Oleander stared at her again.
She hadn’t looked this startled earlier when he pinned her down. Now, faced with an ordinary meal, she stared like she had never seen food before. Was the memory loss that bad? His irritation started shifting into something closer to worry.
"Are you forgetting the names of food too?"
He stepped closer and tipped her chin up with one finger.
Jasmine swallowed and blinked once.
"No. I know the name."
"Then?"
She swallowed again. Her fingers tightened around the stainless steel box, holding back the irritation rising in her chest.
There was nothing wrong with the contents inside. Steamed baby potatoes. Half a roasted chicken. Two boiled eggs. Nutritious enough.
But—
She leaned in and sniffed the chicken. Her brow furrowed. Just a flat, greasy smell. No herbs. Nothing. She dragged a fingertip through the oil and confirmed it.
Bland.
It smelled like someone had tried to make nutrition and forgotten taste existed. In her kitchen, that was unforgivable.
She looked up at Oleander’s confused face, then back down at the food. Finding a simple answer felt harder than measuring a new recipe.
"I had a dream," she said finally.
"A dream? About food?" His tone was dry.
Jasmine nodded slowly. "I dreamed our food didn’t look like this. That’s why I was surprised."
"When did you dream that?"
"When I passed out in the ruins earlier. It felt too real. Like I was actually living in it."
Oleander flinched. His expression turned serious. Unusual dreams. But—
"You’re an E-Rank," he said. "Only S-Rank Guides have dreams that mean anything."
Jasmine raised both brows slightly.
She had only used the dream excuse to justify fixing this bland disaster. But maybe the information could keep him from deciding she was completely insane or talking nonsense.
"Can I show you?"
"Show me what?" He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.
Jasmine shook her leg, testing its strength. Once she was sure she could walk just fine, she stood from the bed, still holding the meal box, and set it on the low table near the sofa.
She turned in a slow circle, scanning the titanium walls. Every surface looked sealed. No obvious kitchen. Nothing useful in sight.
Her gaze landed back on Oleander, who was already busy with his BeepAir, fingers moving through the air.
"Don’t you have a kitchen?"
"No." His eyes stayed on the invisible screen. "Why would a Sentinel need a kitchen in his room?"
Jasmine’s mouth curved slightly to one side.
"Then do you have salt?"
"Of course. I’m rich. On your left side. Wave your hand at the wall with the white frame."
She walked over and did as instructed.
A section of the wall slid upward, revealing a vertical compartment lined with shelves. Bottles. Cans. Cold air drifted out. A fridge, basically.
She found a bottle labeled salt, then sugar. She searched for pepper, but there was none. Obviously, someone who didn’t cook wouldn’t keep it. She grabbed a bottle of milk as well and carried everything back to the table.
Then she started working.
Nothing fancy by her standards. Just the basics.
She peeled the still-warm potatoes quickly and mashed them with the fork from the box. She poured in a little milk, added a pinch of salt, and mixed until smooth. Then she pushed the mashed potatoes to one side of the box.
"What are you doing to the food?" Oleander had walked closer, frowning.
"Just wait." Jasmine didn’t look up. "It’s easier to show than explain."
Her hands moved smoothly to the next target as she shredded the roasted chicken into thin strips.
Jasmine paused.
She pursed her lips. The shredded chicken still had that rough, dry texture. They should have marinated it before roasting. At least then it would’ve stayed juicy.
What can fix it now?
Her eyes moved between the milk, salt, and sugar. Then they lit up. She turned back to the titanium fridge and came back with a bottle of honey and an empty glass.
It was better than sugar.
She poured a little milk, added honey, and stirred until it blended. Then, without hesitation, she scraped some of the mashed potato into the glass and mixed that in too.
Oleander watched, half amused. She moved fast, focused, almost bright in a way he hadn’t seen from her all day. It reminded him of the Jasmine he used to know. He just hadn’t expected food, of all things, to bring that look back. Apparently he now had to compete with a meal.
Jasmine added a bit of the leftover chicken fat into the mixture and stirred harder until it thickened into something close to a light gravy.
She tasted a drop from the tip of the knife and clicked her tongue.
Sweet. Savory. Smooth enough. Not heavy.
She poured it slowly over the shredded chicken. The honey and potato gave it a soft golden color. Then she diced the boiled eggs, scattered them on top, and finished with a light pinch of salt.
She straightened and held the box out to Oleander with a small smile.
"This is it. This is what I saw in my dream."
Oleander looked from her face to the completely transformed meal. Amused. Curious. The food almost looked deliberate now.
"Is this even edible?"
"It should be my meal," Jasmine said. "But you can try a little."
"Are you sure?" he muttered, already picking up a fork.
He scooped a bit of the chicken with sauce and egg, still doubtful, and put it in his mouth.
One chew. Two. Three.
Then he swallowed and went for another bite almost immediately. The dryness was gone. The meat was tender and gave way easily, while the sauce coated his tongue with a light sweetness that settled into something savory underneath. No flatness. No greasy aftertaste. Just a clean, balanced flavor that made him slow his chewing for a second before he swallowed.
"What is this?" he asked between bites. "It’s chicken, but—"
He couldn’t finish. His fork was already moving again.
Jasmine’s smile widened. She knew that look.
Then her smile faded as he kept going for more. She reached over and took the fork straight from his hand.
"It tastes better this way, right? Maybe my dream wasn’t empty after all."
She picked up the box, sat on the sofa, and started eating with quiet satisfaction.
Oleander didn’t answer. He was stunned.
Little did she know, a notification glowed on his BeepAir, one he couldn’t quite explain.
[Mental Energy +100]