"No, Master," "No, My Lord," they implored, bringing me to a halt.
Fae took my left hand, panic evident in her emerald green eyes. Her voice quivered with a blend of gratitude and concern as she said, "Master, you don't have to dirty your hands for us."
Standing beside her, Elva firmly held my other hand. Her expression was resolute, her unwavering blue eyes speaking volumes. She declared, "It's our duty to serve you, my Lord," with unwavering loyalty in her tone.
As Fae released my hands, a sudden inspiration guided her toward the kitchen. "In fact," she continued, nodding to her own idea, "we will make something for ourselves right now." Determination laced her voice.
Watching them head for the kitchen, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and admiration for their steadfast loyalty and dedication. I paused, gently holding their hands to prevent their kindness from going unnoticed.
Resolute and with a heart full of gratitude, I insisted, "Please, let me do this for you. It's the least I can do for all that you've done," my voice firm yet filled with appreciation.
They exchanged glances, realizing the unwavering determination behind my words. Though reluctant to accept, they comprehended that their Master was just as resolute in serving them.
With reluctant nods, they relented. Fae, her cute cheeks adorned with a smile, said, "Very well, Master♡. We will allow you this one time~." Elva, with a serious expression, added, "Yes, one time only, My Lord."
With their agreement, I smiled at their affirmation and entered the kitchen. The electric stove awaited me, and as I contemplated what to make, I couldn't help but wrestle with fragmented memories of someone teaching me to cook. Regrettably, I couldn't recall who that person was.
Noticing my hesitation, Fae asked with concern, "Do you need our help, Master?" I reassured her, saying, "No, you two, go sit. I'll be right out with breakfast." Fae and Elva reluctantly took seats at the kitchen table.
Even though I couldn't recall the identity of my cooking mentor, I remembered some of the dishes they had taught me and a familiar sense of confidence began to take hold.
Considering they had made me an omelet, I decided, "Let's make Eggs Benedict."
My Fragmented memories guiding the process of crafting Eggs Benedict began with the toasting of English muffins. I placed the halves in the toaster, watching as they transformed into golden, crispy vessels for the forthcoming delight.
While the muffins toasted, I moved on to the delicate art of poaching eggs. Filling a deep saucepan with water, I added a hint of vinegar to help coagulate the egg whites. As the water reached a gentle simmer, I cracked the eggs with care and let them glide into the pan, ensuring that the whites embraced the golden yolks.
In parallel, I sizzled Canadian bacon in a hot skillet, letting it caramelize to perfection. The delectable aroma of the bacon blended with the scent of the toasting muffins, creating a symphony of enticing fragrances in the kitchen.
Hollandaise sauce, the pièce de résistance of Eggs Benedict, was next on the agenda. I melted butter in a small saucepan over low heat.
As I watched the butter transform into a golden liquid, a thought crossed my mind that with my powers, I could whip up this dish in the blink of an eye. However, as I looked back at Fae and Elva, I could sense their anticipation growing, their eagerness to taste their Master's creation.
Even though the notion of creating this out of thin air was tempting, I realized that there was something deeply satisfying about preparing a meal for someone I cared about. It was a realization that I found genuine joy in cooking for those I loved.
As I thought, gradually, I whisked in egg yolks, lemon juice, and a pinch of cayenne pepper. The sauce thickened, taking on a luxurious, silky texture.
With all the components ready, I began the assembly. On each toasted English muffin half, I placed a slice of the perfectly caramelized Canadian bacon. Atop this, I carefully laid the poached eggs, their yolks like liquid sunshine, and drizzled a generous portion of the velvety hollandaise sauce.
The plate took shape as a work of culinary art, with each element complementing the others in a symphony of flavors and textures. It was a testament to the memory of that unknown mentor who had imparted this knowledge to me.
Carrying the plates to the kitchen table, I was met with anticipation in the eyes of Fae and Elva.
