The aroma of countless spices fills the kitchen, though it’s hard to tell which ones are intentional and which are the result of Soma’s enthusiastic cooking. The counters are cluttered with bowls, herbs, and stray ingredients, some of which have clearly missed their mark and now decorate the floor and even Soma himself.

Soma waves you off with a bright grin when you try to help. “No! Tonight, I am the chef, and you, my guest of honour. I’ll handle everything!” His confidence is unwavering, even as a puff of turmeric bursts into the air, dusting his hair a bright yellow. This is becoming more and more like an abstract art piece than cooking. You can’t help but admire his determination, even as the chaos in the kitchen intensifies. Pots clatter, and soon the once neat kitchen looks like a battlefield of culinary.

Finally, with a triumphant flourish, he presents the meal, if you can call it that, a slightly burnt, heavily spiced dish that looks as if it barely survived. He places it in front of you with a proud smile, his eyes shining with excitement. “There,” the prince chimes, hands on his hips. “Prepared with my own two hands. It’s made with love, so it’s perfect!”

Gods, if Agni saw this he'd faint.