“I’ll expin ter. For now, just do as I say,” Jade told Josh after he had cleaned himself and put on an apron, hair scarf, and sleeve guards. “I don’t have a whisk, but we do have forks. That’ll work.”

  “Forks?” Josh watched as Jade grabbed a bowl, threw the butter into it, and braced the bowl firmly under her arm. With several forks gripped together in her right hand, she began beating the butter with vigorous intensity.

  The motion was so fluid - and slightly violent - that it left not only Josh, but also the curious onlookers, momentarily stunned. None of them had expected such a forceful - and frankly dramatic - dispy from a schoolmistress who usually spent her time quietly reading and writing.

  “Josh, sieve the flour into another bowl,” Jade ordered. Her voice instantly snapped Josh out of his daze and hurried to do as told, sifting the flour he had bright into the bowl Jade had pced on the table.

  It didn’t take long. Once finished, he followed her next instructions: pouring part of the sugat into her bowl, cracking the eggs, and adding them one by one while she continued beating.

  Only after everything was incorporated did Jade finally stop. She shook out her right arm, muttering under her breath, “Once I save enough pennies, I’m definitely getting a mechanical mixer. Otherwise, my arms are going to fall off…”

  Watching her, Josh suddenly understood why the bakers he saw while wandering the streets always looked exhausted. Anyone would be, if this was how batter had to be beaten every single day.

  “Now, where’s my wooden spatu…” Jade gnced around, found it, and began folding in the flour - into the mixture which she had already added a pinch of baking powder taken from the biscuit table. “Josh, take some of the leftover butter from that jar and grease the baking pan… yes, the iron one. Your hands are clean, so just use your fingers. You can wash them with wood ash afterward.”

  Josh hesitated, unable to hold back his question. “Sensei… isn’t it inefficient to spread it with your fingers?”

  “Yes,” Jade replied calmly as she continued folding, adding a little milk. “That’s why people use brushes in mass production. But we don’t have one, and we’re only making a single cake. That’s fine.”

  After greasing the pan, Josh returned to her side. “Sensei, do we need a lot of tools to make cakes?”

  “That depends,” Jade said, pouring the batter into the pan. “If you understand the principles, you can always work around what you ck - like using forks instead of a whisk. Technically, I could even whisk with a spoon. It’s just a lot more tiring and time consuming.”

  She slid the pan into the brick oven alongside the trays of biscuits the others had prepared. “No oven? Steam it. No butter? Use oil. No milk? Use water. No sugar? Use malt sugar - or don’t add any at all.”

  Once the cake was in, Jade cpped her hands lightly. “Now we wait. And while we wait,” she motioned Josh closer, “you’re going to try whisking.”

  Josh watched as she cleared the table with practiced efficiency, maintaining the same rigorous standards of order she brought to every task. What amused him most was her use of a small lump of dough - made from nothing but flour and water - to wipe away the thin yer of batter and butter clinging to bowls and jars. It saved her the effort of heavy washing, but it also was born of a harder truth: she rather not to waste a single drop of precious eggs or butter. She would set the scrap aside and bake it ter, using the oven’s residual heat after the fire was put out.

  “I’m especially skilled at cake decoration,” Jade said, pulling out her piping bag and setting it aside. “That’ll be the main skill you learn from me. I’ll make one for you soon - actually, on second thought, you’ll make it yourself. This is an essential tool, and it’s better to have one that suits your grip and habits perfectly. Once you have your bag, your daily task will be piping biscuits dough into proper shapes. It’s repetitive, boring work, but it’s compulsory for your training.”

  Josh’s eyes widened. “Sensei, you mean the fancy biscuits? The ones we can sell for a higher price at the stall?”

  “Well, that is if you can make it fancy,” Jade said as she poured the cream from the jar into a bowl. “People are willing to pay more for things that look refined, even though the shape of a biscuit doesn’t affect the taste at all. What they’re paying for isn’t just fvour. It’s the difference. The appeal. The story behind it. The unseen value…”

  Her words lit up Josh’s eyes - and not only his. Several children nearby had paused to listen, too.

  “Joy. Satisfaction. A sense of delight,” Jade continued evenly. “That’s what we’re selling. And to deliver that, we need skill. Mastery - the kind achieved through years of learning, repetition, trial, and error. It’s tiring, boring, and often frustrating. You will have to build ‘castles in the sky’ for a customer, or find a way to make something patable when you have limited resources or budget. Much like how I developed the recipe for this biscuit.” She gnced at Josh. “And soon, you’ll be the one responsible for the next recipe in our iron oven project.”

  Josh pointed at himself. “Me? B-but I–”

  “Rex.” Jade patted his arm. “I won’t throw you into deep water without a rope. It’ll start with a simple adjustment - nothing complicated.”

  She guided him through the cream whipping process, identifying the exact moment the cream reached its peak and halting the motion just in time. Then, she showed him how to effectively fill the bag with frosting and, with a flick of her wrist, demonstrated a clean, elegant swirl that resembled a blooming rose, the same signature flourish she used for the pricer biscuits.

  Josh took the bag next.

  What came out was unfortunate.

  A lopsided, dung-like splotch earned an immediate burst of ughter from the children surrounding him.

  Unlike Jade’s demonstration, the others continued their biscuit dough with the usual method: weighing portions on the small scale the domus owned, rolling the dough into neat balls, pressing a dent into the center to form a disk, the finally added a dot of strawberry jam - the same technique Sister Miriam used.

  Jade quietly scraped both the rose and the splotch back into the bowl; the demonstration was over, frosting was too precious to waste on anything but cake. She took another piping bag filled with biscuit dough and piped out another perfect swirl, effortlessly

  Seeing her apprentice defte, Jade gave his arm another pat as she shoved the biscuit dough piping bag into his hands. “It took me hundreds of attempts to make something acceptable. Thousands to make it look like that. There are no shortcuts, boy. Practice.”

  “Yes, Sensei,” Josh replied, straightening his back. He took a deep breath, narrowing his focus back onto the piping bag. The surrounding children, still giggling, quietly rescued his misshapen results by rolling them back into simple balls - they certainly couldn’t sell those funny-looking biscuits - while setting aside the few that looked halfway acceptable.

  Jade returned to the side of the domus’s Mr. Rich Sponsor. “Sir. Entertained?”

  “Very much so,” Ashborne replied pleasantly. “Especially by the knowledge my wise consultant keeps casually revealing.”

  Jade rolled her eyes mentally at his compliment, feeling like nothing more than a TV chef performing for an audience.

  “I’m particurly intrigued by the mechanical whisk you mentioned,” Ashborne added. “My estate is well equipped, yet I’ve never heard of such a device.”

  “I bet you don’t know half of what exists in your own kitchen, Sir,” Jade said pinly. “Just as I don’t have the faintest clue of what lies within your study.”

  He chuckled. “Then I would gdly invite my consultant to tour it someday.” He rested both hands on the head of his walking stick. “Miss Jade, I am curious - why are you so reluctant to accept my offer? You do not seem like the type to be bothered by gender spheres; surely you would be comfortable even working among men. I am certain I need your help to better manage my investments and avoid repeating the blunders reported in the news. With your ability, working under me could soon afford a proper house.”

  “That’s mainly because you’re kind enough, Sir, to tolerate my improper manners - something I’m still quite confused by,” Jade replied, refusing to be lured by his promise. Her tone remained matter-of-factly. “Though I have only been here a few months, that has been long enough to see the tedium of dealing with the middle and upper css. Etiquette. Speech. Conduct. Subtle rules I don’t know, and frankly, have no interest in learning.”

  Jade exhaled a small, frustrated sound. “I still cringe whenever I think about the moment I met your father… Dang, what’s wrong with my brain that day? Greeting him like that…” Her voice trailed off, but it was loud enough for Ashborne to catch every word.

  “Ah, a very decent curtsy, Miss Jade,” Ashborne remarked. “My father said she had seen something simir during his voyage to one of the colonized nds - a far eastern nd with customs very different from ours.”

  Still not my country - and definitely not any safer. Getting myself beheaded would be much easier there than here, Jade thought. Aloud, she said evenly, “I am now a legal resident in Flond, and that is all that matters now. Anyway, much of what I remember doesn’t quite align with how things are done here. I’ll probably embarrass myself many more times without even realizing it. With that in mind, I’d rather do so in a safer pce - like this domus. However, it would be a very different matter if I were under your House, Sir.”

  She couldn’t imagine the consequences of making her employer - the generous Mr. Rich Sponsor - lose face before other nobles. That would be a catastrophe best avoided entirely

  Ashborne studied her eyes, catching the quiet firmness in them. “Another rejection, Miss Jade. I am beginning to look like a pitiful man who has been turned down by a decent dy more times than he can count.”

  “A decent dy?” Jade snorted softly. “Sir, I’m as rough as a farmmaid. There’s nothing decent about me. As for you, Sir - you’ll remain popur among the dies, I have no doubt. Don’t you worry about that.”

  A brief silence settled over their corner of the bakehouse.

  Ashborne broke it with a shrug. “Should you ever change your mind, Miss Jade, House Ashborne will gdly welcome you. That promise stands.”

  “I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Jade replied with a crooked smile. “You’re my backup pn if disaster strikes, Sir. I’ll be sure to pray to the Light for our dearest sponsor to live a long and healthy life.”

  “And you don’t even try to conceal your calcution, Miss Jade,” Ashborne said, amused. “That is hardly the behaviour of a decent dy.”

  “Well, that’s what friends are for,” Jade said with a shrug, already turning away. “Josh - leave the cake alone. It’s not ready yet…”

  “Friends?” Ashborne murmured.

  He blinked, leaned closer to his secretary and asked in a lowered voice, “I have never had a female friend aside from my cousins. Have you? What exactly does one do with a friend of the opposite gender?”

  Mr. Trent answered without hesitation. “My lord, I must be honest; I have never heard of simple friendship between a man and a woman. Everyone assumes an engagement the moment they appear too close,” he said, his expression as stolid as ever. “In my experience, a woman approaches a man to measure his suitability, and a man does the same - whether out of affection, self-interest, or pin social standing.”

  Ashborne recalled every interaction he had shared with Jade and nodded slowly. “Miss Jade did not see me as such. I have seen those measuring looks at parties and balls, and she has never once regarded me that way. Fascinating…I had never considered the possibility of befriending a maiden.”

  “My lord,” Mr. Trent advised calmly, “it would be prudent to maintain a degree of distance. Please ensure that either I or a servant is present whenever you meet Miss Jade, to avoid unnecessary specution.”

  “Of course,” Ashborne agreed. “I would not risk subjecting my rare friend to scandal or gossip.”

  His gaze drifted back to the workstations, where Jade was guiding Josh through the process of smoothing the frosting and demonstrating the finer points of decoration using a piping bag. Her movements were practiced, deliberate, confident. Yet, it was clear that the tools at hand were a poor match for her preferences; she seemed accustomed to a specific, specialised kit - much like that “mechanical whisk” she had mentioned, a device he had never even heard of.

  I should ask her about that next time. Ashborne thought.

  He took another bite of the freshly baked cake, its surface adorned with intricate cream patterns. He gazed, blinked, and mused, She hadn’t been exaggerating in the slightest. She truly was exceptional at decorating a cake.

  Qiya