・・・・・
What a ridiculous dream.
Seriously, that was one wildly absurd dream.
Having always seen the kind and gentle Felix, I wonder if my subconscious just wanted to see a different side of him for once.
‘No, but still, this is kind of out of character.’
I was disappointed in my own dream.
How could I fail so miserably at analysing my own husband’s character?
Our refreshing, bright, and cheerful Felix was not some creepy, obsessive, yandere-type who said disturbing things like that!
There was no logic to this, no logic at all!
“Rin?”
Felix called out to me in a voice full of concern.
"Are you feeling unwell by any chance?"
Maybe I looked strange because I was staring into empty space, just zoning out.
He touched my forehead and tilted his head.
“You don’t have a fever, though.”
Even after confirming that I was physically fine, he still didn’t seem reassured.
He only withdrew his hand after casting a magical spell to boost my energy.
Then my mind cleared up, and a refreshing coolness tingled through my whole body, making me feel completely revitalised.
It was my favourite spell.
Because the magic itself seemed to resemble Felix perfectly.
Just being with him — like the spell — melted away my fatigue and lifted my mood.
It felt like my very soul was being purified.
As my stiff expression finally melted, I let out a soft laugh and suddenly threw myself into Felix’s arms, hugging him tightly.
Even with all my weight clinging to him, he held me firmly without a hint of wobble, embracing me right back.
‘The me in that dream… must’ve been locked up, huh?’
The door was locked, the windows were locked, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the room.
Even the potions were hidden away somewhere, and I wasn’t allowed to use cutlery.
As if I might harm myself.
Moreover, the way he was so certain I’d jump out the window if it were opened.
‘If Fel did confine me, it would have been out of necessity due to outside forces or unavoidable reasons.’
It was understandable.
Because if something were to happen, I would try to protect the people I care about by rushing into danger.
He might say, ‘I’m sorry, but please stay here for a while,’ and keep me locked up.
‘But seriously, that man from my dream — what kind of obsessive yandere from some K-romance fantasy novel was that?’
Well, it was just a dream, so maybe it was fine.
‘It might be a matter of taste.’
However, I hoped this wouldn’t create a misunderstanding.
This simply meant that it was about my personal taste for a fictional character appearing in a dream, not about Felix in real life.
Besides, the face was disguised as Felix’s.
So it might have been somewhat okay...
‘As expected, it was my subconscious acting up.’
Ugh, what a pervert.
I shuddered at myself and shook my head vigorously.
Trying to quickly shake off any lingering thoughts of a yandere-obsessed Felix from my mind.
・・・・・
“Why am I so bad at cooking?”
“Bad? What do you mean? You’re quite good.”
“No, I’m worse than even the kitchen assistants here.”
The head chef showed a troubled expression at my comment.
“Forgive me for saying this, but this isn’t just any kitchen — it’s the imperial palace’s kitchen…”
'What exactly are you competing against?' — He looked like he wanted to ask that.
Even if one worked as a kitchen assistant because of their connections to the imperial family, they would still have to be considered one of the top experts outside the imperial palace.
I shook my head repeatedly, worried he might misunderstand, and explained.
“Oh, I never meant that as an insult to you. I just overestimated myself. I really thought I’d do better than this.”
“You wanted to do better than this? Does that mean you dreamed of becoming an imperial palace chef?”
It sounded like he meant that doing better than this would make me a palace chef.
I widened my eyes in mock surprise and asked.
“Head Chef, you seem quite hungry for power.”
“This is not flattery!”
I knew that, of course.
I was just embarrassed for no reason and responded with a joke.
It was just a lament — not something I said to fish for praise.
“That’s not it. I’m called the best in the industry at potion-making…”
“You know how they say people good at making potions are also good at cooking?”
I tried to sound casual, but couldn’t stop my lips from pouting slightly.
“…To think I can only fry chicken this poorly.”
I wasn’t this frustrated when I failed at other dishes.
It was just so infuriating that I couldn’t recreate the Korean soul food properly.
And on top of that, the kitchen assistants fried chicken better than I did? My pride as a Korean wouldn’t allow that!
“What are you saying? This fried chicken is innovation itself — right to the core!”
“If the head chef had tasted chicken from my hometown, he wouldn’t say that.”
Well, of course, it was tasty.
It wasn’t burnt or undercooked, so there was no way the chicken could have tasted bad.
It was tasty, but it didn’t have that exquisite flavour you get when buying chicken from a proper fried chicken store.
The batter should be just thin enough to crumble crisply, letting the juices inside flow out, and the moist meat should melt as you chew.
“How on earth do they get that franchise taste?”
"Fran... what’s that?"
How should I explain this?
I just blurted something out.
“Uh… like, a mum’s special touch?”
“Oh, so fried and seasoned chicken are dishes developed by your mum?”
Well, let’s just go with that.
My homeland was like my mum(?), after all.
“Yeah… When my mum makes it, it’s divine — like food of the gods… Ugh!”
That’s when it hit.
I gagged and clamped a hand over my mouth.
‘Ugh, I think I’ve reached my limit.’
“Gasp — my lady! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
For the past few days, I’d been surrounded by the smell of oil while trying to perfect my fried chicken — and it was starting to make me feel sick.
“So even the smell of chicken can get sickening if you smell it for too long… Everyone really had a hard time because of me.”
“Oh? No, it’s our job — there’s no need to say something so obvious. But more importantly, my lady…”
The head chef seemed like he wanted to say something more.
But I was too overwhelmed by the smell of oil to wait for his words.
I quickly said my goodbyes to the flustered kitchen staff and hurriedly left.
With both hands full, I carried the fried chicken that had been carefully packed in advance.
But even after leaving the kitchen, my stomach still churned as if I had motion sickness.
“Ugh… what’s wrong with me…”
I felt like I was going to throw up.
But I just brushed it off, thinking it was probably because of the smell of oil.
I figured I’d feel better soon.
“I need to quickly give this to Fel and Chloe.”
Once I saw the two of them enjoying it, the queasy feeling in my stomach would probably ease.
I chuckled softly and hurried my steps.
・・・・・
I first headed to Claudia’s office, the one closest to the kitchen.
“Oh my goodness, you mean Rin developed this recipe herself? How is it that there’s nothing Rin can’t do?”
She was the kind of person who would praise me for simply walking, like watching a toddler take their first steps.
But this time, it was different.
Seeing her eyes widen in astonishment, I realised she genuinely liked the chicken I made.
‘Praise be to the Chicken God!’
A taste beloved by all!
‘Or maybe it’s just because this is a K-romance fantasy?’
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter.
Encouraged by her reaction, I happily rushed off to Felix, grinning from ear to ear.
However, of all time, it was the social season.
The palace was bustling with nobles from every territory, all gathered for the upcoming banquet.
And just as I expected…
I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when some young ladies and noblewomen I was fairly close with approached me.
“Your Highness, Irene!”
I tried to pretend I didn’t see them and make a run for it, but at the sound of that name, I couldn’t help but freeze in place.
“I asked you not to call me that…”
Maybe my reaction amused them.
Seeing me cringe, they burst into giggles like schoolgirls.
“Your Highness, Irene.”
Why was I being called such a strange title? It was all Claudia’s fault.
When she gave me a kingdom as a wedding gift, she even renamed it ‘Irene Kingdom.’
Thanks to that, if I accepted the throne, my title would’ve become ‘Irene Irene.’
‘Thank goodness I married Felix.’
At least now I could luckily be called ‘Irene Chamberlain.’
“I heard you gave up the throne because you didn’t want to be called ‘Your Highness, Irene.’ Is that true?”
Fluttering my lashes in mock annoyance, I answered the teasing question that was clearly meant to poke fun at me.
“You’d understand if your name became something like ‘Kelly Kelly.’”
“Oh dear, how dreadful!”
“Right?”
Of course, it wasn't just because of the name.
If I became queen and ruled the country, I’d be unimaginably busier than I was now, and I had absolutely no desire for that.
I had always dreamed of being a rich, lazy bum — and that dream hadn’t changed one bit.
All I ever wanted was to stay close to the person I loved and whisper “I love you” every single day — a hopelessly romantic couch potato at heart.
Of course, whenever I got bored, I’d write plays or experiment with new potions — just enjoying a slow, laid-back life.
Becoming queen? That was light-years away from my dream.
Still, it was a gift from Claudia. I couldn’t just reject her sincerity, so the conclusion I reached was…
‘I’d appoint someone to act as queen on my behalf.’
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