Chapter 310: Disaster Chef: Mansion Edition (part 1)
Micah woke up before Clyde. The faint afternoon light spilled across the heavy curtains, leaving a golden strip on the floor. For a moment, he just lay there, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Clyde’s bare chest. His hair had fallen messily over his forehead, making him look younger, softer. The blanket had slipped halfway down Clyde’s body, probably his own restless doing. Micah hesitated, then reached over and carefully tugged the blanket up, draping it over Clyde’s shoulder so the man wouldn’t catch a cold.
He lingered a moment longer, studying the peaceful expression Clyde wore in sleep. It seemed the man had been too exhausted. Well, yesterday was an eventful day, with all the drama they had, Clyde probably could not sleep soundly.
It was the first time Micah had seen him like this. So undefended. Without that sharp, intimidating gaze. More young man than flawless Patriarch. Micah’s fingers twitched, but he quickly pulled them back before the urge to brush Clyde’s hair away could win.
Slipping quietly out of bed, Micah walked out of the room. He eased the door shut behind him, wincing when the latch clicked louder than expected, and made his way down the stairs.
The kitchen was still spotless, as was the rest of the mansion. Before, Micah had been a total stranger to kitchens, but after living in a dorm, he had made his fair share of instant noodles.
He ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, "How hard can it be to make it a bit fancier, like with a fried egg?"
Pulling open the tall cabinets, he began searching for ingredients. Rows of glass jars and neatly arranged containers stared back at him, but there was no sign of store-bought ramen anywhere. His shoulders slumped.
Shutting the cabinet with a soft thud, Micah leaned against it and sighed. Alright... if no ramen, maybe delivery? But one glance at his phone reminded him that they were practically in a suburb, so far out that he had never set foot here before. Even if he ordered now, the chance of the food arriving before Clyde woke up was low.
Still, the thought of doing something for Clyde kept poking at him. It was always Clyde who cooked, elegantly, effortlessly. The least Micah could do was return the gesture, especially after knowing a small part of his past.
He opened his browser and searched: quick recipes for beginners. The results loaded, full of cheerful images and overly confident titles: Perfect Eggs Every Time, Pancakes in 10 Minutes!
Micah scrolled through them, but the ingredient list alone made his lip twitch in disbelief. Nope. Too many steps. Too much risk of starting a kitchen fire.
He knew his own capabilities. And cooking was not one of them.
He looked through his contacts. Asking his mum or anyone in the family was out of the question. They would want to know who he was cooking for, and that was a minefield of questions he didn’t want to step into after that disastrous moment on WeChat.
Friends... his first choice was Darcy. He hovered over the name, thumb hesitated midair. Then he scrolled down, Russell, Eddie, Nick, a handful of classmates... None of them was remotely helpful in the cooking department.
His thumb drifted toward Lin Heye’s name, but Micah dismissed it instantly. That would feel like announcing to the world that he and Clyde were...well, something. He flushed just thinking about it. Too embarrassing.
Eventually, his finger drifted back to Darcy. He opened their WeChat chatroom and stared at the last message. They hadn’t talked since smoothing things out about Clyde’s behaviour toward Darcy. It had been only a day, but it somehow felt like weeks.
He typed a quick message. Deleted it. Tried again. Felt that one too. His phone suddenly buzzed in his hand.
DescendantoftheDarkOne: ????
Micah let out a sigh and typed.
RogueOverlord: Hey...
DescendantoftheDarkOne: Come on, what is wrong? You’ve been typing for five minutes...
RogueOverlord: I want to cook...
DescendantoftheDarkOne: Absolutely not! Stay away from the stove! Have you forgotten you burned your hand?
Micah frowned at the screen.
RogueOverlord: But now I am so much better. I can cook Ramen in the dorm.
DescendantoftheDarkOne: There are a bunch of people around to help you.
RogueOverlord: Please, I am not that bad.
DescendantoftheDarkOne
: just order takeaway.RogueOverlord: I’m too far off for that...
There was a pause before Darcy’s next message appeared.
DescendantoftheDarkOne: Right. You said you are out of the city. Umm... video call me, and I’ll supervise you. I assume you are not alone so if things get out of hand...
RogueOverlord: Ahh, you are such a lifesaver.
Without wasting time, Micah hit the video call button.
Darcy’s face appeared, hair slightly dishevelled, shadows under his eyes.
Micah was taken aback. "What happened to you?"
Darcy ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back with a sigh. "I was up all night working."
"Working? What, Part-time jobs again?"
"No," Darcy gave a tired half-smile, "a project."
Micah’s frown deepened. "Oh... your professor is so abusive! Why make you work on weekends? Can’t you have a day off?" His voice rose slightly in indignation, as though he was about to march over and file a complaint himself.
Darcy chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Anyway, what’s up with your background? Why is it so fancy? I thought you were in a resort or something."
"Huh?" Micah glanced over his shoulder, then realised most of the grand dining hall was visible in the camera frame. "You mean here? I’m in Clyde’s family’s house." Micah blurted out innocently.
Darcy’s expression shifted in an instant, subtle but noticeable. "And there is not a housekeeper to cook?"
"Nope. It’s like a ghost house." His voice softened, almost muttering to himself. "I don’t like it anymore..."
He didn’t add the reason out loud, that knowing this place had been home to Clyde’s abuser made the air heavier somehow.
Darcy raised an eyebrow. "So why go there at all? You could’ve stayed at that apartment."
"I was excited to see the mysterious Du Pont mansion," Micah admitted with a shrug, then quickly waved the thought away. "That’s not important right now. Come on, help me. What can I cook ?"
Darcy stared at those eager eyes and gave in. "Show me what you have."
Micah switched to his rear camera and began opening the fridge. Then he moved to the pantry, opening and closing cabinets, grumbling under his breath, having no idea what most of them were used for.