The warm glow of the dining room light flickered softly over the dinner table as Yor proudly set down a steaming dish in front of her family. The aroma was… unique, to say the least—an odd blend of charred spices and something vaguely metallic. But her face shone with pride, and that alone was enough to make Loid straighten his posture, forcing a composed smile onto his face.

Anya, seated between them, stared wide-eyed at the plate before her, the pink-haired girl already picking up on her father’s internal turmoil. Papa is nervous… the food is dangerous… but if I say it’s bad, Mama will be sad!

“Well then,” Loid said smoothly, picking up his fork with practiced ease. “This looks wonderful, Yor. You really outdid yourself tonight.”

Anya gulped and mimicked his enthusiasm. “Y-yeah! Mama’s food is… elegant!”

Yor’s eyes sparkled at their praise. “Oh, I’m so glad! I tried a new technique this time—I read that searing everything on high heat locks in the flavor.”

Loid’s expression didn’t falter as he lifted a bite to his lips, bracing himself. The taste was… complex. A mix of overcooked meat, an oddly bitter seasoning, and something he couldn’t quite place—perhaps burnt garlic? Either way, he chewed with an unwavering, practiced ease, offering his wife a nod of approval.

Anya, however, was less subtle. Her face contorted slightly, but she forced a thumbs-up, determined not to hurt her mother’s feelings. “Tastes… like a spy mission!” she declared.

Yor clapped her hands together. “Really? That’s amazing! I was hoping for something bold and exciting this time.”

Loid shot a glance at Anya, who was struggling to swallow, her tiny hands gripping her glass of water like it was her lifeline. With a well-practiced motion, Loid set down his fork and smiled.

“Well, I’d say this is a mission success, then.”

Yor beamed, and despite the struggle, Loid found himself relaxing. Perhaps enduring the occasional culinary disaster was just part of the role. And at the end of the day, seeing his wife happy was worth every bite.