A Warm Bowl Of Soup

Isabelle's eyes widened in shock as she heard her young master's order-defying words.

"Y-Young master!" She stammered, completely taken aback. "There's no way that can be allowed! I'm your servant, and you're my master. It wouldn't be proper!"

Cassius leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a smooth murmur. "Proper?" He repeated, his smile softening slightly. "You always talk about propriety, Isabelle. But don't you think you deserve to experience something different, something special for once?"

Isabelle froze, her mind racing as she processed his words.

In their world, such an offer was almost unthinkable. The dynamics were clear: the wife was subservient to the husband, the servant to the master.

For Cassius, her young master, to even suggest reversing that, to put himself in a position of servitude—even for a fleeting moment—was entirely outside the bounds of tradition.

Her chest tightened with a confusing mix of emotions.

On one hand, there was embarrassment. The idea of her young master feeding her felt far too intimate, far too indulgent. Yet, on the other hand, a strange warmth blossomed within her, a hesitant flutter that she couldn't quite define.

It was as though his words, unorthodox as they were, were quietly undoing some invisible barrier within her.

Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of her skirt as she lowered her gaze, unable to meet his.

'Why would he even suggest such a thing?' She wondered. 'Does he truly think of me as more than just a servant? Or is this just another one of his games?'

The very thought sent a flush creeping up her neck, and she bit her lip, conflicted.

"Young master." She began hesitantly, her voice wavering, "I…I don't understand. Why would you...Why would someone like you want to serve someone like me?"

Her question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of centuries of societal norms. And yet, beneath her confusion, a small part of her—a part she barely dared to acknowledge—felt an odd sense of delight, even yearning.

To be treated as someone worthy, someone seen as an equal, if only for a moment...It was a thought as terrifying as it was intoxicating.

Cassius leaned back slightly, his lips curling into a charming, almost lazy smile.

"If there really should be a reason." He began smoothly, his tone carrying a soft, teasing tone. "It's because a beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated special...Is that so hard to believe?"

Isabelle's breath stopped, her cheeks instantly flooding with warmth. She tried to dismiss his words as mere flattery, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made her heart stutter. She wiggled around in his lap as she stammered, "Y-Young master, you—"

But he didn't let her finish. "And besides..." He continued, as if her reaction was exactly what he'd expected, "...since you're the one who made this meal with your own hands, isn't it my duty, as a man, to serve you and watch that cute little face of yours indulge in it?"

Isabelle's eyes widened, her embarrassment deepening as his words sank in. He was shamelessly laying out his intentions, leaving her with no room to refute. Her mind spun with confusion and disbelief.

"You can't mean that." She managed, her voice trembling. "I'm just your servant, young master. It wouldn't be proper for you to—"

"Proper?" He interrupted with a chuckle, leaning forward slightly. "Who cares about what's proper? I'm more interested in what's fair...You cooked; I serve. Simple logic, isn't it?" His expression softened as he tilted his head, meeting her gaze. "Unless…You really don't want me to."

Isabelle's eyes widened at his words, and she immediately shook her head, her voice rushing out before she could think.

"No, young master! I would love to be fed by you personally, and it would be my greatest joy!...I mean, it—it would be an honour to be fed by you!" Her cheeks burned crimson as she realized what she had just said, but there was no taking it back now. She clasped her hands together nervously, unable to meet his gaze as she said, "I wouldn't dare reject such a k-kind gesture from you."

Cassius's smile widened, clearly pleased by her reaction.

"Well, well, Isabelle. I didn't expect you to agree so quickly...Here I thought I'd have to persuade you a little more." He said, his tone dripping with amusement.

Isabelle fidgeted in her seat, her ears turning a bright shade of red.

"No, I just…I didn't mean to-" She paused, flustered, then let out a small sigh. "It's just no one has ever offered me something like this before, young master...Especially not someone like you, and I genuinely don't know how to react because of my inexperience." Her voice softened as she spoke, her heart thudding in her chest as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

Cassius relaxed himself, the playful grin still tugging at his lips.

"No need to overthink it, Isabelle." He said smoothly, realising how lost and confused Isabelle was at the moment. "Just enjoy the moment for what it is."

Isabelle also understood that her young master was trying to calm her down in a thoughtful manner, which made her heart feel warmer than it already was in his presence.

"Now, tell me, my darling maid, which dish would you like to start with?" His gaze flicked briefly over the table before he returned his attention to her.

Isabelle hesitated, her eyes darting over the spread of food. Finally, she pointed shyly to a small bowl of creamy soup.

"That one, young master." She said softly, her tone almost unsure.

Cassius tilted his head curiously as he picked up the bowl and spoon and asked,

"The soup, huh? Any particular reason why, since I haven't ever seen anyone choose soup with such excitement?"

Isabelle bit her lip, her hands nervously fiddling with her apron as she thought about how to answer. After a brief pause, she gave a small, embarrassed smile.

"When I was a child, my mother used to make a similar soup on rainy days." She began, her voice gaining a bit of warmth as she spoke. "I always thought it was magic because no matter how gloomy the weather was, the soup made me feel warm and happy...Once, I even told her that the soup had to be made by angels since it was too good for humans to make!" She chuckled softly, her cheeks pink with both fondness and embarrassment. "I guess that's why I've always liked it...It reminds me of those simple, happy moments...Those moments of the distant past."

"...Ah! I'm sorry, young master!"

Realising she had been rambling, Isabelle quickly dropped her gaze.

"That was probably boring for you to hear."

Cassius shook his head firmly, a rare sincerity softening his features.

"Not at all, Isabelle. In fact, I'd happily listen to a hundred more of your stories if it meant hearing them in your charming voice."

Without waiting for her to respond, he dipped the spoon into the soup and brought it toward her lips as he said,

"Now, let's see if this soup lives up to your angelic memories."

Isabelle's ears turned red as she opened her mouth, letting him feed her the spoonful of soup. The warmth and taste of it were comforting, but the act itself—being cared for so tenderly—was almost overwhelming.

She let herself relax into the moment, allowing her young master to coddle her. A small, contented smile crept onto her lips as she savoured the soup and the uncharacteristic gentleness in his actions.

"How is it?" Cassius asked, watching her reaction with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"Delicious." Isabelle whispered, her voice soft but genuine. For once, she let herself enjoy the rare delight of being pampered, her heart fluttering in a way she couldn't quite explain.

Cassius smirked as he set the bowl down for a moment.

"You know, Isabelle, it wouldn't really be fair for you to judge the dish." He said, swirling the spoon in the soup. "After all, you're the chef...A little biased, wouldn't you say?"

Before she could respond, he brought the spoon to his lips and took a sip himself.

Isabelle's eyes widened as her mind immediately fixated on the spoon. 'He's using the same spoon.' Her cheeks flushed at the intimate thought, her heart beating faster as she stared at him, waiting for his reaction.

The moment the soup hit Cassius's tongue, his eyes lit up—not with their usual mischievous glint, but with genuine, unrestrained delight. He sat upright, his free hand slapping the table as he let out an exuberant shout.

"Damn, Isabelle!" He exclaimed, his voice loud and filled with excitement. "This…This is incredible!"

Isabelle jumped at his outburst, startled by his sudden break in composure.

"Y-Young master?" She stammered, unsure of what to make of his overwhelming reaction.

Cassius turned to her, his usual calm demeanour completely gone as he launched into an animated stream of praise.

"This is amazing, Isabelle! The flavour is rich, the texture is perfect—it's like a warm hug in liquid form! Isabelle, you've outdone yourself! You've completely outdone yourself!" He leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically open and full of awe. "This isn't just food; it's art! You've managed to make something so comforting, so full of heart—how do you even do it?"

Isabelle stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. She'd never seen him like this before. His genuine, unfiltered enthusiasm was such a stark contrast to his usual teasing or calculated charm.

It was raw and sincere, and it made her heart swell...