Furious, Ares and Kirine stormed into the Emperor’s chambers the next day. No pleasantries exchanged, they launched into a barrage of complaints.
“You could have at least given us a warning! We had a daughter?!” Kirine’s voice crackled with disbelief.
“The shock of it all,” Ares added, trying to sound composed but failing miserably.
The Emperor, used to their theatrics, sighed deeply. “What difference would a heads-up have made?”
“At least we wouldn’t have been so blindsided yesterday,” Kirine countered.
Shifting the focus, the Emperor asked directly, “So, how is Sasha coping?”
Both Kirine and Ares had been unconscious for nearly a month, leaving their daughter, Sasha, alone and yearning for her parents. While the Emperor understood their frustration, their abrupt arrival reeked of self-absorption. After all, wouldn’t their primary concern be their child’s well-being, not their own surprise?
“By any chance,” the Emperor interjected with a sudden frown, “did you tell the child about your memory loss?”
Ares scoffed. “The kid? How could we possibly tell her something like that?”
Relief washed over the Emperor’s face. “Good, good. Absolutely no need to burden her with such a shock.”
Kirine, however, shot Ares a withering look. Just yesterday, he’d insisted on honesty with their daughter. Now, he was playing the concerned father? Disgusted, she silently muttered, Jerk.
As if a thought struck her, Kirine turned back to the Emperor. “Speaking of the house, where were all the servants?”
“Dismissed,” the Emperor replied. “Turns out they were compromised by the culprit.”
Before Kirine could delve into that, he continued, “Don’t worry about staffing for now. We’ll bring in new personnel later.”
“Understood,” Ares mumbled, his earlier defiance replaced by disappointment. The Emperor, noticing the shift, inquired with concern, “Did either of you get any sleep last night?”
Kirine clamped her mouth shut, unable to form a response. Beside her, Ares mirrored her exhaustion, rubbing his eyes raw.
“Personally,” he drawled, deliberately stressing the word, “I slept like a log. Can’t say the same for my… wife.”
Kirine flashed him a smile that held no warmth. “Oh, I slept beautifully. Thanks entirely to my… husband, of course.”
“Are you two bickering in front of me?” The Emperor’s voice boomed, exasperation lacing his tone.
“Not at all,” they chimed in unison, both receiving a skeptical look from the Emperor before he dismissed them with a dismissive wave.
Leaving the audience chamber, Kirine and Ares exchanged glares that could curdle milk. This is worse than I imagined, Kirine thought grimly. The staged accident had raised suspicions, but learning the servants were compromised sent a shiver down her spine.
Suddenly, Kirine stopped dead in her tracks, a new worry dawning on her. Cooking, cleaning, laundry? With no immediate replacements, they’d be responsible for the household chores. That’s the real problem.
Cleaning and laundry weren’t daunting; she’d done them since childhood. But cooking was another story, especially with a child in the house. Knowing her own culinary skills, the thought of feeding her daughter her concoctions felt borderline criminal.
There was only one solution.
“Can you cook?” Kirine blurted out, the urgency in her voice a stark contrast to Ares’ nonchalant shrug.
“Of course,” he replied, as if it were the most basic skill. “It’s not a big deal.”
Kirine’s curiosity flickered for a moment. Did young nobles these days learn to cook? But the question died on her lips as she refocused.
“Then you’re on cooking duty,” she declared.
“Why me?” he countered, raising an eyebrow.
“Because I can’t cook,” Kirine admitted with a grimace.
“Is culinary ineptitude something you wear as a badge of honor?” Ares mocked, a playful glint in his eyes despite his attempt to sound serious.
“It’s not a point of pride,” Kirine retorted, “but logic dictates the better cook handles the meals.”
“Fine, I’ll cook,” Ares conceded with a sigh. “What about you?”
Kirine hesitated, the enormity of the mansion sinking in. “Cleaning…” she started, then trailed off. There was no way she could handle it alone.
Sensing her struggle, Ares feigned concern with a sardonic smile. “Is there anything you can actually do?”
“Laundry and cleaning!” she shot back, her voice laced with exasperation. “But cleaning this entire place by myself is impossible!”
Ares met her gaze, his silence stretching until Kirine bristled, expecting another barb. But to her surprise, he spoke in a neutral tone. “Fine. You can set the table and play with the child while I cook.”
“Are you serious?” Kirine blurted, her disbelief evident.
Ares, seemingly unfazed, added, “And we can tackle the cleaning and laundry together.”
Kirine stared at him, speechless. “Why…?” she began, then stopped, her thoughts in a jumble.
Sensing her confusion, Ares prompted, “Any objections? Speak your mind.”
Kirine hesitated, then muttered, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice, “It’s just… surprising to see us actually agree on something.”