Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 143: Dragon’s Kitchen

Bessa didn’t know how to feel.

Being hired by a dragon, and mind you, the Dragon Lord, no less, to produce batches of mysterious, highly classified potions was surreal enough.

But standing in his mountaintop aerie, watching three other dragons bicker and scramble in a fully-equipped magical kitchen that had just popped into existence from thin air? That was a special kind of bewildering.

The kitchen itself was whimsy. Stone countertops veined with glowing magic, hovering induction plates that hummed with contained heat, and utensils that moved with a life of their own. And in the middle of it, chaos.

"Huh? Why do you put rocks in it? Humans can’t process rocks!" boomed the one with dark green hair, pointing an accusatory finger at a bowl of coarse salt.

"These are not rocks! This is salt!" snapped the violet-eyed woman, her voice like cracking ice.

"It’s still a rock, it’s a mineral! And salt kills most organisms! Are you trying to poison the experiment?"

Just moments ago, Bessa decided she was done with today’s batch. The Dragon Lord and his ethereally beautiful mate, the Saintess, hadn’t given her a strict quota, but she liked to set one for herself.

After all, it maintained a semblance of normalcy. And right now, she desperately wanted to finish and go home to her quiet, predictable, non-draconic herb garden.

She turned, seeking a moment of sanity, and found it in the sight of Oathran himself, the one who’d hired her. He was seated a polite distance away on a stone bench, simply observing the culinary disaster unfolding. He was calm, but his presence was heavy.

"Miss Bessa," his voice, deep and resonant, cut through the squabble without raising in volume.

Bessa instantly straightened her spine, her professional demeanor snapping into place. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Are you done with your work today? Well done," he said. "Cecilia mentioned you prefer vegetable dishes in your diet, so I procured vegetable soup and a salad for you from the town, along with some rice and grilled fish. I hope you find it satisfactory."

A wave of relief washed over Bessa. For a terrifying moment, she’d thought the three squabbling dragons were attempting to cook something for her. Apparently, the Dragon Lord possessed both immense power and basic common sense, and had the courtesy to provide food made by actual human chefs.

But still... the fact that the Dragon Lord himself went to town to purchase her lunch... It struck her. But not for the first time.

On her initial trip here, she’d assumed a servant would handle such things. He was a lord, an ancient, mythic being. But no, she’d learned that he and his wife would personally go out and return in time to provide for her. It was bafflingly considerate.

Bessa, of course, had never been given a full tour of the castle. But she had a growing, strong suspicion that this majestic, empty fortress didn’t contain something as mundane as a kitchen.

So the sudden appearance of this magical cooking space, and the three dragons within it, was an even greater... mystery?

"The three of you," Oathran commanded. "Don’t be rude. Introduce yourselves to our esteemed alchemist."

The three dragons had, in fact, fallen silent the moment Oathran spoke, their argument freezing mid-sentence. They wouldn’t dream of interrupting him. But introducing themselves to a human alchemist clearly hadn’t been on their agenda.

Still, at the Lord’s expectation, they conceded with varying degrees of grace.

The woman with the light brown hair and striking violet eyes stepped forward first. "My name is Serayu."

Serayu! The dragon who claimed a small, storm-lashed island in the Sapphire Sea, surrounding it with perpetual tornadoes as both defense and decoration?

Serayu gestured to the man with shockingly bright blue hair and dark, assessing eyes. "This is Lazuardi."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Lazuardi said, offering a thin, not-unfriendly grin and a slight nod. "A loyal alchemist in the Lord’s service. Interesting."

Finally, Serayu jabbed a thumb toward the green-haired dragon who’d started the ’salt is a rock’ debate. "And this dumbass is Jenggala."

Jenggala just grunted, crossing his arms, apparently still sulking about the mineral controversy.

Bessa knew of Serayu’s reputation. The other two names, Lazuardi and Jenggala, though, were new to her.

But judging by their obvious, proud horns, the powerful tails that shifted restlessly behind them, and the sheer aura of contained might they exuded, she had no doubt they were each famous, or, well, infamous, in their own right, in corners of the world far removed from her quiet new life.

After they finished their introduction, Bessa bowed with the utmost respect, her posture rigid. "It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Bessa." She paused, then added, "I’m a farmer."

She had no desire to be seen as an alchemist. Not anymore. That title came with baggage she didn’t want to carry.

The three dragons’ eyebrows lifted in near-unison at her chosen identifier. Their gazes flicked to Oathran, and they came to understand. That was why their Lord had called her a ’loyal alchemist’.

It was because she wasn’t an alchemist. At least, not to herself.

"I like you," Jenggala blurted out, his earlier grumpiness vanishing into approval. "I will make you a new leg."

The words hit Bessa hard. She flinched, and the subtle, familiar creak of her prosthetic seemed deafening in the sudden silence as her weight shifted awkwardly.

Hearing the offer, Oathran let out a long, weary sigh. The sound alone made all three dragons flinch back as if scalded.

"Can. You. Not. Be. Rude?" Oathran’s voice was soft, each word a carefully placed stone.

Jenggala stuttered immediately, his confidence shattered. "B-but, my Lord! I-I was offering a blessing! A gift!"

"Did you ask her," Oathran said, rising to his feet with an unhurried grace that somehow magnified his displeasure, "whether she would like such a blessing? Humans are fragile, complex creatures. What we dragons might see as a blessing can be, to them, a curse. A violation."

Immediately, the three dragons dropped to their knees, heads bowed.

"I regret it, my Lord. Please forgive me," Jenggala whispered, his voice thick.

Oathran shook his head, a tired expression on his face. He’d summoned these three, thinking their varied experiences might yield some practical knowledge about human sustenance. Cooking! A subject he realized, with some chagrin, he knew embarrassingly little about.

He promised himself he would ask the people he knew. He just wanted to learn about cooking after he hunted for Cecilia for the first time, but this...

He hadn’t anticipated that their understanding of human sensibilities would be even more lacking than his own. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"I believe you know how to apologize to the offended party, not to me," Oathran stated. He then walked the few steps to where Bessa stood, frozen, and inclined his proud, horned head to her in a gesture of deep respect that made her stomach swoop.

"My apologies, Miss Bessa. These dragons may be older than me in years, but it seems they are centuries behind in basic consideration."

Ah.

Bessa wanted to just pass out. What was this? The Dragon Lord was apologizing to her? For another dragon’s offer of a magical new limb?!