That late afternoon sun glowed warmly as it began to set. The kitchen buzzed with voices, full of debate. The scent of fresh bread and traditional pastries filled the air, mingled with dried herbs and carefully arranged thyme on the wooden shelves.
The kitchen was medium-sized, its walls covered with old patterned tiles. A large table sat in the middle, covered in half-full tea mugs and old recipe notebooks dusted with a fine layer of flour—like relics of unforgettable memories.
Leona's mother stood at the end of the table, speaking excitedly:
– "I suggest we start by developing a new flavor, not just a new look. For example… we could mix almond with dates, or make rose-shaped pastries stuffed with surprising fillings—like apple and cinnamon."
The grandfather, an elderly man in his late seventies, firm-faced as if time had carved itself into him, shook his head slowly:
– "Thinking ahead is good, but change isn't always the answer. The traditional flavor is what built the family's name."
The grandmother, running her finger across the page of an old recipe book, replied gently:
– "But people's tastes change. We don't want to be forgotten."
One of the aunts, a plump woman in a pink apron, sighed:
– "I don't see the need for all this stress. The bakery is still running, and people still come. Why take the risk?"
Another uncle, bald-headed and sharp-faced, interjected gruffly:
– "The risk is clear. The pastries all look the same. People are looking for something new… we need to offer something different."
At that moment, the wooden door creaked open slowly.
Katrina—"Leona" in their eyes—entered, hands behind her back and head lowered respectfully.
She spoke softly:
– "Excuse me… may I say something?"
A brief silence followed. Then the grandmother raised an eyebrow, surprised:
– "And what business is it of yours? This is grown-up talk, Leona."
Katrina didn't flinch. She nodded slightly and smiled calmly:
– "I apologize… but I think I might have a solution to your problem."
A tense hush filled the room. Leona's mother stepped closer, a mix of affection and concern in her gaze:
– "Sweetheart, go back to your room. This isn't your responsibility. Let the adults handle it."
But Katrina didn't move.
She motioned slightly toward the hallway behind her, where Ren stood hesitating in the doorway. The mother turned toward him:
– "Ren, go with your sister."
But Katrina gently raised a hand, her voice steady and sure:
– "Don't worry, Mama. I really do have a new idea."
The uncle couldn't resist a jab. He stepped forward mockingly:
– "Suddenly you want to help? All this time, you've never lifted a finger. Selfish, just like always. What's changed now?"
Katrina looked at him with a cold, piercing stare and replied in a composed tone:
– "I'm not talking to you. I'm asking the grandparents, not you."
The tension in the room spiked.
The uncle's face turned red with anger as he barked:
– "That's disrespect! Just like your father!"
Katrina didn't respond. Instead, she looked directly at the grandparents and clasped her hands calmly in front of her—as if presenting a formal proposal.
The grandfather looked at the grandmother, then cleared his throat and said:
– "Speak."
Katrina exhaled slightly, then looked up with a hopeful glint in her eyes:
– "I know a recipe called mochi. A type of sweet—soft, chewy, and sweet. It can come in many flavors. It's different, but simple and attractive."
The family exchanged puzzled looks, unfamiliar with the name.
The grandmother murmured:
– "Mochi?"
Katrina nodded:
– "Yes. And I can make it. I just need permission… and some ingredients."
Before the grandfather could speak, the grandmother asked:
– "And if you fail?"
Katrina paused for a moment, then looked up steadily:
– "Lock me in my room. That's fair."
She thought to herself: "Better than beatings or humiliation, right?"
Some family members laughed mockingly, but the grandfather didn't smile.
He looked at the grandmother. They exchanged that wordless glance only long-married couples understand.
Then he said calmly:
– "Begin."
Katrina smiled… a soft smile, but it carried the breath of a small victory.
Then she turned toward the uncle—not with arrogance, but with full confidence. As if to say without words: See?
The uncle sighed heavily and looked away.
As for Ren, still watching from the door, he smiled… as if his "new" mother had just been born before his very eyes.
And so… a new adventure began.
In the heart of the kitchen, among the scent of flour… and the memories of the past.
•••
Sunlight streamed through the small kitchen window, casting a golden glow over the neatly arranged bowls of flour and starch atop the old wooden table. The scent of aged wood mixed with the soft fragrance of rice flour brought Katrina — or "Leona" as they called her here — a strange sense of peace, as if this place had been waiting for her all along.
Her mother rolled up her sleeve gently and asked,
"What would you like me to do, Leona? Should I start heating the water?"
Leona, focused on the bowl in front of her, replied with a soft smile without looking up,
"Yes, please. Heat it until it starts to boil, then lower the heat. We need it warm, not hot, or it'll ruin the dough."
The voice of little seven-year-old Ren rang out as he stood on tiptoes, trying to peek into the bowl.
"Is that candy? It smells like milk!"
Leona chuckled as she continued kneading with her hands, pressing the dough firmly with her palm.
"It's called mochi... and mochi means soft happiness in your mouth. But you'll have to be patient. Sweets take effort."
---
1. Making the Dough:
Leona mixed in a large bowl:
"Glutinous rice flour, warm water, and white sugar… I have to knead it quickly before the water cools."
She began kneading vigorously until the dough turned sticky and elastic.
(In their electricity-free world, she placed the dough in a metal bowl over a pot of steaming hot water on low heat, covering it with a thick cloth to create handmade steam.)
---
2. Steaming the Dough:
Sitting in front of the pot, wiping the sweat from her forehead, Leona murmured,
"This is the easiest step… and the hardest. I have to watch the steam carefully so it doesn't suffocate the dough… Fifteen minutes should do."
---
3. Preparing the Chocolate Filling:
While the dough steamed, Leona unwrapped a small cloth revealing pieces of chocolate.
"Strange... the chocolate here looks so pure."
She cut them into tiny squares and rolled them into small balls with her hands.
She whispered to herself,
"If they're not wealthy, how did they get such quality chocolate? Maybe things are priced differently in this world… or maybe they grow their own cocoa?"
---
4. Shaping the Mochi:
Once the dough was done, she let it cool slightly, then dusted her hands with starch to keep it from sticking.
She cut the dough into small portions, flattened each into thin discs with her palm, placed a chocolate ball in the center, and carefully folded them into smooth, glossy balls.
Ren watched, wide-eyed:
"Wow! How did you get the chocolate inside?!"
Leona grinned playfully:
"Chef's magic. And you? Still asking questions instead of helping?"
"I'll help! I will!" he said excitedly.
She handed him some starch and warned:
"Just sprinkle it on the table… don't come near me with it!"
---
Their mother quietly observed, then asked softly,
"Leona… where did you learn all this? These aren't foods from our region."
Leona paused for a second, nervously thinking: "Crap. I forgot about that."
She then lifted her gaze and said quietly,
"From... a faraway place. You probably wouldn't understand even if I explained. Let's just say it's a recipe from people who know how to create miracles from simplicity."
Her mother smiled and gently placed a hand on her shoulder:
"As long as you make it with heart, it'll be delicious — no matter how strange."
---
Leona arranged the mochi balls on a wooden tray dusted with starch. Each one looked like a tiny pearl made of white dough, hiding molten chocolate within. She was exhausted, but her heart brimmed with satisfaction.
She whispered to herself, wiping her hands with an old cloth:
"I didn't think I could do it without electricity... but maybe my brain works better when it's denied comfort."
She turned to her mother and little brother with a smile:
"Ready to taste? But be warned… mochi is addictive!"
---
Katrina's POV (as Leona):
I held a piece of mochi in my small hand — though I had no idea how I'd shrunk to this size, not that it mattered. The mochi was still warm, soft to the touch, with a delicate scent of sweet milk and toasted flour… My heart was pounding like I was about to confess a crime.
I glanced at Ren, then at my mother. All three of us smiled, a little tense.
"One, two, three…" Ren whispered like a commander preparing for battle.
And in perfect unison, we brought the mochi to our mouths...
The moment it touched my gums — it melted.
The soft skin, the smooth filling, the simple yet pure flavor. A tiny sugar bomb… but one that made a huge impact in the mouth.
Ren let out a muffled squeal:
"Mmm— oh my gosh!" he said with a full mouth and eyes wide in wonder.
My mother closed her eyes and cupped her cheek, as if the flavor had gone straight to her soul.
And me… I smiled. A warm feeling spread inside, pride and relief finally washing away all the tension.
"The taste... is perfect." I murmured, breathing slowly like I'd just moved a mountain off my chest.
Just seconds later, Ren jumped up, yelling with excitement:
"I'm getting everyone! They have to try this!"
He dashed off barefoot like an arrow, his voice echoing down the hallways.
Moments later, we heard steady, heavy footsteps — the door swung open... and the grandparents stood in the doorway.
They had an imposing presence, even in the kitchen.
The grandfather, stern-faced and wrinkled with age. The grandmother, with piercing eyes that missed nothing.
Behind them came the uncles and aunts… even those who used to ignore me completely now stood silently, watching.
I smiled nervously and bowed my head slightly. My hands were trembling, but my mother held one tightly, and little Ren clung to the other like a protective shield.
The grandfather approached and examined the mochi tray…
"Beautiful presentation," he said quietly as he picked one up.
The grandmother didn't say a word — just grabbed another.
That moment of silence felt longer than any speech I'd ever heard.
Then…
A bite.
Their eyes widened.
Grandfather paused for a second, like the flavor had hit a memory.
Grandmother smiled! She actually smiled!
They exchanged a look… an understanding.
Then they turned toward me, as I stood like a soldier awaiting judgment.
My mother squeezed my hand.
Ren whispered:
"Get ready…"
The grandmother sighed with warmth and pride in her tone:
"Very delicious… I didn't expect this from you, Leona."
She continued with a gentle smile:
"We'll add this to the family bakery… and we won't change its name. It'll stay mochi."
Oh my God… I actually did it.
I heard light cheering, soft claps from some of the aunts and uncles.
"Well done!"
"Amazing taste!"
"Leona's mochi — perfect!"
But in the corner… not all looks were kind.
Some gave me cold smiles, their congratulations dipped in sweet poison:
"Oh, really amazing… never thought a girl scared of the kitchen would pull this off!"
"Bravo, good move… who taught you, though?"
I didn't respond. Just smiled and bowed slightly.
On the inside?
I was screaming with pride.
One week. Just one. And I got them to taste something from my world.
And believe me… this is only the beginning.
•••
I was lying on the bed, my limbs relaxed, my mind... scattered.
The night was quiet—eerily so. That kind of silence that comes just before a storm.
Everything was still. Even the air didn't move.
The only sound was my uneven breathing, and the slightly open window letting in a faint breeze that made the cotton curtains dance.
I stared at the wooden ceiling, tracing the tiny knots and cracks between the planks... as if I was searching for a single, elusive answer.
Is my mother okay? My father? My sisters? My friends?
Where am I, really?
And... is Leona's soul living in my body back there? Was there some kind of soul exchange?
Is she safe now?
I let out a slow sigh and placed my hand on my chest, feeling the rhythm of my heart...
At the very least, I'm not completely alone here.
This world... it's old, strange, unsettling... but there are people who care about me.
"Rin… Mom…" I whispered to myself, smiling despite everything I was feeling.
And suddenly—
Tap… tap… tap.
Light knocking on the door—not even knocking really, more like a familiar tapping. I knew it instantly.
I smiled immediately... that's him.
"Come in, Rin…" I said softly.
The door creaked open slowly, then gently shut behind him.
The little boy walked in, carrying a candle, its flickering orange flame casting dancing shadows across his face, making him look like he'd stepped out of a fairytale.
He wore simple, old pajamas, his hair tousled, his eyes glimmering with a shy kind of light.
He spoke as he walked quietly across the room:
"I came…"
I closed my eyes for a moment, then sat up and made space for him beside me on the bed.
I took the candle from his hand and placed it on the small wooden nightstand.
He climbed onto the bed lightly and sat cross-legged next to me, staring at me like he was about to tell me a big secret.
I asked as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear:
"Why did you come?"
He whispered without lifting his eyes from the floor:
"You looked sad... ever since we got back from the library."
He paused for a bit, then added:
"I know you're upset because it wasn't what you expected… Most people here don't read much, that's why there's only one library."
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with the sincere concern only a child could offer.
Then, suddenly excited, he reached into his pocket:
"But…"
He pulled out a carefully folded paper and handed it to me with the pride of someone offering a treasure.
I unfolded it.
It was an old printed notice, announcing that an exam would be held tomorrow in the neighboring town's hall next to the stone clock tower, right in the afternoon.
They were selecting one hundred girls to work as maids in the imperial palace—an event that happened every month or two.
I looked at him, puzzled, not quite getting what he was trying to say.
I asked:
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
He sighed, smacked his forehead, and muttered:
"Ah… Sometimes I think you're a bit slow."
He said it jokingly, but he was clearly shocked.
Then he continued more seriously:
"If you take the exam and pass, you'll go to the palace, right?"
I nodded.
"And if you're smart and special, you'll get promoted. And if you get promoted, you'll be allowed into the palace library!"
That's when my eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh!" I gasped. "You're right! I never thought of that before!"
I held the paper in my hands like it was a golden ticket.
"So... if I pass, I can access the palace's library?"
"Finally!" he said, throwing his arms up like he'd just won a battle.
Suddenly, overwhelmed with joy, I hugged him tightly.
He froze for a second, clearly stunned, body stiff—but then he smiled brightly and hugged me back with all the innocent warmth in the world.
I whispered to him as I held him:
"Thank you, Rin… You're a genius."
He rested his head on my shoulder and said with childlike pride:
"I know."
We sat there for a while, wrapped in a warm silence, the candle melting slowly beside us.
I felt a true warmth—not just from the hug, but from the new hope this little boy had just given me.
Tomorrow, I'd prepare.
I'd fight.
I'd enter that palace… for Katarina. For Leona. For the truth.
And that night, I drifted off to sleep with a smile, the paper still in my hand, while Rin stayed curled up beside me…
And I didn't ask him to leave.
To be continued…
I apologize, my friends, for not publishing the third episode yesterday. I hadn't finished writing it yet, and there were also some personal reasons that caused a delay.
That's why the episode was postponed until today.
If I manage to finish writing the fourth episode quickly today, I might publish it as well. But if there's a delay, I hope you understand.
I wish you an enjoyable read with episode three!
See you soon! 💫