Dungeon? This Tree? Why Don't You Join Me for Lunch? (Dungeon Core)
Chapter 68: One, Two… Three?

Chapter 68: Chapter 68: One, Two... Three?

"Ours?" I repeated, dropping the spatula. Nate was there to save the day and catch it. A real treasure, that one.

What was I ever going to do without him?

"Yes, ours!" Desmond jumped to his feet, but Aron tugged him back down.

"Don’t you dare yell in Sylvan’s face! You know he only has food on his mind," which was a strange thing for your soulmate to say, but that didn’t mean that I wanted for him to have such an opinion of me.

Even I knew I was a drake. But was I really to blame? After all, no one told me that they wanted me!

Apart from Aron, who seemed to understand me better than I understood myself.

"Well," I took the bowl with the batter and began to dump it inside of the prepared baking tin.

Now, some people liked to swear by oil and flour to make sure that their cakes didn’t end up as part of the tin, but, well, that wasn’t an option.

But I had a rune even for that! A rune which... glued the tin with baking paper!

Which was just rice paper if I had to be honest.

I then began to hit the tin against the floor. It had nothing to do with Desmond.

It was just the right way to do things.

"Oh? So, you are too good for me?" He asked, misunderstanding something that was vital for every cake.

I began to blink.

"I’m making you a cake," I whispered, my eyes wide. He was gathering necromantic mana. "Don’t you... like cake?"

"Cake makes me barf!" Desmond yelled, only to get a hand to the mouth by Nate. I blinked.

When had Nate left my side?

"Look here, you!" Nate hissed. He didn’t raise his voice. Just kept his hand over Desmond’s mouth.

Which, considering that Desmond was a Boliarin, could result in bit off fingers.

Or even a missing hand.

I had no idea how strong Desmond’s teeth were, but as the man glared at his colleague, I just stood there and watched.

"Sylvan loves to cook!" It was the truth. It was the one thing I could do without making a mess of it. "And he is making you a cake you can eat! And to make the cake, he has to hit it against a hard surface a couple of times, so everything can bake equally!"

Desmond’s eyes widened.

I was still there, the batter in my hands, my ember eyes wide.

"I’m just making you a cake. So, you will quit your diet," I whispered. Then I began to blink. "You... you aren’t on a diet, are you?"

Nate took his hand off Desmond’s mouth. Aron let go of him. He just stood there so, as if the two were still restraining him.

"Sylvan," he stood up. He made one uncertain step towards me, and then another. "I... when you shot down Nate, I thought I wasn’t going to be good enough either."

I nodded. I would have thought the same. Expect... I would have quit.

Respected his decision.

"And then I felt as you and Nate merged!" I began to blink, looking at Nate.

He pointed at Aron.

"I included him in our soul bond, while we were, you know...?"

Oh, I did know.

"Before or after you were yourself again?" It was important for me to know.

Because if Aron had been himself, then I could finally name the priest who had married us!

"After," Aron’s slight smile might have eclipsed the sun at that moment.

"Yes!" I jumped up, the batter still in my hands. Some of it ended up on the floor, I was not finished putting it all inside of the tin.

But I was really married!

By a vampire, who was also one of my husbands, but that meant only one thing!

"Ok, here’s the deal:" I was old. I didn’t like thinking about my age anymore. Or the fact that the life-extending ring I had absorbed might have made me into a true immortal. "We will put Desmond to the test to see if he is ready to be married to us!"

I smiled at the redhead and then placed the tin in the preheated oven.

"Test number one!" I held up a finger, he sat by me, his hands reaching out to me. "Desmond, how does one test to see if a cake is ready?"

Desmond froze.

"I...well, I guess... Nate! Sylvan doesn’t want me!" He whined.

"Look, Sylvan is the Foodie Nymph," Nate told him in a leveled tone. "And if you want to make him happy, you have to cook with him!"

"Aron didn’t cook with him! He didn’t lift a finger for the cake!" Desmond continued to whine.

"Just ask him! He wants you to learn!" Aron was one giggle away from rolling on the floor.

I smiled.

"Yes? I’m waiting!" I told him, as I took one of his hands and kissed the back of it.

It was done quickly. About as romantically as a cat waiting to pounce on its owner.

But as he began to stare at his hand with rosy cheeks, I knew I had him.

Although... I guess I have had him for a long time now.

"How do we check the cake then?" He asked finally, his blue eyes locked into my own.

"Well!" I blinked.

Ok, normal cake normally got checked with a pointy stick. But this was no normal cake. This was... weird pasta cake.

"I don’t know..."

I looked at the oven, then at Desmond.

"Just trust your nose," Nate offered helpfully.

"Yeah, that! See, Desmond? We learn a new thing every day!" I hugged him, patted him on the back, and then deposited him next to me. "Trust your nose!"

"Ok," Desmond said, as he stared at the oven. "What is this cake supposed to smell like?"

"Uhm..." Now, what was baked quinoa, which had been boiled beforehand, supposed to smell like?

"Not burned," Nate offered again.

"Yeah," I replied weakly, not believing that my nose could get the right crust on the first try.

But, hey, I could cover it all up with ginger... if it turned out too ugly...

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