The last of the kitchen chaos dissolved into soft laughter and a lingering sense of amazement. Staff slowly returned to their duties, though their eyes kept drifting back to the golden loaf as if it were some sacred relic.
Saphy, still holding the slicing knife, turned toward the one person who hadn't had a proper chance to react yet.
William.
He approached the counter with a cautious expression, as though expecting the bread itself to perform magic.
Saphy lifted another warm slice and offered it to him.
"Here, big brother."
He hesitated—only for a moment—before accepting it.
The slice was still warm against his fingers, the crust giving a delicate crackle as he gently pressed it.
Not hard. Not tough.
Just a thin, crisp layer that yielded like the surface of a cloud touched by sunlight.
William raised it closer.
The aroma hit him immediately.
A soft sweetness from the honey.
A mellow richness from the milk.
And beneath it all, a warm, comforting scent he had never encountered before — the unmistakable fragrance of yeast bread.
He inhaled once.
Then again, deeper this time.
"…This smell… It's completely different from anything I've eaten."
Saphy didn't answer. She only watched.
Finally, William took a bite.
The crust broke with the faintest whisper of crispness — a gentle tshk — giving way to an impossibly soft interior that seemed to melt on his tongue.
It was tender, airy, and warm, with tiny pockets of steam still trapped inside. The flavor bloomed slowly: mild sweetness, a mellow richness, and that round, deep taste of fermentation that was entirely new to this world.
He blinked… then stared at the slice in his hand.
"…Saphy," he breathed, voice softer than usual, "this… is incredible."
Another bite.
A slower one.
As if trying to understand it.
"This bread… feels alive. Completely different from what we know. It's… soft inside, but the crust…"
He pressed it lightly with his thumb, hearing the faint crisp sound.
"…how did you even make something like this?"
Saphy smiled, her eyes curving gently.
"This is yeast bread. The first one."
William stared at the slice again, as though he had just realized he was holding a piece of culinary history.
Soft.
Warm.
Crisp at the edges.
Perfectly risen.
The first of its kind in the kingdom.
Saphy held up the knife and smiled. "Everyone, taste it."
Without hesitation, the kitchen staff, maids, and nearby servants stepped forward. They had long grown used to this routine — whenever Saphy made something new, everyone got a slice.
She handed pieces to each of them, and as they bit in, a chorus of astonishment filled the room.
"It's… so soft!" Lina exclaimed, eyes wide. "I didn't think bread could be like this!"
The head chef chewed slowly, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "The crust… crisp, just slightly. But inside… it melts. I've baked bread for decades and never tasted anything like this."
Another maid clasped her cheeks, savoring the warmth. "It's… It's like the bread is alive! So fluffy… so warm!"
Even the youngest helper crouched slightly, holding his slice reverently. "It… It's incredible. Lady Saphy, this is… It's unreal."
The staff exchanged glances, each silent for a moment, letting the new flavor settle in. Then, one by one, murmurs of admiration, surprise, and disbelief spread quietly through the kitchen.
Saphy simply watched, pleased. Around her, every bite confirmed it: her first yeast bread had captured hearts — and taste buds — across the manor.
The warm, irresistible aroma drifted far beyond the kitchen. Soldiers training in the yard paused mid-swing, knights practicing drills froze mid-step, and servants carrying trays slowed, noses twitching. One by one, they followed the scent, drawn like moths to a flame.
When they entered, their eyes immediately locked on the scene: Head Chef Roff sitting at the counter, eyes closed in bliss, crumbs clinging to his fingers, as he lifted the last slice of the bread to his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring each bite with exaggerated delight, as if performing a private ceremony of indulgence right before their eyes.
The slice — soft, fluffy, and golden — vanished into him in a few satisfied mouthfuls, leaving nothing behind.
One of the knights crossed his arms, scowling, and muttered sarcastically, "Of course. He eats it all himself. How noble."
Another said," he's already so fat, and now he eats the last slice too. At this rate, his children will be orphans."
The soldiers groaned, the servants snickered, and even the other knights couldn't suppress a half-smile. The kitchen, still fragrant with the bread's warmth, had become a stage for a small, chaotic comedy — all sparked by one perfectly baked loaf.
William sighed, but he understood their frustration and quickly stepped in to calm everyone down. Then he turned to Saphy. "Do you have any more of the loaf?"
Saphy shook her head. The simple motion was enough to make everyone's faces fall. Whispers of disappointment and frustration rippled through the kitchen, and their irritation with Roff — who was still savoring the last slice with exaggerated delight — flared up again. Somehow, though, the thought that one slice could never satisfy so many hadn't crossed anyone's mind.
Saphy's eyes sparkled as she added, "I still have more yeast. This was only an experiment." She turned to the kitchen staff with a determined smile. "Let's make more. All of it."
The staff, experienced and skilled, didn't hesitate. They had watched her carefully during the first bread-making process, and now they grasped the technique almost immediately. Flour, water, milk, honey, and yeast — every motion precise, every fold and knead deliberate.
Soon, the kitchen was alive with motion. Kneading, shaping, and baking, everyone worked together — not just for the people of the manor, but for themselves. After tasting that first slice, one piece was simply never going to be enough.
Around two hours later, loaf after loaf emerged from the ovens, golden, soft, and steaming, filling the kitchen with an even more intense, irresistible aroma. The scent wrapped around everyone like a warm hug, making mouths water and hands twitch with anticipation.
Saphy stepped forward, holding up her hand. "Remember, the bread needs to rest before slicing!"
But her words barely registered. The temptation was too strong. Once the cooling period was over, the restraint vanished.
One of the maids, unable to wait, grabbed a loaf and started slicing it herself, humming with delight. A soldier tore a piece off another loaf with his bare hands and sank teeth into it, crumbs falling everywhere. Knights, not wanting to be outdone, picked up swords and began slicing loaves as if they were dueling with the bread itself.
Within moments, the kitchen had descended into chaos. Flour dusted the floor, crumbs scattered across counters, and laughter, shouts, and exclamations of delight filled the air. Bread flew from hands, swords, and trays alike, each slice disappearing almost as soon as it was cut.
Saphy simply watched, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. The experiment had clearly succeeded — perhaps a little too well.
As Saphy took a bite of a plain slice, a thought suddenly struck her. "What could be better than freshly baked bread?"
Her eyes sparkled. "Freshly baked bread with honey-butter."
She quickly bowed to the task at hand, scooping a generous amount of butter into a large bowl. She knew perfectly well that once she started eating, everyone else would want to try it too. Carefully, she added honey, swirling and tasting, adjusting the balance until the flavors harmonized perfectly — the richness of the butter softened by the golden sweetness of the honey, neither overpowering the other.
Then, with a small, satisfied smile, she spread the warm, glossy honey-butter over a fresh slice and took a bite.
The flavor hit her instantly. The buttery richness melted luxuriously across her tongue, smooth and creamy, while the honey added a gentle, fragrant sweetness that lingered, warming her from the inside. The soft, airy bread yielded beneath her teeth, the slight crisp of the crust giving way to a tender, cloud-like interior. Each bite was a perfect harmony of warm, soft, and sweet — comforting, indulgent, and impossibly satisfying all at once.
Her eyes lit up, sparkling with delight, and a small, happy hum escaped her lips. This… this was perfection.
As Saphy savored her slice, just as she had expected, everyone's eyes widened, and voices chorused in unison. "Can we try it too?"
She grinned and nodded. "Of course."
One by one, the staff, knights, soldiers, and maids each took a slice, spreading the honey-butter themselves or letting Saphy help. As they bit in, their expressions transformed instantly — eyes widening, mouths going slack, and soft murmurs of delight filling the room.
The rich butter melted into the warm, fluffy bread, and the honey added a sweet, fragrant layer that made each bite irresistible. One slice was never enough; everyone savored it slowly, then immediately reached for another, unable to resist the perfect combination of soft, warm bread and golden, melting honey-butter.
The kitchen had turned into a scene of quiet chaos, with laughter, crumbs, and satisfied sighs filling the air — all over a simple, yet magical, slice of bread.
Outside the kitchen, a very different scene was unfolding. The Astley couple stood together, looking quietly dejected. The rich, irresistible aroma of freshly baked bread — and now honey-buttered slices — had reached them, teasing their senses from afar.
By the time they arrived at the kitchen, it was already too late. Soldiers, servants, and kitchen staff were crowded around the counters, laughing, talking, and savoring slice after slice. Seeing the sheer delight on everyone's faces made the couple's own disappointment deepen.
They exchanged a glance, each shrugging helplessly. They couldn't simply barge in; dignity, after all, had to be preserved. And so, they lingered at the doorway, silently watching, noses twitching with temptation, while the laughter, crumbs, and satisfied sighs from inside carried through the air.
The next morning, the dining hall was unusually quiet. Lisa and Charles sat at the breakfast table, each holding a warm, freshly sliced piece of the new bread.
Lisa took the first bite. Her eyes widened instantly.
"…Charles."
"Yes?" he replied, already chewing.
"This… this is how bread should be."
Charles nodded vigorously, swallowing with difficulty. "Finally, someone said it. The outside—listen to this." He tapped the crust lightly; it gave a soft crrrk. "Crunchy. Properly crunchy."
Lisa tore another piece from the inside, watching the soft strands pull apart. "And look at this interior… so airy. So light." She brought it close to her nose. "And it smells clean. No strange after-scent."
Charles grimaced as he remembered. "Those old breads made with baking powder and soda… even if you close your eyes, you can still taste the powder."
Lisa nodded. "Exactly! But this—this is completely different. It's pure. Gentle. It feels like it melts."
Charles took another bite, speaking with his mouth half full. "If this existed years ago, I would've fired half the bakers in the capital."
Lisa shot him a look. "…Charles."
He cleared his throat. "Ahem—of course, I wouldn't. Probably."
She smiled despite herself, tapping her slice lightly against his. "To think… Saphy made this."
Charles leaned back with a sigh full of pride and disbelief. "Our daughter has reinvented bread."
Lisa closed her eyes as she took another bite. "If this is breakfast from now on… I may cry."
"Me too," Charles agreed, already reaching for a second slice.
Saphy tapped her fingers lightly on the table, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "Father, there's… something I've been considering."
Charles lifted his eyes from his plate, already sensing that tone. "Oh? That sounds serious. Go on, Saphy."
She inhaled, steadying herself. "I won't exactly say I'm done inventing new dishes, but… I think I've made more than enough for now."
Charles chuckled. "More than enough? You've turned this entire castle upside down. Even the maids walk around with stars in their eyes these days."
Saphy puffed her cheeks slightly but pushed forward. "That's why I was wondering—no, deciding." She straightened her posture. "I think it's time to build a restaurant."
The dining hall fell silent for a breath.
Charles leaned back in his chair, staring at her with an expression somewhere between awe and resignation. "I had a feeling… one day those words would come out of your mouth."
"Wait! Let me finish first," she said, waving her hands. "I don't want a place just for nobles. Delicious food should be tasted by everyone—not only the rich, not only the highborn, but the entire city."
Charles raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Everyone, hm? That's a bold stance."
"Because it's true," Saphy said firmly. "But I still don't want to make it too cheap. If I do that, every other restaurant, inn, and tavern in Eddleguard will collapse by the next season." She sighed softly. "I don't mean to brag, but… after tasting so many things, I've realized the food culture here is really lacking."
Lisa nodded sympathetically. "It is lacking, yes… but you want to raise the standard without destroying livelihoods."
"Exactly!" Saphy clapped lightly. "So my restaurant will be high-end. Luxury, even. Commoners can still eat there, but… realistically? Probably once a week at best." She looked down, thoughtful. "…But that's fine. That's balanced."
Charles stroked his chin. "And what about the structure? Have you thought that far?"
Saphy brightened immediately—as though he had just unlocked a chest of excitement. "Yes! I already have the design planned." She held up three fingers. "The first floor is purely for take-away. Quick service, clean and orderly."
Charles nodded, following.
"The second floor is dine-in—comfortable, polished, welcoming. The third floor…" She closed her fingers one by one until only her index finger remained. "…will house private rooms. Soundproof, elegant, perfect for nobles, merchants, and families who prefer privacy."
Charles exhaled deeply and smiled in defeat. "You really never do anything halfway, do you?"
She grinned. "Of course not."
"And the takeaway? Any special ideas?"
"Yes," Saphy said immediately. "There will be a variety of bags. Simple paper bags for commoners. Then, sturdier, more refined bags for higher-paying customers. And for merchants, nobles, and even royals—luxury bags. Beautiful ones."
Charles rubbed his forehead. "You've already thought through everything…"
Saphy leaned forward mischievously. "Father, you taught me to take things seriously."
Charles groaned. "…I regret it now."
Lisa laughed softly, and Saphy smiled—eyes gleaming with pure, unbridled ambition.
Breakfast slowly drew to a close, yet the air at the Astley table still hummed with excitement. Charles leaned back, arms crossed, studying his daughter with a look that mixed pride, disbelief, and that gentle fear all parents have when their child grows too quickly.
Lisa pressed a hand to her cheek, smiling softly at Saphy's glowing enthusiasm. Our little girl… she really plans to reshape this world's cuisine.
Charles finally let out a resigned sigh—one that betrayed the faint curl of a smile. "Very well, Saphy. If this is the path you want… then the Astley family will support you."
Saphy's eyes widened, lighting up like twin suns. "Really!?"
"Really," he said with a firm nod. "But this will be a major undertaking. Budgets, land, staff, equipment—"
"I already have ideas!" she shot back instantly.
Charles raised both hands. "Yes, yes. Of course you do." He stood, brushing off his coat. "Then, after lunch, we'll gather the necessary people. Let's make your dream real."
Saphy's heart fluttered as she hugged her sketchbook to her chest. A restaurant… my restaurant…
Outside the stained-glass windows, Eddleguard's morning sun broke through the clouds, painting golden streaks across the city—like a quiet blessing.
The first step toward a new culinary era had begun.
And Saphy?
She couldn't wait.