Demonic Dragon: Harem System-Chapter 770: Strax... knows how to cook.

Monica crossed her arms the moment Strax entered the mansion's kitchen.

It wasn't an ordinary kitchen.

It was spacious, designed to serve dozens if necessary, with enchanted stone countertops, runic stoves, and utensils organized with almost military precision. A space designed for efficiency… not for improvisation.

"No," she said categorically. "No, that's impossible."

Strax was already rolling up his shirt sleeves, completely at ease.

"You say that as if I just said I'm going to summon a dragon with a spoon," he replied, laughing.

"I've known you for years," Monica retorted, following him closely as if to prevent an imminent disaster. "Years, Strax. I've seen you destroy many things, kill many people. But cook? No. That's a lie."

He opened one of the cabinets and began examining the available ingredients.

"See?" he said casually. "That's exactly why you never let me cook."

"Because you've never cooked!" she retorted. "And because people like you don't… do it."

Strax cast an amused glance over his shoulder.

"'People like me' do exactly that when they need to keep an army alive for months in hostile territory," he said. "Or when they want to ensure someone survives."

Monica frowned.

"Wait." She pointed an accusing finger. "Are you serious?"

He smirked. "Stay and find out."

She huffed, but didn't leave.

Instead, she leaned against a nearby column, clearly determined to watch the disaster… or the trick.

Strax began methodically.

First, he selected the magical meat. It was from a medium-sized beast, rich in mana, but dangerous if poorly prepared. He analyzed the texture, the subtle glow of the still-latent energy, and nodded to himself.

"This one will do," he murmured. "Do you really know what you're doing?" Monica asked, incredulous. "This meat could cause arcane overload if cooked wrong."

"I know," he replied, picking up a knife. "That's why it won't be roasted or grilled. It'll become broth."

The first cut was precise.

There was no hesitation. No excessive force.

The blade slid as if obeying an invisible map. He separated fibers, removed denser parts of mana, discarded specific glands without even consulting a manual.

Monica slowly uncrossed her arms.

"…okay," she murmured. "That was lucky."

Strax laughed. "Of course."

He put water in a large pot and activated the runic stove at the lowest possible level.

"The mistake everyone makes," he explained, now adopting an almost didactic tone, "is thinking that more heat speeds up the process. With magical meat, that only releases the mana all at once." The body can't take it.

He added the meat slowly, watching the water react, small waves of energy being absorbed by the runes in the pot.

Monica moved a little closer.

"This pot…" she began.

"I had it made," he finished. "For long campaigns. It dissipates excess mana without destroying nutritional value."

She blinked.

"You… thought of that?"

"I think of many things," he replied simply.

As the broth began to take on color, Strax moved on to the seasonings.

Nothing extravagant.

Mild roots, stabilizing herbs, a little arcane mineral salt—enough to help the body absorb energy without shock.

"Nothing spicy," he commented. "Her system is fragile."

Monica opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"You're cooking… like a campaign healer."

"Because that's exactly what I'm doing."

He stirred the broth patiently, observing, feeling. Not just with his eyes, but with magical perception. He adjusted the flame in minute fractions, like someone tuning an instrument.

Monica remained silent for long minutes.

Until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Since when have you known how to do this?"

Strax didn't answer immediately.

He covered the pot, lowered the heat even more, and only then spoke:

"Since I learned that power is useless if the people around you die before you win."

She swallowed hard.

He picked up a second pot and began a simple side dish—vegetables slowly steamed to preserve texture and nutrients.

"This here" he explained "is for when the body starts to accept something solid. Nothing heavy."

"You planned everything" Monica murmured.

"No" he corrected. "I learned. Planning comes later."

She watched his every move now with almost reverent attention.

His gestures were confident, economical. There was no arrogance. Only competence.

"I… I've never seen you like this," she admitted.

Strax smiled slightly.

"Because almost no one pays attention to that side of you."

The aroma began to spread through the kitchen.

It wasn't strong.

It was comforting.

Something reminiscent of shelter.

Monica realized too late that she was holding her breath.

"This… smells good," she said reluctantly.

"It'll get even better," he replied.

He tasted the broth, closed his eyes for a second, and adjusted a tiny detail—an extra herb, which he removed immediately afterward.

"Perfect."

Monica's eyes widened.

"You just… tasted magic meat in its raw broth state. Unprotected."

"I know what my body can handle," he said, shrugging.

She laughed nervously.

"You're absurd."

"And you're still here watching."

"Because I can't believe what I'm seeing," she replied honestly.

He turned off the heat.

"Done."

"Done?" she repeated. "That's all?"

"What does she need it for now? Yes."

He began carefully pouring the broth into a special bowl, keeping the temperature stable. Then, he placed the vegetables on a separate plate.

Monica approached the counter, examining everything as if it were a rare artifact.

"If this works…" she began.

"It will work" he interrupted calmly.

She looked up at him.

"You have no idea how much this changes things, do you?"

Strax thought for a moment.

"I have an idea" he replied. "But it's not about me."

He carefully picked up the tray.

"Let's go."

Monica was still processing when Strax left the kitchen with the tray in his hands.

There was no hurry in his steps. No theatrical urgency. It was the same controlled pace he used before an important battle — not the pace of someone rushing to win, but the pace of someone who knows exactly what needs to be done.

She followed him down the mansion's wide hallway, the sound of her own footsteps echoing too softly to break the mood.

"I still think this is some kind of trick," Monica murmured, more to herself than to him.

"If it were a trick, I'd have an audience," Strax replied without looking back.

They reached the bedroom door.

Strax knocked once, lightly, before entering.

The room was bathed in a soft late-morning light. The curtains filtered the sun, scattering golden hues across the polished wooden floor. Nhyara sat on the bed, propped up by pillows, her hair still damp from the bath a maid had helped her give. She wore simple clothes, too loose for her slender body—clearly borrowed—but clean and soft.

She looked up immediately when the door opened.

The smell arrived before the sight.

The aroma of the broth made her eyes widen slightly, almost unconsciously. Her body reacted before her mind could stop it.

Strax noticed.

"Good morning," he said softly, approaching. "How are you feeling?"

Nhyara took a second to answer.

"Strange," she confessed. "Light… and tired."

"That's expected," he replied. "But this will help."

He placed the tray on the small table beside the bed.

Monica watched everything in silence now.

Nhyara looked at the bowl as if it were something too fragile to exist.

"This… is for me?" she asked, almost insecure.

"Yes," Strax replied. "Broth first. Slowly."

She swallowed hard.

"I… I can eat by myself," she said quickly, as if defending herself against an unseen accusation.

Strax nodded.

"Of course. There's no rush."

He stepped back a pace, making room, while Monica remained leaning against the door, her arms now uncrossed, her expression unreadable.

Nhyara picked up the spoon with excessive care, as if expecting someone to reprimand her for it. She plunged it into the broth, watching the golden surface tremble slightly.

The first sip was hesitant.

The second… less so.

On the third, her body truly reacted.

Her shoulders, always tense, loosened slightly. Her breathing slowed. The pale color of her skin gained an almost imperceptible hue of life.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"It's… warm," she murmured.

"It's supposed to be," Strax replied. "It helps with absorption."

Monica felt a strange shiver.

It wasn't magic.

It was care.

Nhyara continued eating slowly, obeying her own rhythm. There was no gluttony—just a need met for the first time in a long time.

After a few minutes, she stopped, resting her spoon on the edge of the bowl.

"My chest…" she said, lightly touching her sternum. "It doesn't hurt so much."

Strax observed attentively, assessing invisible signs.

"The mana is distributing," he explained. "Without shock."

She nodded, absorbing not only the broth but the words.

Monica finally spoke.

"Did you notice?" she asked, looking at Strax.

"Yes," he replied.

"In less than ten minutes."

He tilted his head.

"It was expected."

Monica let out a low, incredulous laugh.

"I've spent years organizing supply routes, dealing with healers, alchemists… and you just walk into the kitchen and solve it."

"I didn't solve it," Strax corrected. "I started the process right."

Nhyara looked from one to the other, confused.

"Am I… doing something wrong?" she asked, immediately alert.

"No," they both said at the same time.

She blinked.

Strax softened his tone.

"You're doing very well."

That was enough to make her lower her gaze, embarrassed again.

"Can I… continue later?" she asked. "I feel sleepy."

"You should," he replied. "Your body will demand rest now."

He gestured to Monica, who approached and helped adjust the cushions with surprising delicacy.

"I'll leave this here," Strax said, pointing to the plate of vegetables. "Only try it when you feel like it. If you don't feel like it, don't force it."

"Okay…" Nhyara replied, already struggling to keep her eyes open.

Strax turned to leave.

"Strax?" she called suddenly.

He stopped at the door and looked back.

"Thank you," she said. The word came out firmer this time. "For… everything."

He held her gaze for a second longer than necessary.

"Rest."

When the door closed softly behind them, Monica released the breath she had been holding since the kitchen.

"I take back everything I said," she stated finally. "Everything."

Strax raised an eyebrow.

"Everything?"

"Almost everything," she corrected. "It's still strange to see you… like this."

They walked down the hall in silence for a few steps. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"You know what's worse?" Monica continued. "It's not that you know how to cook."

"Oh, really?"

"It's that you know exactly when to do it," she said, glancing sideways at him. "And that… is much more dangerous."

Strax chuckled softly.

"Good thing you're on my side, then."

She shook her head, a half-smile appearing despite herself.

"I'll have to update my reports on you," she said. "Capable of feeding armies. And shattering expectations."

"Finally, an honest report."

They walked away down the hall.