CHAPTER 1- We Need a Cook-III

 

In the realm of her daily routine, Willow gracefully wielded the broom, its bristles caressing the worn and broken floor, while her discontent echoed through the ancient confines of her second life. "Why, in this forsaken world, must I be confined to sweeping, when I could be traversing distant lands and rescuing imprisoned princesses?" she bemoaned.

A mellifluous voice, as alluring as a siren's call, interjected with a mischievous undertone. "Are you certain, my dear, that you are not the princess in need of salvation?" Vivienne, the friendly witch who dwelled within those walls, intoned in her captivating timbre.

Willow, bristling with defiance, jabbed back, "Watch your wicked Mouth, you ancient hag."

A mischievous glint danced in Vivienne's eyes as she provocatively suggested, her tone husky and intimate, "Or you can put them for better use, what do you say?"

Willow shook her head, knowing all too well the dangerous path such conversations could lead her down. Not again, she thought, determined to resist the temptation.

As the final stroke of the broom marked the completion of her sweeping, the stalwart Stablemaster, Gideon, strode into the scene with his resonant voice that could rouse even the dullest spirits. "Where, pray tell, do my scorched sandwiches lie?" he queried, his tone as lightning as ever, momentarily uplifting the somber atmosphere of the inn.

Gideon, ever inquisitive and eager, continued, "And what of our new guest? Has she awakened from her slumber yet?"

Willow responded with a simple, "Not yet."

"And so, our breakfast..." the witch whispered, horror etched upon her face.

"On it," Willow retorted sharply, her eagerness propelling her towards the kitchen. Today might be the last day she would serve breakfast if the Demon Lord, their esteemed guest, agreed to take over as the chef. With a fervent resolve, she vowed to prepare at least one palatable meal before relinquishing the kitchen to the young girl assuming the role of the fearsome Demon Lord. 

Slapping her forehead in exasperation, she realized she had once again forgotten to sweep the kitchen for the sixth consecutive day. She hurriedly washed the crockery, a sense of urgency fueling her every move. Once again, she found herself relying on stale bread.

Engaging in a valiant and raging battle with the kitchen monsters, who seemed determined to burn her sandwiches, Willow summoned every ounce of courage within her. Through sheer determination and skill, she emerged victorious, triumphantly creating something for the first time in her life that could not be mistaken for charcoal.

Willow emerged from the kitchen, plates in hand, her chest swelling with pride. "Behold, perfectly crafted and delicious sandwiches ready to satisfy your appetite," she proclaimed, placing a plate in front of Gideon and another in front of Vivienne.

Vivienne, ever the discerning one, picked up the sandwich and sniffed it with a frown, her expression betraying a sense of mistrust. Willow let out a groan, suspecting that she had made some mistake.

"Are you a dog, sniffing your food?" Willow retorted, slightly exasperated by Vivienne's actions.

"I, being the sensible witch that I am, am attempting to detect what accursed spell the lord has cast to transform burnt coals into something that resembles an edible sandwich," Vivienne whispered, casting a sidelong glance at the Warlord who devoured the bread as if it were the most delectable delicacy. In Vivienne's opinion, he had no discerning taste whatsoever.

"I made them with these very hands that have never once cast a spell, though I've always yearned to," Willow spoke, feigning hurt. Her confidence soared as she observed Gideon consuming the sandwiches without a single grimace. Perhaps there was hope for her culinary skills after all.

"I refuse to believe it. Even if the ground were to rupture beneath us, and the eternal dark flames of the imperial hell were to consume us all, I would find that more believable," Vivienne replied dramatically, emphasizing her disbelief with grand gestures.

"I don't care. You can discard them if you wish," Willow retorted, her tone firm. Yet deep down, she secretly desired the feedback, despite her outward denial.

"I wouldn't want to waste your efforts, so I have decided to grace you with my feedback," Vivienne declared, asserting her high and mighty position.

"I want none of it, thank you," Willow denied, though in truth, she couldn't resist the allure of praise from the esteemed Witch.

"A very commendable creation, if I must say," the witch remarked, devoid of any hint of satire in her words. "Why don't you eat it yourself?" she prompted, an eyebrow raised. Willow couldn't help but find the suggestion suspicious, yet her hunger, especially after the chaos of the previous night, began to gnaw at her.

Willow cautiously picked up her sandwich, anticipation coursing through her veins. Finally, she had managed to cook something edible. She took a bite, and in that instant, she realized it was something beyond this world, but for all the wrong reasons. The moment her teeth sank into the sandwich, she felt the gritty crunch of sand. The taste hit her tongue, and tears welled up in her eyes. She had never experienced anything so outlandish, but not because it was delicious. Quite the contrary, it was indescribably terrible.

The fiery assault of excessive red chili overwhelmed her taste buds, while an excessive amount of salt sent tremors of terror rippling through her entire body.

In the span of a second, Willow felt an overwhelming surge of all those unpleasant sensations, causing her to forcefully expel the wretched sandwich onto the floor. Frustration coursed through her as she turned to Gideon, unable to comprehend how he had managed to consume such a repulsive concoction. The absurdity of his actions nearly drove her to shout out in disbelief. This was beyond inedible.

"In one too many wars, we found ourselves with nothing to eat. Our supplies were cut off, and in the worst-case scenarios, we were forced to devour beasts raw. Compared to that, this sandwich still tastes quite pleasant," Gideon calmly explained, seemingly unaffected as he casually reminisced about his bloody past. Willow shook her head, desperately trying to banish the image of consuming a wild beast in its raw form.

Turning her attention to the Witch, Willow accused her, "And you willingly coerced me into eating this."

"Why, my dear, did I not warn you that it would be dreadful?" Vivienne replied, her voice dripping with a magnanimous tone of 'I told you so.'

And so, another day at the Whispering Willow Inn began. Willow, opting not to venture outside, completed her cleaning duties before retreating to her room. There, she found the peaceful slumber of the little demon lord awaiting her.

Taking a seat at her study desk, Willow picked up her pen and began writing in her diary, documenting the events of the previous day. As she concentrated on her writing, a rustling sound caught her attention. Setting the pen aside, she looked up to find the dragon girl stirring from her sleep, her eyes filled with drowsiness as she surveyed her unfamiliar surroundings. Confusion mingled with the remnants of sleep, momentarily overtaking her senses. However, as the memories of the day before came flooding back, her eyes widened with alarm. She leapt from the bed, frantically searching for an escape route until her gaze landed upon Willow.

"YOU...!!" the dragon girl panicked, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"Calm down. Let's start with names, okay?" Willow spoke softly, her soothing tone aimed at calming the distressed dragon girl. "I'm Willow, the innkeeper of Whispering Willow Inn. The place you currently stand in is my room within the inn. Now, what is your name?"

"I am the Demon Lord. And I demand to know why I am imprisoned here," the dragon girl declared, attempting to sound strong but her voice revealing traces of childlike fear.

And so, another day at the Whispering Willow Inn began. Willow, opting not to venture outside, completed her cleaning duties before retreating to her room. There, she found the peaceful slumber of the little demon lord awaiting her.

Taking a seat at her study desk, Willow picked up her pen and began writing in her diary, documenting the events of the previous day. As she concentrated on her writing, a rustling sound caught her attention.

 Setting the pen aside, she looked up to find the dragon girl stirring from her sleep, her eyes filled with drowsiness as she surveyed her unfamiliar surroundings. Confusion mingled with the remnants of sleep, momentarily overtaking her senses. However, as the memories of the day before came flooding back, her eyes widened with alarm. She leapt from the bed, frantically searching for an escape route until her gaze landed upon Willow.

"YOU...!!" the dragon girl panicked, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"Calm down. Let's start with names, okay?" Willow spoke softly, her soothing tone aimed at calming the distressed dragon girl. "I'm Willow, the innkeeper of Whispering Willow Inn. The place you currently stand in is my room within the inn. Now, what is your name?"

"I am the Demon Lord. And I demand to know why I am imprisoned here," the dragon girl declared, attempting to sound strong but her voice revealing traces of childlike fear.

"You're not imprisoned. When you passed out in my care last night, I made the decision to bring you along with me. And now, I'd like to know your true birth name, as it is customary in Dragon culture," Willow explained gently, hoping to establish a sense of trust.

"I... am Lou," the dragon girl replied, her voice tinged with caution. "Now that I understand I am not imprisoned, I shall take my leave. Have a nice day, puny human." Lou's eyes darted towards the door, searching for a means of escape, particularly from the other two residents of the inn. She cautiously moved closer to the exit.

"They are outside," Willow remarked, observing Lou's movements with amusement. Lou's footsteps faltered, and she turned to face Willow.

"YOU!!" the dragon girl exclaimed, anger and surprise intertwining in her voice.

"A better use of your energy would be to sit here and have a simple conversation with me. After that, I promise to ensure you can leave without encountering them," Willow proposed, presenting an enticing offer. Lou contemplated for a brief moment before relenting, taking a seat on the wooden chair and facing the redheaded innkeeper.

"Your castle now lies in ruins," Willow began, her voice resonating with a tone akin to reading a report, recounting the somber reality.

"I expected no less," Lou replied, her tone laced with a hint of resignation, as if she had anticipated the demise.

"Your puppets have been reduced to mere dust," Willow continued,

"I witnessed their transformation," Lou acknowledged, 

"And now, I suspect you have no one to return to," Willow cautiously probed.

"Get to the point!" Lou's patience wore thin, her voice laced with frustration and impatience, yearning for a clear and direct statement.

"Since you have nowhere else to go, I extend an offer for you to stay here, in this haven I call my inn. In return, you will assume the role of our esteemed chef. No violence, no chaos, just the opportunity to travel the world and revel in moments of joy. What say you?" Willow's voice held a hidden excitement, concealed beneath her carefully chosen words.

Without hesitation, Lou rejected the proposition, her response swift and unwavering. "I say NO."

"Why?!" Willow's voice matched Lou's volume, a mix of confusion and frustration coloring her words.

"I am the Demon Lord, bound by pride and arrogance. I do not tend to the needs of inebriated humans and other lowly creatures," Lou stated proudly, her words dripping with a haughty arrogance.

"There's no such thing as a lowly creature. Your culinary skills can bring joy to anyone, regardless of their status," Willow insisted, attempting to break through Lou's stubborn façade. "And let's drop the role play, you're a dragon, not a demon."

"I am not a dragon," Lou argued, her voice resolute.

"YES, YOU ARE!" Willow's voice erupted, her frustration reaching its peak as she rose from her seat and slammed her hand on the desk, silencing the dragon girl.

Realizing her own lack of composure, Willow coughed and settled back into her seat. "I apologize for losing my temper. As I was saying, I am in dire need of a chef," she continued, attempting to regain her professionalism. But her stomach chose that moment to grumble audibly, and a blush crept onto Willow's face. "And if I don't find a chef soon, I won't be able to open this inn," she admitted, ignoring the sound of embarrassment.

Lou, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, remarked, "So, you don't know how to cook? And what about those two monsters?"

"They are even worse than me," Willow admitted, her voice filled with defeat as she rested her head on the desk. Hunger gnawed at her, and she couldn't help but think about satisfying her own appetite.

Lou contemplated for a moment, her eyes gleaming with greed. "If I cook, will they appreciate my skills?" she pondered aloud.

"Oh, you have no idea," Willow replied, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "If you ask them to let you sit on their heads, they will gladly oblige." She enticed Lou, knowing how easily a little girl's greed could be exploited.

Lou hesitated before agreeing, her conditions set. "I suppose I can be the chef for a while. But I reserve the right to leave whenever I desire. And as for my payment, I shall decide that after careful consideration. Rest assured, I won't demand anything beyond your meagre means."

Willow's smile widened, her plan falling into place. As long as Lou joined them, she would ensure that the girl never thought of leaving. There was so much fun to be had with her, especially as an adorable pillow to hug at night. A twisted smile crept onto Willow's face as the thought crossed her mind.

Unbeknownst to Lou, a foreboding feeling washed over her, and she glanced around nervously, searching for the presence of the two individuals she considered her nemeses. Unaware, she sat right in front of her true adversary.