormy eyes cleared as she eventually focused on me, giving me that vulnerable look again, and I froze.

"Junpei, this . . ."

Coughing awkwardly, I covered her face with the towel. "Stop crying. You look ugly, Estelle."

"I'm not ug—wait, did you just call me . . . ?" She took my hand, but I snatched it back like she burned me, leaving the towel in her hands as I packed up the bread and casserole I made.

I refused to acknowledge the emotions stirring in me. After we defeat the Demon King, I won't see her again anyway. I will go home to my parents, and her Coren would live on in retirement for a job well done.

According to the records, Saints wouldn't be able to live long, full lives anyway.

"You heard wrong." I quickly changed the subject. "Was the food that bad?"

"No! No, this . . . I was looking for this taste, it's perfect. It's like you reached deep into my mind and took this dish into reality. I can't describe it, but I've been looking for this my whole life—you are the best cook I've ever met, Junpei."

Though I normally thrived with praises, though her soft voice tugged on my sympathy, that's not what got my attention. Omurice didn't exist in Literra, so how . . . ?

Unless?

"Really?" Suspicious, I faced her again, but her dried, flushed cheeks and her radiant smile stopped me. The sunlight pouring in from the windows didn't help as well, haloing her in gentle light—the perfect picture of a Saint blessed by the gods.

Once again, this woman held too much power, and she didn't even know it. "Yes, truly. Thank you, Junpei."

I stared at her a bit longer, wondering if my guess was correct, while she continued to eat her omurice happily, her tears dwindling into tiny pearls on her lashes. Despite her excitement, she ate like a refined lady, her eyes gaining back their sparkle. Probably noticing my stare, she met my gaze, a silent question asked my way.

If she was like me, she could've just pretended to not know omurice and how to cook it. But her tears . . . it looked like she didn't remember anything, unlike me, who kept all my memories. Mentioning a previous lifetime to her would make me look like a lunatic, so I didn't want to admit to that.

If she really was like me, how do I discreetly ask her?

The Saint snapped me out of my thoughts by waving a hand in front of my face. "Ah, Junpei? Can you also teach me how to make this? I want to try my hand at it someday."

I moved her hand away from me. "If you start peeling your own ingredients, sure."

With eyes glittering like stars, she huffed and puffed. "I can peel vegetables! I just thought I'd let you help because you were insistent."

"Sure, I believe you." Proud and satisfied at her empty plate, I took it to the washing station and summoned Hydra to rinse it, though I hope this would be the last time I have to wash things this morning. "You hired me to be your personal chef. It's my job."

"Yes, but . . ." The Saint joined me with a rag, holding out her hand. "It doesn't mean you have to do everything."

I hummed and handed her the plate, then she starting drying it while I washed the other equipment. "Saint, your job is to save the world. Just leave the trivial tasks to us."

"But you'll save the world with me, right?"

I shook my head, but it wasn't a rejection—even if I did, no matter what I say, I'll still accompany her until the end of the line, won't I?

After all, it's my destiny, and if I go against it, who knows what consequences it'll bring.

"You won't let me say no anyway, Estelle."

"Of course! You still have to teach me how to make this omelette rice, Junpei."

Saving the world together, huh.