Jasmine sighed repeatedly as she sat on the edge of the examination room bed, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes remained fixed on the large bowl of raw milk sitting on the table in front of her. A thick layer of cream had already formed across the surface, floating like a pale sheet.
She hadn’t intended to spend half an hour waiting after the raw milk arrived with a stove, a pot, lemons, and several boxes of ration food. She’d already shredded the roasted chicken herself while waiting.
The delay was mostly because Jasmine had asked them to prepare pepper and coriander. Unfortunately, both spices had run out at the only shop that sold seasonings in the capital district, so someone had to travel outside the district to buy them.
That wasn’t the only reason Jasmine kept sighing in disbelief.
Some spices and aromatic ingredients, such as onions, were apparently extremely rare in Hesperia and required special orders that cost a fortune. In the end, Jasmine had no choice but to settle for the basics.
"Why is it taking him so long? How far away is the place if even teleportation takes half an hour?" Jasmine asked irritably.
Professor Hatthon gulped.
An S-Rank Sentinel would normally only use his superpower during dangerous missions. Yet here, Jasmine had casually asked Oleander to teleport somewhere and fetch rare spices for her.
Even more surprising, Oleander had casually agreed.
The professor couldn’t help wondering if Jasmine’s food was really that good. Good enough to make an S-Rank Sentinel willingly sacrifice himself for ingredients, apparently.
"The place where the pepper and coriander are currently located has C-Rank pollutants," he explained. "He may have encountered some obstacles and needed to clear them first."
"Isn’t he the strongest? C-Rank should be easy for him, right?" Jasmine asked plainly.
"Nothing is easy for a Sentinel whose Guide is already dead, you know," Robbin said sarcastically.
Professor Hatthon immediately shot him a warning look and raised his index finger to his lips.
Jasmine’s chest tightened.
For a moment, she wondered if she should have simply given up on the spices when she’d heard they were unavailable in the capital.
She sighed, then stood and walked toward the table. Bending over the bowl, she studied the thick layer of cream floating on the milk.
I should tell him to bring a Guide with him next time so he can move faster.
She paused.
And bring more spices while he’s at it.
Jasmine nodded to herself.
Yeah. Next time, he needs to go with more people.
She picked up a wooden spatula and gently skimmed the layer of cream from the surface, transferring it into a small empty bowl.
She stirred the milk slowly, then skimmed another layer. She repeated the process until the milk was free of the thick layer floating on top.
A faint smile tugged at her lips when she noticed all the professors watching her.
"I agree that ultra-processed food is frightening. But that doesn’t mean you should always eat flavorless food." Jasmine glanced at them. "Even raw ingredients can have different flavors if you handle them properly."
She was responding to their earlier explanation of why people in Hesperia had grown accustomed to eating bland whole foods.
Salt was expensive, spices were rare, and strong flavors had become associated with ultra-processed food, which they believed had contributed to the Doomsday.
The professors fell silent.
Two of the five still looked skeptical, their attention fixed on the monitors displaying Jasmine’s data. Two cables connected to patches at the back of her neck, continuously monitoring her neural activity.
Jasmine poured the skimmed milk into a pot and turned on the stove. She stirred constantly, humming softly under her breath.
"Can you help me stir it? If the milk splits, it won’t taste good," Jasmine said to Professor Hatthon.
The professor blinked.
Something about the request seemed strange to him. But the moment Jasmine mentioned that the milk might not taste good, he obediently took the wooden spatula from her.
The younger professors exchanged awkward glances.
Professor Hatthon ignored them. He kept stirring the milk carefully, following Jasmine’s movements as precisely as he could.
After several minutes, Jasmine checked the temperature and immediately turned off the stove before the milk could come to a full boil. She lifted the pot off the heat and placed it on the table.
Still stirring, she slowly poured in a cup of freshly squeezed lemon juice.
She continued stirring for another forty seconds.
"Are we going to drink it?" the middle-aged female professor asked.
"I’ve never tasted sour milk before. I hate lemons," another professor commented.
"Nope. We’re going to wait." Jasmine smiled proudly. "Then we’re going to eat it."
She covered the pot and left it to sit for thirty minutes.
By the time the waiting was over, Jasmine was nearly bored to death listening to the professors discuss her assessment graphs.
Finally, she lifted the lid.
Her eyes immediately lit up.
Small white curds had formed across the surface, floating in the pale yellow whey. Jasmine leaned closer and inhaled.
A mild, tangy, milky aroma rose from the pot, with a faint buttery richness underneath.
"Perfect," she murmured.
"It smells pretty nice, but can we really eat it?" Professor Hatthon asked skeptically.
Jasmine ignored his doubt and began scooping the white curds from the pot, placing them onto a cloth strainer.
She let the remaining whey drain through the fabric before gathering the cloth and gently squeezing out the excess liquid.
After letting the curds rest for another fifteen minutes, she transferred them into a bowl.
She added a pinch of salt, then mashed the soft white curds with a fork until they broke apart into a loose, scrambled texture.
Jasmine picked up a plate and arranged the shredded chicken first.
She placed the mashed potatoes beside it, then added the scrambled boiled eggs on top.
Finally, she spooned the cottage cheese over the chicken.
There wasn’t much garnish to work with, but Jasmine still looked quietly satisfied with her plate of shredded chicken and cottage cheese.
"Whoa... When she was squeezing and crushing everything, I thought she’d completely lost her mind," the young female professor admitted. "But now that I see the final presentation, it actually looks really appetizing."
"Appetizing?" Robbin scoffed. "It looks like someone dropped the plate during an earthquake."
A loud growl rumbled from his stomach.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Robbin immediately looked away.
Jasmine smirked.
She prepared a second plate, then a third, and kept going until seven portions were ready.
"Can we eat now?" the middle-aged female professor asked, practically drooling.
Jasmine pursed her lips to one side.
No. The answer was still no.
She needed to sprinkle the pepper and coriander over the dish first. Without them, it wasn’t complete.
"Why hasn’t Oleander come back yet?" she asked, her voice noticeably softer than before.
Her mind had been drifting toward him ever since she’d started stirring the milk and lemon juice.
"Can we just taste it first? Just a little?" the woman pleaded, swallowing repeatedly as her eyes remained glued to the nearest plate.
"Yes, you can. But the spices will make it even—"
Jasmine didn’t get to finish.
The woman immediately scooped a spoonful into her mouth.
For a moment, the short-haired brunette simply closed her eyes and savored the unfamiliar richness spreading across her tongue.
The flavor was strange to her.
And yet, it made her taste buds feel alive.
It was as though every part of her tongue had been gently awakened at once, leaving her completely unwilling to stop after a single bite.
The other professors quickly followed.
One bite became two. Two became three.
Even Robbin started shoveling food into his mouth without daring to look at Jasmine.
None of them spoke.
They simply kept eating, one bite after another, as if hypnotized.
Professor Hatthon wasn’t any better. By the time he finished half his plate, a tear had gathered at the corner of his eye.
They had completely forgotten that they were supposed to be observing Jasmine.
At this point, their plates were far more interesting than their monitors.
Jasmine could only let out an amused scoff.
A translucent blue screen suddenly appeared in front of her.
[Guide Resonance Increased: +25 GR × 5.]
[Current Guide Resonance: 125/10,000.]
[Chef God’s Assessment: A modest beginning. Your current progress is acceptable. Your remaining workload is not.]
Jasmine’s lips twitched.
The system updated again.
[Recommendation: Continue feeding living beings.]
[They appear surprisingly cooperative when food is involved.]
Jasmine looked at the increasing number and felt a little more at ease.
At least Chef God hadn’t lied to her about the system’s rewards.
Still, she couldn’t fully enjoy her progress.
Something had been bothering her for a while now.
Why the hell was Oleander taking so long?
Several more minutes passed with the professors still immersed in their foodgasm when a sudden gust of wind swept through the room.
Thud.
Oleander appeared in front of Jasmine.
He was breathing heavily, one hand gripping a cloth-wrapped bundle. His knees gave out almost immediately, and he dropped into a kneeling position.
"Oh God, Oleander! Are you all right?" Professor Hatthon rushed over and helped him into a chair.
Oleander seemed barely aware of what was happening. Still breathless, he raised the hand holding the bundle.
"Bring the scanner," Professor Hatthon ordered.
Robbin hurried over, grabbed a black box that looked suspiciously like a remote control, and handed it to him.
Jasmine slowly approached the table where the bundle had been placed.
She opened it.
Her lips pressed into a thin line when she saw the bottles of pepper and coriander nestled inside.
Then she looked toward Oleander.
He was still struggling to breathe.
Jasmine took a hesitant step toward him, then stopped.
She wasn’t sure whether she could actually help him or would only become another burden.
"His mental corruption is at thirty percent," Professor Hatthon said as he examined the scanner. "But strangely, his mental energy keeps dropping while he’s struggling to breathe. He needs a Guide."
"But most S-Rank Guides are out of reach right now," another professor said. "They’re already rare enough as it is."
"An A or B-Rank Guide would do. They could take turns guiding him temporarily."
"What about entering his spiritual realm?" Jasmine asked innocently.
The room froze.
Every head turned toward her.
The look in their eyes seemed to say the same thing.
Please don’t tell me you have another crazy idea.
"That can only be done by a Guide on the same level as the Sentinel," the female professor explained carefully.
Jasmine took another step toward Oleander.
"Well, part of me is still S-Rank, right?"
Oleander remained slumped in the chair, his expression blank as he struggled for every breath.
"But your mental energy is nowhere near S-Rank," the professor warned. "It would practically be suicide."
Jasmine ignored the warning.
Challenges were practically her everyday snack.
She had never kissed anyone before. She had only ever seen people do it.
So when she finally reached Oleander, her hand hesitantly grazed his jaw before her fingers slipped behind his head and tangled gently into his hair.
She leaned closer.
I wonder if my Divine Kiss really tastes like an apple.