Paros stared down at the pair of chopsticks resting in his hand, sharp brows knitting together in hesitation.
Rory had expected this—of course he didn't know how to use chopsticks. Without saying a word, she reached over and handed him a fork instead. Then she immediately turned back to the stove and began cooking another bowl of noodles for herself.
The rich scent of fried beast cutlet noodles filled the room, curling directly into the Grand Elder's nose. His stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl, and he nearly started drooling on the spot.
"Uhm… Female Master Roanna…" The elder cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. "W-Would it be possible for you to make us a bowl as well? We'll pay in star coins, of course. The same amount!"
It smelled far too good. Missing this meal would be unforgivable. And besides, the Dragon Kind were hardly lacking in gems or star coins. For a meal so appetising, they were ready to pay anything.
The moment she heard the words "star coins," Rory visibly brightened. She happily dropped two more portions of noodles into boiling water and got more spices. She had plenty of noodles—if there was money involved, she could keep cooking all day long.
This was already shaping up to be quite a good deal!
The noodles emerged springy and silky, the broth thick and rich. The beast meat was unexpectedly tender, free of that usual sour, gamey bite. Instead, it left a faint tingling heat on the tongue, a spice that only made one crave more. It was addictive—like a dish crafted to stir the beast within.
Paros finished his bowl without a word, then his gaze drifted back to Rory. This small female might look delicate, but she clearly wasn't useless.
At the very least, her cooking perfectly suited his tastes—better than anything he'd eaten at the Dragon Palace, or even from the finest chefs in the Central District.
Leaning back, his voice low and unhurried, he asked, "How many star coins would it take for you to cook like this for me every day?"
Rory froze.
On one hand, more star coins meant more happiness. On the other, she was already providing him with mental comfort daily. If those sessions drained her the way yesterday's had, she'd barely have the strength to stand—let alone cook three meals a day.
And what about her own matters? Being chained to the kitchen was never part of her plan.
With a courteous smile, she replied, "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't know your preferences well enough—what if you don't like all my cooking?"
After all, he was her rich uncle. Even rejection had to be wrapped delicately.
Paros's gaze darkened, pressing down on her with quiet authority. "Fifty billion a month."
Rory nearly choked. Was this how true beast elites operated—tossing star coins around like loose change? She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Paros added calmly, "One hundred billion."
One hundred billion?
He said it as casually as flicking a coin into a fountain. Rory suddenly wondered if she'd severely undervalued herself with that fifty-million-per-comfort deal. Her thoughts must have shown, because Paros raised the stakes again.
"Three hundred billion."
Alright—forget what she'd said earlier. She snapped her head up and met his gaze.
"This isn't about money," she explained carefully. "It's just… there are things I can't control. I can't promise I'll have time to cook for you every single day. I'm just… one person."
"Then cook whenever you do have time."
Paros's dark eyes lingered on hers, and for the first time, the cold depths of his gaze softened with a trace of amusement.
Rory almost laughed. A man this wealthy, this generous, and this absurdly easy to negotiate with—what kind of cosmic lottery had she won?
Thank you, Beast God, for dropping such an outrageously rich benefactor into my life!
So what if he didn't like her? Who cared—he paid in star coins, and that was enough.
"Deal." Rory finally agreed, offering him her hand for a handshake.
Three hundred billion a month.
And he would be staying here for three months. That meant nine hundred billion. Nine hundred. Billion. If that wasn't instant wealth, what was?
To seal the agreement, Rory immediately prepared another bowl of noodles for him—this time topped with two perfectly fried beast eggs. Paros ate quietly, clearly satisfied. The contentment on his face didn't escape her notice.
After breakfast, Paros ordered the elder and the other retainers to leave, keeping only two men close at hand.
Even they didn't remain in the villa—Dragon Kind were territorial by nature, and no male had the right to stay overnight inside a female's home unless he was her mate.
Paros had no intention of truly bonding with Rory, but until their match was dissolved, his staying here was acceptable. The rest wasn't Rory's concern.
Once the villa fell quiet, leaving only the two of them, Paros turned his gaze toward her.
"Now," he drawled, watching her lazily scroll through her light-brain, "can you give me mental soothing?"
Breakfast was finished. The entourage was gone. She didn't look busy. Rory had just finished posting a purchase request for tier-five beast cores and insect cores. With a resigned sigh, she closed her light-brain and stood.
Looking at the man sprawled like a king on her couch, she asked softly, "Do you want me to do it here… or should we go up to your room?"