Damon followed her into the kitchen without a word, his presence quiet but attentive as he positioned himself slightly to the side, not interfering yet not disengaged either, his gaze moving carefully across every motion she made while she began preparing the meal.
The kitchen soon filled with a soft rhythm, the sound of utensils meeting surfaces, the faint crackle of heat, and the subtle aroma of ingredients blending together as the maid worked with surprising ease, her movements natural and practiced, almost as if she had done this countless times before.
Damon's eyes shifted to the ingredients laid out across the counter.
One by one, he examined them.
His fingers picked up a leaf, rubbing it lightly between them before bringing it closer to his nose, analyzing its scent, then placing it back down as his gaze moved to another, a powdered substance he had never seen before, its faint glow almost imperceptible unless observed closely.
