Chapter 46: Operation: Bake to Forgive

Chapter 46: Operation: Bake to Forgive So...the Operation Cookie Peace Treaty has officially begun as we reached the royal kitchen. It was my first time stepping foot inside, and when I entered, everyone gasped. Dramatic. Just how I like it. Nanny whispered something to the head chef—probably asking for permission. He chuckled and nodded like he approved of my sacred mission. The head chef personally cleared a whole table just for me so I wouldn’t have any problems. He even stood right beside me, like a royal guard of dough and butter, to make sure I didn’t burn the empire down or lose a finger. As for the kitchen staff? "Our princess... Look at her; she’s so tiny!" "Look at those red eyes—like a doll!" "She’s cuter than the sugar sculptures we make for banquets." They were standing in rows like an audience, watching me with eyes so curious it felt like I was filming an episode of MasterChef: Princess Edition. Except in this version, the judge is also the contestant. And chaos is guaranteed. Anyway—focus. A peace-making, cookie-baking, Papa-is-too-scary-right-now-so-let’s-feed-him mission had begun. As a good daughter, I couldn’t let Papa stay grumpy. He needed sugar... Because right now? He was all vinegar. SO...LET’S BEGINNNN!!! Stage One: Chaos and Flour Snowstorms It’s not like I’ve never baked cookies before. I did in my last life. But it turns out my hands are too short in this body, and flour is much trickier than I remembered. And I can still hear those staff’s whispers. "I heard she made His Majesty smile everytime. Smile. Like... actually smiled." "Wait, really?" "Shh, shh! She’s picking up the flour—look, LOOK, she’s going to bake!" "With her own hands?" "Isn’t that dangerous?" "Should we... step in?" "No way! This is history in the making." I was supposed to scoop one cup. The scoop was too small. So I may have tilted the whole sack. Accidentally. PFFFT. A snowstorm of white exploded everywhere. I emerged with white hair and white lashes. Like a tiny sugar ghost. Even Marshmallow coughed, flour all over his fur and tail. "Princess..." Nanny gasped, rushing to wipe my face with a cloth. Meanwhile, the staff were trying very hard not to laugh. Stage Two: Eggpocalypse Eggs are slippery, okay? I tried to crack one like the head chef showed me. A gentle tap. Then a firmer tap. Then— CRACK. On the floor. The egg cried yellow tears. I stared at it, betrayed. "Why are you so dramatic?" I whispered. The head chef handed me another. "Try again, my princess." The second one made it to the bowl! ...with shell shards, and I called it extra crunchy. Now the staff were laughing a little too hard. "My princess is so cute." "I can’t with her." Meanwhile, Nanny was in the corner whispering prayers to the kitchen gods. Stage Three: Sugar Sabotage The head chef tried to measure the sugar carefully. I... added a bit more. And then a bit more. Because sugar here in this world isn’t sweet enough, and Papa likes sweet things! Right? The head chef smiled awkwardly and nervously. "Princess, we do not need to send His Majesty into a sugar coma, yes?" I tilted my head. "But peace comes from sweetness, doesn’t it?" The staff gasped like I just spoke divine truth. "Yes, Princess!" "Princess is always right!" "Add more sugar, princess." Meanwhile, Nanny muttered something suspiciously close to, "I need a vacation." Stage Four: Shaping Tragedies At last! The cookie shapes! There were stars, bears, hearts... And some suspicious blob that might’ve been a sheep? "Look!" I said proudly. "It’s a Knight bear!" The bear’s head fell off the moment I moved it. "Oh no," I whispered. "He died again." Stage Five: Into the Fire The head chef slid the tray into the fire-heated brick oven, and then he smiled gently. "The cookies will be ready shortly, my princess." I nodded, heart racing. "Please don’t burn. Please don’t explode." We waited. We all waited, eagerly. The smell filled the kitchen—sweet, buttery, almost victorious. My heart swelled. After what felt like forever, the head chef pulled the tray out. He was smiling so kindly, so warmly, I knew deep down... they must be beautiful. Then he placed the cookies into a gorgeous little basket, wrapped with a ribbon, and handed it to me. "Here you go, Princess. Your gift for His Majesty." I took it with a big, bright smile. Until I looked inside. "...Why do they look like their souls were sucked out?" I whispered. The cookies were... tragic. Lopsided. Mutant bears. Sad stars. Puffy hearts. Then the head chef patted my head. "They’re unique, Princess." I looked up at him, and he continued: "Taste is what matters, not appearance." I blinked. Smiled. And nodded. He was right. My cookies still smelled good. Even if they looked like cursed relics from a forgotten baking cult. I turned to Nanny. "Nanny... let’s go to Papa." She nodded, and we began the march toward the grumpiest man in the empire. And behind me, I heard whispers: "All the best, Princess!" "Do your best!" "His Majesty will surely love your cookies!" They all waved and cheered while I smiled at the basket in my hands. Let’s hope Papa prefers taste over trauma. *** (Emperor Cassius’s POV) The imperial study, Sigh. "Damn those peasants. They held the meeting too long; it pissed me off," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my temples. The imperial study had never felt so cold. Not in temperature—no, the fire crackled beside me, warm as ever. But in the atmosphere. In silence. In the absence of something. Someone. I hadn’t visited Lavinia since morning. Because I was brooding? Because I was sulking? (Emperors don’t sulk, I reminded myself. They seethe regally.) And then... her voice echoed in my mind. "Papa and Theon are in love." I froze. The memory stabbed me like a fork in the eye. "Where in the seven hells did she learn that nonsense?" I hissed, gripping the armrest. A chill ran down my spine like a cursed breeze. No. No, absolutely not. Theon? That cabbage? I stood, pacing. The fire popped behind me like it agreed. "Are children always this stupid?" I asked the air. Silence. Then I frowned, paused mid-step, and shook my head violently. "No. My daughter is not stupid. She’s brilliant. She’s cunning. She’s..." I exhaled sharply. "Corrupted. That’s it. Her brain has been tainted." I looked up at the ceiling like it personally offended me. "Should I summon a priest to cleanse her?" A beat. "...No. Not just one. I need two holy priests. One to purify her mind... and another to perform an exorcism on Theon." I massaged my temples and slumped into the chair with a heavy sigh. Knock knock. I blinked. My eyes narrowed. "...Come in," I said, my voice low and grim like a man about to sign a declaration of war. And of course. Theon. I flinched as if the devil himself had walked in. "You," I snarled. "Didn’t I tell you not to show your damn face for a week?" Theon didn’t even flinch. "You think I wanted to see your jerk-like face too?" My fist clenched. This. This right here. I pointed at him with righteous fury. "This. This is the problem." He raised an eyebrow. "What problem?" "This—this disgusting familiarity between us!" I snapped. "You talk back. You show up uninvited. You argue like an insufferable wife." Theon froze. "Wife—what the hell?!" I glared. "You’re too casual with me! Too familiar! She sees us bickering like an old married couple and thinks there’s chemistry!" Theon looked genuinely horrified. "Don’t say chemistry. That makes me want to puke." There was a brief silence as I stared him down. "...Why don’t you get married?" I asked, deadly serious. "That might finally clear up my daughter’s ridiculous misunderstanding." He slammed the document onto the table with a scoff. "I should say the same to you. Maybe if we had an empress, the princess wouldn’t be so confused." I leaned back slowly, narrowed my eyes, and let out a low, threatening laugh. "Are you trying to say this is my fault?" Theon let out a long-suffering sigh and shoved a stack of documents toward me. "Stop whining already. Just sign these—I need your approval." I scowled. "I’ve been working non-stop since morning. I haven’t even seen my daughter all day. And now you bring me this? I will rip out your soul for real." He scoffed. "You’re talking like you’re actually hardworking." I glared so hard I thought my eyes might burst into flames. "Sounds like someone has a death wish." He sighed again, completely unfazed. Knock knock. I growled. "I swear, if it’s another official, I’ll kill him." The door creaked open slowly. "...Papa?" We both turned. And there she was—my daughter, standing at the door with wide eyes and a basket clutched in her little hands. I froze. Then I slowly turned to Theon. He looked at me. Ah, damn it. She’s going to misunderstand again.