Chapter 660: Potato Diplomacy
Eyes refocused as Elder Shen proudly fished out a single potato slice that had been buried deep beneath the pile of food they had tossed in earlier.
It had been sitting there for a while, soaking up the bubbling red broth, and now, as steam curled from it, the humble potato gleamed like a jewel.
Elder Shen blew on it carefully and popped it into his mouth.
And then he froze.
Potatoes—yes, he had eaten them many times before. Roasted, mashed, even stewed. But this? This was something else entirely. Spicy, soft, bursting with flavor, the heat and richness of the broth had transformed the ordinary into the divine.
His eyes rolled slightly, his shoulders sagged, and for one delirious moment, Elder Shen looked as if he was about to ascend once again.
"Elder Shen!" cried one of the other elders.
"Unforgivable! I was the one who put that potato in!"
"Nonsense, it was me!"
"How dare you steal what was rightfully mine!"
Laughter erupted around the table as the three identical elders bickered furiously over ownership of a potato slice. Meanwhile, Elder Pao Xi quietly leaned back, pretending not to be involved, and with impeccable timing, tossed a whole handful of new potato slices into their pot, as if feeding the chaos on purpose.
"..."
Uno stared blankly at the spectacle, his eyes darting from one elder to the next, still unsure of who was who. But to him, what was now important was how the fourth elder started putting in more of the same thing. So obviously, he had to do something!
The rest of the room dissolved into laughter once again, and like Uno, a few even decided to imitate them. Soon, others were carefully waiting to fish out potatoes, timing themselves with exaggerated seriousness, only to realize they would take forever.
But while everyone laughed, two cadets had more serious expressions as they poked their chopsticks into the broth. They, too, were pulling up things they had apparently left to simmer for quite a while.
The Imperial Prince, however, had gone one step further.
Rather than trust luck or timing, he had quietly recruited the help of his guardian mecha, instructing it to scan the temperature readings of the broth. Every degree was monitored, every dip carefully calculated. Only when the data confirmed perfection did he move.
And then, with calm precision, he fished out not one but several items—potato slices, dumplings, and even round fish balls—each perfectly cooked and prepared early into the start of their dinner. And now he was just reaping the benefits of advanced preparations.
"!!!"
The entire room fell silent, jaws slack as if he had just performed a miracle.
But what truly gripped their throats was when the Imperial Prince carefully placed a giant portion of food into Luca’s bowl.
The little chipmunk blinked in surprise, his golden eyes widening as though the heavens themselves had parted for him.
The rest of the food, Xavier divided into five smaller plates, though two of them clearly held much more.
Soundlessly, Xavier set one plate in front of his little sister. Princess Nina clutched it with both hands, staring down at the assortment as if she had been handed treasure straight from the vaults of Solaris.
The prince then placed another plate in front of the Empress and Emperor, who stiffened at the unexpected gesture. Next, he handed one to the Duchess and the stunned Duke Leander. The fourth plate went to Marshal Julian, and the final plate he left for himself, eating without any flourish, as if none of it were remarkable.
But to everyone else, it was like watching the birth of a new planet.
Luca’s face glowed red as he watched. His chopsticks hovered against his lips before he whispered, "Thank you, Xavier."
The Empress, meanwhile, nearly cried. She wanted to preserve the food her son had given her, but the steaming aroma forced her hand. She trembled as she lifted her utensils. When else would she ever eat something her son had personally set aside for her? Even her daughter, who had always wanted more interactions with his brother, was overwhelmed. Their utensils shook as they tried to partake in the unexpected gift.
Thanks rippled around the table. Even Duke Leander puffed up smugly as he leaned towards the direction of Butler Gary and Steward Han, showing off his portion with potatoes nestled inside, which meant he wouldn’t have to wait to taste it.
But his smug provocation struck Ollie instead. The blonde’s eyes trembled, his hair antenna twitching violently, as desire flooded him. He wanted to taste it too. Desperately.
His gaze slid sideways—only to see Kyle.
Kyle, who had a full serving plate of the same exact treasures. Kyle, who was calmly setting half of it into Ollie’s bowl, and then dividing the rest between Marquis Mylor, Marquise Julienne, and a bit for Killian, who looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"What?! How?" Ollie gaped, staring at the perfectly cooked food that smelled heavenly.
"I’ve been his adjutant since I could count," Kyle replied smoothly, glancing at his stunned blond. "If the Captain does something deliberate, like choosing particular things from a spread this large, there’s a reason. So the best thing to do is follow. And if I do it exactly when he does it, I’ll know exactly when it’s cooked."
He grinned, boyish and unbothered, as though it were the simplest logic in the world. "Trust my boss not to waste ingredients Luca had a hand in preparing."
"!!!"
Ollie’s eyes glazed over. Suddenly, it was as if his Kyle were glowing, bathed in light only he could see. The effect doubled when Kyle stuffed a potato slice into his mouth and said, "There, you can taste it like the others."
The flavor exploded across Ollie’s tongue. His soul left his body for a moment before slamming back into place.
His Kyle really was the best!
On the side, Princess Kira sighed as she slipped another slice of meat into her mouth. Really, it was her mistake for not figuring it out earlier. Now she would have to wait to experience the famed potato, and her heart ached as though she had missed the last star in the sky.
The scenes unfolding around the table were heartwarming for some, provoking for others, depending on whose eyes lingered on them.
And while most sighed or murmured over the spectacle, two men who had awkwardly received portions simply because of blood relations exchanged glances. Pleading eyes from those around them weighed heavily, and if they did not speak, they risked drowning under the atmosphere.
So Marshal Julian cleared his throat lightly, turning to Killian, who sat nearby. "It seems every item required considerable effort?"
Killian nodded gravely. "Yes, Marshal. For one, we often say ’meat’ as if it were all the same, but beef and pork are raised differently and yield distinct products. Even the eggs—those are from chickens, and every single one was a victory pulled back from what could have been an uprising."
The Marshal blinked, his chopsticks paused in midair.
Killian went on. "If we’re really getting into everything, even the containers used were made because Luca specifically asked Cece to craft them. And the word pot in hotpot? That only became real because of those requests."
He pointed toward another plate with grim seriousness. "And I once saw how noodles were made. With that memory alone, I can say there better be no leftovers. Do you know how complicated that was?"
Marshal Julian wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by noodles, since he had not yet tried them, but Killian looked so serious that he dared not interrupt.
Killian pressed on. "Even the ingredients for the dipping sauces, and the things we’ve only just been introduced to today, all of it was likely secured in exchange for corruption—the very thing we’ve all resented for so long."
His voice faltered for a moment. His face reflected a strange mixture of disbelief and gratitude. Even now, despite living among them long enough to understand the cadets’ work, Killian sometimes thought he was dreaming.
If not for the grueling responsibilities tied to keeping things from blowing up in their faces, he might have convinced himself it was only a story in his head.
Across the table, Uno stiffened. The word corruption alone was enough to tighten his chest. They had been told the gist of it, yes, but imagining it was one thing. Seeing it with his own eyes would be another.
They had promised to show them after dinner.
But Uno’s lips pressed tight. How could anyone want dinner to end when eating like this felt like something he could do forever?