<b>Chapter </b><b>370 </b>
<b>Vincent </b>reflected on the slightly astringent taste of the soup he had sampled earlier. “<b>Indeed</b>, I may have been a bit heavy–handed with the lotus seed<b>. </b>Lesson learned for next- time,” Vincent said slowly, his tone even.
Mirabe nodded, her eyes then scanning the spread of dishes on the table before inquiring, “Did you whip up these dishes as well?”
“How do they taste?” Vincent probed further.
Mirabe gave a thumbs up, her smile bright. “You’ve got a real knack for cooking.”
Though the dishes weremon fare, and the recipes had be standardized, every chef brought their own touch to the vors. Vincent’s offerings, indeed, had a certain appealing zest to them.
Leo, who had been observing from the side, couldn’t help but smirk dismissively. “Talent in cooking,” he thought, “is that really something to boast about?” He conveniently forgot how he had enjoyed the meal just moments ago.
With his usual air of aloofness, Vincent felt a sense of pride at thepliment. In the Mendoza family’s younger generation, he was known to have a particr gift in the culinary arts. So, hearing Mirabe’s praise naturally stoked his ego. After all,
academically, he had long been outshone by the likes of her. It wasforting to know he excelled in another arena.
Soon after, Vincent excused himself with a brief, “Enjoy your meal. I won’t intrude any longer,” and departed without lingering.
Once Vincent had left, Leo turned back to Mirabe. “The guy sure carries himself with an
air of arrogance.”
Mirabe cast a sideways nce at her brother. “What do you expect from the top schr of our school year?”
Leo’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “The top of the ss, and he’s moonlighting as a chef?”
“Every job has its value,” Mirabe replied, returning her attention to her soup.
Leo touched his nose self–consciously. “Why do you always advocate for him?”
“Are you sure you’re not just picking on him?” Mirabe shot back, her gaze steady on her brother.
Leo averted his eyes, feigning innocence. “Me, picking on him? I’m just stating facts.”
Mirabe let the conversation drop, knowing that pushing further would only make Leo more defensive.
Critique of their grandfather’s newly developed medicinal recipe.
Vincent paused mid<b>–</b>chop, looking up <b>in </b>surprise. <b>“</b>You mean she’s been taste–<b>testing </b>Grandpa’s creations?<b>” </b>
<b>Nodding</b>, the steward borated on how everyone’s perception of perfection seemed to find its ws once it passed Mirabe’s lips.
Upon hearing that his grandfather had actually been pleased by her discerning pte, Vincent’s astonishment gave way to understanding. He realized the steward harbored some bias against Mirabe butughed it off, saying, “Well, it seems you still <b>don’t </b>quite grasp Grandpa’s temperament.”
Criticism was one thing, but constructive feedback that led to improvement was what truly caught his grandfather’s eye.
<b>It </b>dawned on Vincent that Mirabe must’ve possessed some knowledge of pharmacology; otherwise, his grandpa wouldn’t have extended an invitation to their home.
This realization was a humbling blow. Vincent had thought that despite falling short academically, he wouldn’t face another defeat in a different field. Yet, it was now clear that while being overshadowed was unlikely, recognizing the reality of his limitations was vividly outlined before him.