CHAPTER 34: UNHOLY ACTS OF SERVICE

It was probably nothing.

Just residual irritation from things not going as planned.

Kael hated when that happened. But maybe his father was right, humans really were wild cards. They looked at the world differently. Thought differently.

Because who would’ve guessed that that method would actually work on dragons?

Or maybe it was just because Orien was still a kid. Surely it had to be that?

Either way, Riley had gone out of his way. He even used a preservation artifact to bring the goods in.

Today’s menu? Hamburgers.

He could have bought them from the nearest fast food chain, but he quickly realized what a terrible idea that was. What if Orien asked what was in it? Or worse, how it was made?

There was no way he could interrogate some poor part-timer at the counter just to get a burger breakdown or ask for it to be made in front of him.

So, like any self-sabotaging overachiever, Riley decided to cook them himself.

Sure, his culinary skills were mostly honed from years of late-night cravings and desperate experiments in shared university housing, but burgers and fries? That was doable, especially if he utilized the skills passed down by the seniors who ended up with the job of feeding the group during their research runs.

A quick trip to the grocery store and he was ready.

This time, he didn’t even cheap out on the ingredients.

He bought the premium patties—the kind their mom only used when Liam miraculously passed his tests.

He skipped the barely-milk cheese slices of his college days and picked out ones that looked like they’d actually met a cow in their lifetime.

Lettuce, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and even pickles. He wasn’t sure if Orien would be a picky eater, so he was going to make both versions, with and without pickles.

Fresh bottles of mayonnaise and mustard. Real butter and not even margarine. Actual salt and pepper, not the kind that came in packets. He was going to use a shaker to grind that black pepper.

And finally, burger buns from his favorite bakery.

Riley was going to make this meal from scratch. Not just for the sake of effort, but so he could confidently defend it with the full force of a tired, overworked but thankfully paid aide who absolutely did not want to be blamed for food poisoning a not-so-baby dragon.

__

The pan hit the stove with a clang.

And Riley exhaled like a man trying to relive a deeply buried memory.

Well, he could’ve just looked up a video tutorial, but instead decided to channel muscle memory and the combined trauma of feeling dozens of ravenous grad students and at least three professors who they couldn’t exactly feed with tree bark.

He slapped a burger patty onto the hot cast iron.

SZZZCHHHH.

Oh yeah. That was the sound of obligation... and beef.

The fat crackled, sizzled, and snapped like it had opinions. Riley quickly seasoned both sides with salt and pepper, flipping it with a satisfying PHWAP that would’ve made his sleep-deprived undergrad self proud.

"Still got it," he muttered while adding onions into the pan for caramelization.

To the side, the second pan screamed as fries hit the oil like rebellious confetti.

KSSSHHHHH!!

He buttered the buns and toasted them, because he was already going all out anyway. The least he could do was to make the reimbursement count. They crackled and browned to golden perfection, fragrant and beautiful.

Then came assembly. Cheese melted on the patty as he focused on building what should look like a masterpiece once he was done.

Mayonnaise on the bottom bun. One leaf of crispy lettuce. Tomatoes. Pickles. That patty, glorious with melted cheese. The caramelized onions, now less defiant. And finally, the top bun—modestly lined with mustard on the underside.

He repeated the process until he had four burgers and two piles of fries.

He stared.

Then blinked.

"Should I make another batch?"

He looked at the bun bag. Then at the fridge. Then sighed.

"...If the kid hates it, I’ll ration it out through the day."

Spoken like a man who had seen too many leftovers turn into unholy science projects.

However, who would’ve known he’d end up with a completely different problem?

Riley stared in horror at what the dragon lord had casually gobbled up.

"...What."

He had only presented a batch for inspection. That’s it. He even came prepared with a full video showing how he opened the ingredients, chopped everything himself, and handled the entire process hygienically.

To his surprise, Kael had actually watched the footage. Not only that, but his carefully composed expression had cracked for a brief second. A blink of disbelief. A twitch in the jaw. Riley saw it all.

Because Kael could not believe the madness unfolding before him.

He had only instructed Riley to check on Orien and, if necessary, bring something edible in case the kid was throwing another fit. He never said to cook. Certainly not from scratch.

And yet here was Riley Hale, the very same employee who regularly tried to escape paperwork by claiming ceiling collapse or a localized calamity, suddenly deciding to prepare an entire meal by hand. Personally.

He had said he’d bring something, not make something.

Even worse, the man had never done this for him. Snacks came from branded shops. And save for steeping the drinks, Riley had never once made anything for his actual employer.

How dare he cook for a brat and not the dragon signing his paychecks?

Kael didn’t realize he was clenching his jaw until the pen on his desk cracked again. He opened the preserving artifact that contained the food "for Orien," intent on declaring it subpar and sending it back.

He was the boss, after all. His judgment would be final.

But as soon as he lifted the lid and the scent wafted out, Kael paused.

What was that? Why did it smell... acceptable?

He narrowed his eyes and unwrapped one of the parchment bundles. Inside was something familiar, something he’d seen in advertisements posted around human districts. A burger.

Kael stared at it like it had personally offended him.

He wasn’t ignorant. He knew what it was, of course. But in all his years, he had never tried one. His diet had been strictly managed for centuries, carefully maintained for optimal magical and physical balance.

Still... it was just one bite.

The first bite turned into a second. Then a third. Then it was gone.

Gone.

Kael blinked.

"...?"

In front of the dragon lord’s table, Riley stared at the empty wrapper. He didn’t even have time to process what he saw before Kael reached for a second one.

"My Lord, that’s for—"

Kael turned to him with a look sharp enough to slice stone. "The ministry cannot reimburse this. The cost will fall to me. So tell me, who is this for?"

Riley’s mouth opened, then closed. Oh. Right. Technically, Orien was under Kael’s personal protection, not on any official assignment. They’re not even aware he’s here.

So all of this came from Kael’s vault.

"I’ll just take the remaining half over to him..." Riley said quickly, scooping up the box and inching toward the door.

Just before he exited, he hesitated.

"Sir... next time, would you like me to make some for you too?"

Kael didn’t answer immediately. His eyes lingered on Riley, his nose twitching almost imperceptibly. Riley, who had learned the nuances of that grumpy face over years of service, knew exactly what that meant.

He liked it.

Riley grinned, bowed, and left with a spring in his step.

Behind him, Kael grunted, deeply annoyed. His fingers returned to the parchment, this time unwrapping the second burger with exaggerated care.

He would need to inspect it thoroughly. Slowly. Bite by bite.

Who knew what that reckless mortal had stuffed in there?

Possibly poison.

Probably salt.

But either way, it was his now.