"Turing, can you break a few eggs for me... and also slice some apples."

"Hollow out the apple cores, peel them, and cut them into small pieces."

"The ones that will go into the oven later... Oh, by the way, for the steak, the usual, medium rare okay for you?"

As Merka stepped into the kitchen, it was as if a dragon had returned to the sea, a tiger had ascended the mountain—everything in the kitchen, under Merka's hands, came alive like the touch of an angel, instantly rejuvenated.

Surrounded by swirling smoke, layers upon layers enveloping Merka, making him seem like a beauty in the mist. A slab of butter hit the pan with a sizzle, a familiar sweet milky fragrance wafted out, almost captivating Turing's soul.

"Mm... medium rare is fine."

Even now, after so many years of being together, even though Turing and Merka were an old married couple, Turing's heart still occasionally skipped a beat when looking at Merka's profile.

Turing was the type to blush in front of her husband.

Without any mishaps, Merka quickly set up a table full of dishes—he was as familiar with Lady Marian's kitchen as he was with his own.

Merka slowly twisted his stiffening waist, leaned against the kitchen stove, and stared boredly at the clock on the ceiling, taking a short rest.

"Lady Marian and the others haven't returned yet."

"The rain is still pouring down... Should I go give them umbrellas or something?"

Looking out the window, Turing listened to the patter of rain hitting the kitchen's small window and softly spoke to Merka.

Unlike Merka, Turing did not show signs of fatigue. She simply stood leisurely, her hands crossed over her belly, her waist against the edge of the stove.

For the present-day Turing, there were hardly any physical activities that could make her tired.

"No need. They are adults after all."

"Both of them are magicians, they will take care of themselves."

Merka turned down the heat on the simmering tomato and beef rib soup on the stove to the lowest setting. He sincerely hoped that Lady Marian and her husband, upon their return during this rainy season, could still enjoy a hot soup.

"Oh... this headache is killing me."

After a moment of silence, Merka suddenly lowered his head, closed his eyes tightly, and pressed his temples hard with two fingers, groaning softly as if in pain.

"My dear, what's wrong again?"

Turing chuckled melodiously and playfully looked at Merka with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Look at you. Always worrying about the country and the people, driving yourself crazy over this and that. Seems like you've fried your brain, huh."

Turing gently took Merka's arm, crossed his elbow over Merka's neck, and placed her palm on the side of Merka's head, massaging it in place of Merka.

"It's not... I'm not thinking about those things."

Merka blushed, wanting to break free from Turing's coddling action like soothing a child, but couldn't.

"I just feel... um, hehe."

"You found the fourth musician so quickly, forming a band."

"I still lost in the previous argument competition... something like that."

"And Yorkshire seems to be gradually overcoming stage fright."

"Even Anna's violin skills are steadily improving."

"I'm just feeling a bit ashamed... I didn't expect that out of the four of us, I'm the only one with no progress at all."

Turing, who had been playfully wrestling with Merka, raised an eyebrow and circled around to face Merka directly, looking into her eyes with a puzzled expression.

"Isn't your organ playing skill also improving rapidly?" she asked.

"No, that's not the progress I was referring to," Merka denied.

"Uh-huh," Turing responded.

"Well, I'll tell you a secret, but you mustn't tell the Yorkshires," Merka whispered mysteriously into Turing's ear.

"I actually met with the manager of the Bremen Music Hall. He told me we are not allowed to play the organ. And he mentioned that our orchestra doesn't have enough members."

"He even said that even if we were a noble orchestra, we wouldn't be allowed to perform... sigh."

"I don't know what to do. I won't tell the Yorkshires for now, as it would definitely demotivate them from practicing."

Merka let out a light sigh.

"Is he bullying you?"

"Why would he bully you? Is it because you are a Curseborn?"

"The Forbidden Orchestra can perform, can't they?"

Turing's anger flared up immediately, as she was always particularly sensitive to unfair treatment.

"No, it's not that."

"He didn't mean to discriminate against me..."

"It's just the way things are."

"According to him, it seems like there might be some room for negotiation."

"But... before he left, he gave me a riddle that I still haven't solved."

"If only you were by my side back then, you could have used your aside ability to read his mind."

Merka hesitated for a moment, as if suddenly remembering something, and then clapped her hands together.

"Oh! I have an idea!"

"Shadow! Come out!"

Merka reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out a mechanical divination device, addressing the empty air in front of her.