Cook

Hazel ascended to the second floor, her expression neutral, betraying no hint of the pivotal mission she carried on her shoulders. Despite her seemingly nonchalant demeanor, the weight of her duty pressed on her, urging her to navigate the intricate web of information and secrets that surrounded Francisco.

As she strolled down the hallway, she approached Francisco's room, a calculated move that acknowledged the likelihood of being monitored. Hazel, aware of the surveillance apparatus that enveloped Francisco's world, maintained an air of casual observance.

Her footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor as she proceeded to her own room. Hazel, mindful of her surroundings, moved with deliberate precision. A minute passed, and she emerged from her room, a calculated maneuver intended to convey a sense of normalcy.

However, the path to Francisco's room proved inaccessible. The door remained locked, a testament to the fortress of privacy he maintained. Without Francisco's presence or the elusive code, Hazel couldn't breach the confines of his personal space.

Undeterred, Hazel descended the staircase, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategies and observations. The undercurrents of surveillance, whether through cameras or Francisco's watchful associates, added an extra layer of complexity to her mission.

'He asked me to cook for him.'

Hazel mused internally, her focus on fulfilling the immediate task at hand.

'First, I need to do what he wants, and then I will slowly do what I need to want.'

Hazel resolved, her thoughts a testament to her strategic approach.

As she stood before the kitchen, observing the maids diligently at work, one of them, operating with a robotic efficiency, stepped forward.

"Do you need anything, Ms.?" the maid inquired, her tone devoid of emotion.

Hazel, with a slight smile, responded, "Actually, Mr. Francisco told me to cook something for him."

The revelation hung in the air, a subtle ripple that disrupted the routine of the kitchen. The maids, momentarily ceasing their work, turned to face Hazel with a collective surprise etched on their faces. It was as if the very fabric of their structured world had momentarily shifted.

The unexpected request from their master, who typically maintained a regimented lifestyle, had caught them off guard.

Hazel, sensing the collective gaze fixed upon her, felt a twinge of surprise. In an attempt to defuse the tension, she offered an explanation, "He likes birds. Ah... I was thinking of looking at a recipe and cooking."

The maids exchanged perplexed glances, their well-trained composure momentarily disrupted by the unexpected revelation.

One of them couldn't conceal her disbelief as she asked, "Master told you he likes birds?" seeking confirmation from Hazel.

Hazel, with a slight nod, affirmed, "Yes."

A ripple of uncertainty passed among the maids as they exchanged narrow looks.

The notion that Francisco had a fondness for birds seemed to clash with their understanding of his preferences.

"We had never heard anything like it," one of the maids admitted, her expression revealing the perplexity of the situation.

"But he said he had a bird, and he likes to eat birds," Hazel added with a hint of hesitation, her attempt to reconcile the contradiction evident in her words.

The maids, bound by their routines and familiarity with Francisco's preferences, found themselves grappling with the unexpected twist in culinary expectations.

Doubts crept into Hazel's mind, questioning the authenticity of Francisco's directive.

'Did he joke with me?'

'I don't think he can joke so easily.'

"As long as we know, Master has no hobby for petting a bird, and neither have we made any dishes of birds," one of them asserted, her words reflecting a shared disbelief.

Hazel, grappling with the revelation that Francisco's preference for bird dishes might have been a jest, tightened her grip on the edge of her dress. A subtle wave of frustration washed over her thoughts.

'So, he really joked with me.'

She mused inwardly, processing the unexpected twist.

'But if he really did it, I need to do my job too, perfectly.'

Despite the lingering uncertainty, Hazel opted for a diplomatic approach. A broad smile played on her lips as she addressed the maids, attempting to salvage the situation.

"Okay, I think I misunderstood it. But he told me to cook something, so can I cook something for him?"

The maids exchanged glances, a silent acknowledgment of the complexity of their master's whims. After a brief deliberation, they relented.

"Okay!"

"Please, wear the apron and cook for Master," they agreed, stepping aside to make way for Hazel.

Hazel, quick to adapt to the circumstances, swiftly donned the apron.

She pondered her next move, acknowledging Francisco's culinary skills.

'So, as he really thought to joke with me, I needed to make something tasty.'

"What does Mr. Francisco like?"

"Our Master is not picky," one of the maids assured her.

"As long as it's healthy, he eats, and we strictly follow the diet for him."

Hazel, absorbing this information, nodded appreciatively. A light smile played on her lips as she contemplated her mission.

"Can I make pudding for him?"

Hazel proposed testing the waters with an unconventional choice.

"Pudding?" one of the maids echoed, a hint of surprise coloring her response.

"Did he ever try?"

Hazel, intrigued by the idea of introducing something new to Francisco's palate, considered the possibilities.

"We don't know because we have never made pudding."

"Okay, then I will it as I am not a good cook. I will do what I can do."

"But we can help," one of them offered, a gesture of support.

Hazel, however, declined assistance.

"But I don't need any help," she asserted, her focus fixed on the work at hand.

Amidst the exchange, Lily, a maid with years of experience in Francisco's service, observed the unfolding scenario. Finally, she spoke up, intervening with a tone of authority, "Girls, let her do her work."

Hazel's gaze met Lily's, and in that momentary exchange, a silent understanding passed through her. Lily's demanding voice, carrying the weight of experience and authority, resonated in the kitchen.

Hazel, perceptive and keen, recognized Lily as a formidable presence among the maids.

Lily, with a commanding tone, directed the proceedings.

"But keep in mind, don't put much sugar in the pudding," she instructed, her words carrying the weight of experience.

Hazel slightly nodded.

Everyone, let's continue our work. Ms. Hazel will make dessert for Master," Lily announced, her voice resonating with authority.

As the other maids resumed their work, Hazel took a moment to gather her thoughts.

'He doesn't like sweets.'

'If it is, then I should give him his best dessert.'

She set a bowl of milk on the stove, the anticipation building as the liquid began to simmer. The rhythmic beat of the blender filled the air as she worked on beating the eggs.

'What is he actually doing now?'

'I can't even ask for the code from any maids.'

'Because it seems they don't know, or if they knew, they would not give me, easily.'

'I am quite sure that it is really an important meeting for him.'

'I need to find that drive as soon as possible, by hook or crook.'

'If I need to pretend to seduce him, then I have to do it.'

'But he has a girlfriend and I clearly saw how disrespectful he was to Ms. Emily.'