Chapter 09
Four Spoons
The voting was conducted anonymously.
The method was simple: place a spoon on the dish you liked better—Vivian’s or Merian’s—just like giving a rating.
Vivian and Merian stood with their backs turned, waiting for everyone’s decision.
Vivian was tense, twisting slightly as she faced backward, while Merian remained calm.
Behind them, the clatter of spoons sounded a few times, and finally Lady Mayfield announced that the voting was complete.
“Now, on the count of three, turn around.”
One… two… three.
Vivian and Merian both turned to see the spoons neatly lined on the counter next to each dish.
The result was…
“Two to two…?”
It was a tie.
For a moment, both stood frozen, unable to process it.
A tie.
Both had expressions that suggested they didn’t trust the result.
The servants who had voted looked guilty, glancing at Merian nervously.
The two maids who had voted were sending her overt glances that clearly said, “We chose you.”
It seemed loyalty to the household outweighed fairness—they chose comfort over truth.
After eating so eagerly earlier, too.
Thinking of how they had smiled at each other, Vivian felt a pang of betrayal.
Merian hadn’t even left much of her food behind.
Ha.
This was hardly a fair judgment.
Everything had gone back to square one.
Vivian had wanted to crush the arrogant head chef’s pride.
Frustrated, she clenched her fists.
Merian had been fuming ever since the result was announced and finally lost control, shouting:
“I refuse to accept this. A tie?”
Who was really complaining, though?
As Merian protested violently, Vivian stepped forward, ready to argue back.
Then, a sharp voice cut through.
“Why is everyone gathered here?”
At the kitchen entrance, Zygmunt appeared, his expression hard.
Surprised, they all turned to see him.
“Miss?”
He had been scolding the servants who had left their posts when he noticed Vivian standing off to the side in a dress completely unsuited for the kitchen.
Zygmunt let out a small chuckle at the sight.
He glared at Lady Mayfield with a baffled expression, and then his face hardened.
The arrow of his anger struck Lady Mayfield, standing right next to him.
Merian and the other maids couldn’t even lift their heads.
The once-noisy kitchen fell completely silent.
“Lady Mayfield, please explain what happened here.”
“Mr. Lindemann… well, it’s like this…”
“Why is the young lady in the kitchen?”
Zygmunt advanced step by step toward Lady Mayfield.
In his neat suit and gloves, he looked refined enough to pass as a noble.
Though he appeared younger than his age, he was extremely capable, having lived through countless experiences.
That’s why Leon had trusted him fully, giving Zygmunt authority over the estate.
As secretary, butler, and general manager, he was almost like a second master.
He even held some rights over the estate’s management—truly a powerful figure.
As Zygmunt loomed over Lady Mayfield again, she flinched.
“I asked to observe the cooking process. I begged for permission.”
“I see,” Vivian suddenly interjected between them.
“Yes. Is that such a serious wrongdoing?”
“Strictly speaking, this is Lady Mayfield’s fault,” Zygmunt said.
Vivian, blinded by hunger, had forgotten that her actions had put Lady Mayfield and the servants in a difficult position.
“The head maid has no authority to oppose the young mistress. It all happened because I insisted,” she added.
“Lady Mayfield has tarnished the Ester family’s reputation,” Zygmunt said, his hands folded neatly at his waist.
Startled, Lady Mayfield collapsed flat on the floor.
“I was wrong, Mr. Lindemann. I acted thoughtlessly.”
“It seems you were trying to help a young lady from abroad adjust to life at Labrique. And this is the result?”
“No, I should have stopped her somehow. I acted thoughtlessly.”
Lady Mayfield trembled on the floor.
Seeing her like that, Vivian felt a surge of pity.
She slipped between Lady Mayfield and Zygmunt.
“You’re about to marry the Grand Duke. Isn’t it strange that you can’t even enter the kitchen freely?”
“…In the Empire, it’s considered improper for a noble lady to enter the kitchen.”
“I was only checking on the household chores that I will soon manage.”
“You will not do anything, Miss. Even after the wedding.”
Ah. So this was what it meant to be a Grand Duchess who could do nothing.
Even though she was to become the Grand Duchess, she couldn’t even protect a maid who had sacrificed herself for her. It was maddening.
“Anyway, Lady Mayfield has done nothing wrong. So get up already.”
Vivian wondered how angry Zygmunt would be if he found out she had cooked as well.
Then Zygmunt suddenly addressed Merian.
“From today, for three days, Lady Mayfield will have no meals.”
What? No meals? How could that…
Vivian burst out protesting at his next words.
“That’s too harsh! How can a person go three days…”
Then she realized she herself had skipped more meals than that.
Her words caught in her throat.
“Miss, please return to the second floor. The Grand Duke has something important to tell you today.”
Zygmunt hastily ended the matter, and the servants dispersed to their positions.
Vivian followed, escorted by the slumped Lady Mayfield, up to the second-floor bedrooms.
Left in the kitchen were only the maids, head chef Merian, and Zygmunt.
“What’s all this?”
Zygmunt pointed at a shallow pot on the counter, and Merian tensed.
If he discovered that Vivian had cooked as well, it could bring trouble on her.
Merian forced a calm expression.
“It’s a newly developed dish, Mr. Lindemann.”
“A new dish? Good. May I taste it?”
“Of course.”
Merian scooped out what remained of Vivian’s dish—just enough for one person. Lucky or unlucky, it was still available.
Zygmunt slowly tasted a spoonful.
His eyes widened in surprise.
“Ah… this is excellent. How did you come up with such a dish?”
“Ah… I just tried to imitate a foreign dish for the young lady.”
“Very good. We must serve this to the Grand Duke as well.”
He set down the empty bowl and placed his own spoon next to the two spoons already beside the hot pot.
After fixing her clothes and hair, Vivian walked down the hallway and found Lady Mayfield looking dejected.
“Miss, I will guide you to the Grand Duke’s study. This way…”
Lady Mayfield’s hunched figure looked like a scolded child.
Vivian didn’t ask if she was okay; she silently followed.
As she walked behind her, Vivian pondered:
Could Lady Mayfield be the Duchy of Kihis’s spy?
Could she have been working with the Duke to harm the Grand Duchess?
Unlikely. Lady Mayfield had worked harder than anyone to feed Vivian safely—she wouldn’t poison her.
The real danger might come from Merian, indifferent servants, or those who subtly ignored Vivian.
Lady Mayfield is a good person.
In the original story, she was described as kind-hearted and gentle.
It was painful to see her caught in this.
Three days of fasting? Ridiculous.
But Lady Mayfield wouldn’t starve—Vivian had full access to the cold storage.
Vivian stepped in front of her as they walked.
“Miss?”
She lowered her voice, checking that no one else could hear.
“Lady Mayfield… could you come to my room tonight?”
