Zadiene's POV
After reviewing the folder that James gave me, I stepped out of my office, my heart pounding. The team was ready, standing in a neat line, their eyes trained on me. But it wasn't the usual, friendly atmosphere I was used to. Instead, they were...bowed. Like I was some sort of royalty.
"Uh, what's happening?" I stammered, turning to Leon, hoping he'd explain.
He shrugged, smiling grimly. "Welcome, Head Chef. Your ingredients are prepared. Now, cook something. Prove yourself. We'll judge based on taste and aroma. Then, we vote. Accept you, or...make your life hell in this kitchen."
I froze, stunned. My mouth hung open, my eyes probably the size of dinner plates.
Seriously? Was this some kind of weird initiation? Who came up with this? The countess? These people? What had I gotten myself into?
I swallowed hard, trying to process the surreal situation. These seasoned chefs, veterans in their own right, were waiting for me to...perform? Like some sort of culinary circus act? And what did Leon mean, exactly, by "make my life hell"? My mind raced with worst-case scenarios.
"Right... uh, okay. Got it. Cook, prove myself... vote." I repeated dumbly, trying to buy time. My palms began to sweat as I surveyed the array of ingredients laid out before me. This wasn't how I envisioned my first day as head chef.
I took a deep breath, letting my fingers hover over the ingredients. Okay, Zadiene, focus. I could do this. I pushed aside my doubts, visualizing the perfect dish.
Duck à l'Orange. Classic, elegant, yet bold. It required precision, but I'd practiced this recipe countless times. I nodded to myself, conviction growing.
First, I selected four plump duck breasts, seasoning them generously with salt, pepper, and a pinch of thyme. The aroma of herbs filled the air, calming my nerves. Next, I prepared the orange sauce, carefully slicing four oranges, saving their juice. I combined it with butter, shallots, cognac, and a splash of vinegar, whisking until smooth.
As I placed the duck breasts in the oven, I set a pot of potatoes boiling nearby. The kitchen grew quiet, except for the soft sizzling of the duck fat. My hands moved confidently, automatically, as I lost myself in the familiar rhythm of cooking.
Leon's eyes widened as he watched me expertly brown the duck skin, the savory fragrance wafting through the kitchen. But it wasn't just him—other chefs were starting to stare, their faces slackening. One of them, a tall man named Marcel, actually let out a tiny gasp.
The kitchen was silent now, the only sound being the gentle simmer of the potatoes. I tried to ignore the sudden attention, focusing instead on the sizzling duck.
Time seemed to fly by as I finished plating the dish, arranging the tender duck slices attractively amidst a pool of glossy orange sauce, surrounded by golden-brown potatoes. As I stepped back, a collective inhale echoed around the kitchen.
It felt like hours had passed, but the clock on the wall said only twenty minutes had gone by. I wiped my hands on my apron, trying to appear nonchalant despite the intensity of their gazes.
Leon cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Alright, let's...let's try it." He picked up a fork, his movements stiff, as if he expected something terrible to happen. The others followed suit, their faces etched with curiosity.
The first bite. Silence. Then, Marcel's eyes snapped wide. "Bloody hell." He whispered.
The room erupted into whispers, murmurs, and—was that a sniffle?—as they devoured their portions. I stood awkwardly, unsure how to react, while they savored each mouthful. The tension was palpable, and I sensed something shifting beneath the surface.
Leon's fork clattered against his plate, and he shook his head, seemingly awestruck. "This...this is incredible. You're...you're not human."
The room erupted into laughter, a warm, genuine sound. Even Marcel, who usually kept his cards close, clapped me on the back. "We're impressed, Chef. Bloody impressed."
The team converged around me, faces beaming. Someone handed me a glass of champagne, which I accepted numbly. This wasn't what I'd expected. No snide comments, no sabotage, just...genuine admiration.
"Congratulations, Head Chef!" Sophia exclaimed, appearing out of nowhere, flanked by Arcel.
The kitchen erupted into applause, the sound echoing off the stainless steel counters. I blushed, overwhelmed, as the weight of their approval settled upon me. It felt...right.
Just then, the swinging doors burst open once more, and the elegant Countess Vero sauntered in, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. Her sharp gaze swept over the scene, taking in the celebratory atmosphere. A smile played on her lips.
"My, my, it seems I've missed quite the spectacle. Judging by your reactions, Chef Zadiene has more than proven herself." She glided toward me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Tell me, Chef, does this mean you've won over the hearts of my kitchen staff?"
There was a chorus of affirmative responses, and the Countess nodded, pleased.
"I think, then, that a welcome party is in order. Tonight, 6pm sharp. We'll show our new Head Chef exactly how we celebrate milestones in this company." She declared, her tone brooking no argument. "Make sure you're ready, Zadiene."
Still buzzing from the congratulations, I fumbled through my pockets for my phone. I had to share the news with Yssabel. As soon as I stepped into my office, I dialed her number. She picked up on the second ring.
"Hey, big shot! What's going on? You sound...different." Yssabel's voice was laced with curiosity.
"You'll never guess what just happened." I grinned, hardly believing it myself. "They loved my dish! They're actually congratulating me,yss. They're throwing a welcome party tonight!"
Yssabel squealed on the other end, making me wince. "Oh, Zadiene, that's amazing! I'm so proud of you! Do you want me to come pick you up after?"
My mind flashed back to Sophia's earlier promise. "Actually, don't worry about it. Aunt Sophia's going to drop me off at home later."
Yssabel's excitement barely dimmed. "Oh, that's great! Aunt Sophia's always been super nice. Wait, are you sure you're okay? You're not, like, freaking out or anything?" She knew me too well.
I chuckled, shaking my head even though she couldn't see it. "No, no, I'm fine. Just...surreal, I suppose. I wasn't expecting this. But hey, it's a celebration, right? I'm glad I called you."
There was a pause, and I could almost hear her grin. "Yeah, totally! I'll bug Aunt Sophia for all the details later. Have fun, big shot! Don't drink too much, okay?"
My heart swelled with gratitude. It was just Yssabel and me, really. After Mom...after she passed away, it was tough. We'd grown closer, relying on each other. And Sophia, bless her, had been a rock for us.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," I reassured Yssabel, trying not to get choked up. "Tell you all about it later, okay? Love you."
The line clicked dead, and I exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. I leaned back against the wall, letting reality sink in. Today was a good day.
I stood outside the private room, smoothing out my dress, feeling a little self-conscious. Sophia had told me not to worry about dressing up too much, but I'd still wanted to make an effort. The restaurant, La Belle Époque, was renowned for its exquisite cuisine and luxurious ambiance. I'd never even dreamed of stepping foot inside, let alone having a private room reserved just for me.
Sophia appeared beside me, beaming. "Ready, dear? They're all waiting for you." She linked her arm through mine, leading me into the lavish space. The tables were adorned with candles, flowers, and sparkling glasses. The chefs, Leon, Marcel, and everyone else, were chatting and laughing, clearly already relaxed.
"Wow," I breathed, overwhelmed. "You guys...you didn't have to—"
Leon raised his glass, interrupting. "Chef Zadiene, welcome to your party! Now, let's eat, drink, and celebrate!"
The room erupted in cheers, and I smiled, feeling tears prickle the corners of my eyes.
As I scanned the room, making sure to thank everyone personally, I noticed the Countess and Arcel weren't there. I excused myself from a conversation with Marcel and approached Sophia.
"Aunt Sophia, where's the Countess and Arcel? Don't they usually...stick around for these kinds of things?"
Sophia's smile softened, her eyes flicking toward the doorway. "Oh, sweetie, they had to leave earlier. Important business, you know. They're heading back to Romania."
Sophia placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't worry about them, Zadiene. Tonight's about you. Just relax and have fun, okay?"
I nodded, feeling a bit silly for asking so many questions. She was right. This was my celebration, and I shouldn't let my curiosity ruin it. I took a deep breath, letting go of my concerns. "You're right, thanks Aunt Sophia."
With that, I forced myself to live in the moment, laughing and chatting with the team. But every so often, I'd catch Sophia watching me from across the room, a thoughtful expression on her face.
The evening wore on, filled with clinking glasses, warm conversations, and increasingly silly jokes. I'd lost count of how many glasses of wine I'd had, but my cheeks felt warm, and everything seemed hilarious. Even Marcel was slurring his words, much to everyone's amusement.
Through the haze, I spotted Sophia making her way toward me, her face a gentle contrast to the chaos surrounding us. She smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Zadiene, sweetheart...I think it's time we headed home."
I giggled, swaying slightly. "Home? Oh, yeah! Home sounds...great."
Leon, nearby, burst into laughter. "You're hammered, Chef!"
The table erupted into laughter again, and I stumbled slightly. Sophia caught my elbow, steadying me.
Sophia chuckled and wrapped her arm around me, guiding me out of the private room. "Alright, kiddo, let's get you settled."
She led me through the bustling streets, supporting me the whole way, until we reached her car. She helped me into the passenger seat, making sure my seatbelt was clicks into place. As she started the engine, I let out a contented sigh, feeling sleepy.
"You're a wonderful aunt, Sophia..." I slurred, my eyelids drooping.
Sophia laughed softly, shaking her head. "Shh, you're not supposed to be this drunk, Zadiene. But...I suppose it's a special night, so I'll let it slide."
She pulled out of the parking lot, navigating the city streets with ease. I slumped against the window, feeling the world spin around me.
"I'm...I'm glad...you're here, Aunt Sophia," I murmured, already half-asleep. The car's warmth and the soft music playing in the background lulled me further.
Sophia's voice was gentle, barely above a whisper. "I'm here, sweetie. I'm always here."
As we drove, the silence was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional soft hum of the radio. Sophia glanced at me, concern etched on her face. She'd seen me like this before—drunk, exhausted, and vulnerable.
"Zadiene? Something's been bothering me. You've been having...that dream again, haven't you?"
She knew. She always knew. I didn't even have to respond; she could read it on my face.
"The one with the stairs, the chamber, and the coffins. It's still happening, isn't it?"
I nodded, my eyes fluttering closed. The dream had become such a constant presence that it felt like a part of me. And Sophia...she'd listened to me yap about it for years. She'd heard every iteration, every detail, no matter how small.
"It's...changed," I whispered, struggling to articulate. "Something's different."
Sophia's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. "Different? Tell me. What's changed?"
Her tone was careful, measured. She'd heard me talk about this dream countless times, but this time, she sensed something was off.
I struggled to find the right words, my thoughts foggy. "I-I can...touch it. The black one. The middle one. Before, whenever I reached for it, I'd wake up. But now...it's like...it's waiting for me."
A beat passed, the only sound was the quiet purr of the engine. Sophia's silence was heavy with unspoken thoughts. She knew exactly what I meant.
Sophia's brow furrowed, her lips parted as if choosing her next words carefully. She whispered something under her breath, so softly that it was almost lost amidst the soft music filling the car.
"...you're the key, Zadiene..."
But I was already slipping under, the alcohol and exhaustion claiming me. My head drooped, chin dipping towards my chest. The words, if I'd even registered them, swirled away like smoke, leaving only the faintest impression of importance.
—
Sophia's POV
I watched Zadiene's head loll back, her eyes fluttering shut. She was out. The poor thing.
I sighed, focusing on the road ahead. My mind raced. She'd said it. She'd finally mentioned the change. Touching the black coffin. That was significant.
"You're the key, Zadiene," I repeated softly, this time, to myself.
I'd known about the dream for years. She'd shared every detail, every fear, every hope. And I listened. Oh, how I'd listened. Because I knew.
I pulled up to her house' driveway, carefully parking the car. Zadiene wouldn't remember much tomorrow. But I'd remember. And soon, she'd have to know. Everything.
I turned off the engine and gently shook Zadiene's shoulder. She didn't stir. I smiled wistfully. Of course she wouldn't wake up now.
Shaking my head, I unbuckled her seatbelt and scooped her up, cradling her in my arms. She felt so small, limp and trusting. I carried her out of the car, nodding at Yssabel, who stood waiting at the door, her piercing brown eyes narrowed with concern.
"Hey, Yssie," I murmured, making my way up the path. "She's just a little...tipsy."
Yssabel's face softened, her usual stoicism cracking. She opened the door wider, stepping aside. "Oh dear...she's really out of it, isn't she? Aunt Sophia, you're not exaggerating for once."
I chuckled softly, shifting Zadiene's weight. "Not this time. She's been...a bit much tonight."
Yssabel followed me inside, her footsteps quiet. She'd always been the more responsible one, the protector. I remembered when she was little, no older than Zadiene was now, and how fiercely she'd defend her little sister.
I walked past Yssabel, careful not to disturb Zadiene. The house was dimly lit, the soft glow of the nightlights casting shadows.
"You should've seen her, Yssie. She was laughing, telling stories...she was having the time of her life. But...she's been struggling, hasn't she? With that dream."
Yssabel nodded, her face pale. She'd grown up listening to Zadiene's nightly rants about that staircase, those coffins. She'd heard it all, too.
I kicked the door shut behind me, heading straight for the stairs. "I'll put her to bed. She'll sleep it off."
As I ascended the stairs, Yssabel followed closely behind, her eyes fixed on Zadiene's peaceful face. "She mentioned the dream again, didn't she?"
I nodded, my grip tightening around Zadiene. "Yes, and there's a change. She can touch the black coffin now. It's...significant."
Yssabel's breath hitched, her steps faltering. "What do you mean? What does it mean, Aunt Sophia?"
I reached the top of the stairs, turning towards Zadiene's room. "I think it means she's ready. Ready to face whatever's been waiting for her in that dream."
I laid Zadiene gently on her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Yssabel watched, her expression unreadable.
"She's the key, Yssie. And I think it's time we tell her everything."
Yssabel's eyes locked onto Sophia's, an intense, almost fearful understanding passing between them. The air in the room seemed to thicken, heavy with secrets and unspoken truths. Before Sophia could say another word, Yssabel grasped her arm, her fingers digging into Sophia's skin.
"We can't wait any longer." Yssabel's voice was barely above a whisper, laced with urgency. "Tomorrow night. We tell her. Everything."
As Sophia nodded gravely, Zadiene stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible. But it was too quiet, too soft, lost in the darkness closing in around her...