Night had settled completely outside.
The last traces of sunset had disappeared beyond the distant rooftops, leaving the world under a calm blanket of darkness.
Through the kitchen window, a few faint stars had begun to appear, scattered across the sky like tiny lanterns.
Inside the house, the only light came from a small lantern resting on the table and the soft orange glow from the stove.
The warmth made the room feel comfortable.
Peaceful.
Evan stood proudly on top of his stool in front of the counter.
Knife in hand.
Vegetables waiting on the cutting board.
His expression looked far more serious than anyone would normally expect from someone cutting vegetables.
"…I'm improving," he declared confidently.
Lyra stood beside the counter with her arms folded, observing him with the calm focus of someone judging a student's work.
Her gaze dropped to the cutting board.
Then back to him.
"…You are less terrible."
Evan froze mid-cut and slowly turned his head toward her.
"…That," he said carefully, "…is the worst compliment I have ever received."
"…It is accurate."
"…You could have said 'good job.'"
"…That would be dishonest."
Evan stared at her for a moment.
Then sighed dramatically and returned his attention to the cutting board.
Slice.
Slice.
The knife moved down carefully.
The pieces were still uneven.
Some thicker.
Some thinner.
But they were definitely better than the chaotic results from earlier.
"…See?" Evan said, pointing toward the vegetables with the knife. "…Progress."
Lyra leaned slightly closer to examine them.
"…Acceptable."
Evan lowered the knife again and looked at her with mild disbelief.
"…You are impossible to impress."
"…Correct."
"…Do you ever praise people?"
"…When they deserve it."
"…Harsh."
Lyra said nothing.
Evan continued cutting.
Slice.
Slice.
The quiet rhythm slowly filled the kitchen.
The stove crackled softly nearby.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The calm silence felt natural.
Eventually Evan broke it.
"…Lyra."
"Yes?"
"…How did you learn to cook?"
Lyra paused slightly before answering.
"…Observation."
Evan blinked.
"…Observation?"
"…Yes."
"…That's it?"
"…Yes."
Evan stared at her.
"…No one taught you?"
"…My mother."
He lowered the knife slowly.
"…You just watched your mother cook and figured it out?"
"…Eventually."
Evan tilted his head slightly as he studied her.
"…That doesn't look like the best way to learn."
Lyra didn't respond right away.
Instead, she turned toward the stove and stirred the pot gently.
The faint aroma of herbs drifted through the air.
"…It was necessary," she said calmly.
"She was a busy person."
Evan watched her quietly for a moment.
"Lyra... how was your mother?"
"My prince... go back to cutting."
'Why doesn't she want to talk about her mother?'
Evan looked at Lyra's face. A melancholic face was plastered on her face.
'I will find that out next time.'
Then picked up the knife again.
Slice.
"…Well," he said casually, "…I'm glad you're teaching me."
Lyra didn't look at him.
"…You insisted."
"…I did."
Slice.
Slice.
Evan paused briefly, stretching his shoulders.
"…You know what?"
"…What?"
"…We should make something amazing tomorrow."
Lyra looked at him again.
"…Explain."
"…Something like what we ate earlier today," Evan said with excitement. "That food was incredible."
Lyra raised an eyebrow slightly.
"…You cannot even cut vegetables evenly."
"…That's a temporary problem."
"…It is a current problem."
"…Details."
Lyra shook her head faintly.
"…Cooking requires patience."
"…And ambition," Evan added.
"…Ambition without skill produces disaster."
Evan pointed the knife at her accusingly.
"…You have very little faith in me."
"…I have realistic expectations."
Evan laughed quietly.
"…Fair enough."
He resumed cutting with exaggerated seriousness.
Slice.
Slice.
Slice.
Lyra watched silently for a moment before turning back to the stove.
Evan glanced toward the window.
The night sky had grown darker.
The distant sounds of the city had quieted.
Most shops had likely closed by now.
"…Lyra."
"Yes?"
"…Do people normally learn things like this?"
"…Explain."
"…Cooking in the evening," Evan said. "…Just standing around and learning something simple."
Lyra thought about it.
"…Many people do."
"…It's nice."
"…Yes."
Evan smiled slightly.
Then looked back at the cutting board.
"…Then we're doing this every evening."
Lyra looked at him again.
"…Every evening?"
"…Yes."
He gestured confidently toward the counter.
"…Cooking lessons."
"…Until I can make something better than the food we had earlier."
Lyra studied him silently.
Then shook her head slightly.
"…That will take a long time."
Evan grinned.
"…Then we have a long time."
Lyra didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she watched him continue cutting.
Slice.
Slice.
Slice.
His focus was exaggerated now.
His tongue stuck out slightly as he concentrated.
The pieces were still uneven.
Still imperfect.
But his determination was obvious.
After a moment, Lyra quietly turned back toward the stove.
"…Very well."
Evan immediately looked up.
"…Very well?"
"…We will continue tomorrow evening."
His grin widened.
"…See? I knew you'd agree."
"…You are persistent."
"…It's one of my best qualities."
Lyra did not argue.
Soon the food finished cooking.
They sat together at the small table.
The meal itself was simple.
But warm.
Comforting.
Evan took a bite and nodded approvingly.
"…Okay. I admit it."
Lyra glanced at him.
"…Admit what?"
"…Cooking is worth learning."
"…Yes."
"…Imagine if I could make food like the stall earlier."
"…That will require significant improvement."
"…You really enjoy reminding me how bad I am."
"…I prefer accuracy."
Evan laughed again.
They finished eating quietly.
After a moment Evan stood up and stretched lazily.
"…Alright."
He carried the dishes toward the counter.
"…Tomorrow I'll cut perfectly."
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"…Unlikely."
"…You doubt me again."
"…Correct."
Evan stepped down from the stool.
The moment his feet touched the floor—
He paused.
Just slightly.
"…Huh."
Lyra immediately looked up.
"…What is it?"
Evan flexed his fingers slowly.
"…That's strange."
"…Explain."
"…My hands feel… warm."
Lyra's expression sharpened.
"…Warm?"
"…Yeah."
Evan stared at his palm.
"…It's like something's moving."
Lyra stood up slowly.
"…Evan."
"…Yeah?"
"…What exactly did you feel?"
Evan thought for a moment.
"…It started when I was cutting."
He rubbed his fingers together slightly.
"…At first I thought it was just the heat from the stove."
He looked down at his arm.
"…But now it feels like it moved from my hand… to here."
Lyra's gaze followed his movement carefully.
A quiet silence filled the room.
The lantern flame flickered softly.
Then she spoke.
"…You were only cutting vegetables."
Evan nodded.
"…Yeah."
Lyra's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him.
Her voice lowered.
"…Then why…"
She stopped.
Evan looked confused.
"…Why what?"
Lyra stared at him for a long moment.
Then said quietly—
"…Why did your Qi react?"