“Oh, mydy, are you here?”


    The chef of our mansion weed me as soon as I walked into the kitchen. He was already wearing a neat white cooking suit and a hat. I picked up my own suit neatly ced next to him, with a white cooking gown and an apron on top of my indoor dress, I looked like a mini chef.


    “Just right. That’s a relief.”


    “Huh, I was in big trouble because you wanted to cook yourself. Oh, you should listen to the precautions when using cooking utensils, it’s really important for your safety.”


    I listened to the chef’s words with one ear.


    I already knew about the safety measures in the kitchen but if he realized I wasn’t listening then he might kick me out.


    “Now, pour the sugar here first, miss.”


    “Yes.”


    After listening to the long exnation, the chef finally gave me a bag of sugar.


    Oh, I’m nervous and excited. Is this the first dish I’ve ever cooked with my own hands in this world?


    I poured sugar five times into the measuring cup and the sugar filled half of therge ss bowl.


    Then the chef, who was watching what I was doing, ced down some ss bottles. They were fruit-vored syrups with colorful, beautiful natural pigments.


    “Is this kiwi vored syrup?”


    I liked kiwi for my personal taste, so I asked him about the green bottle and he said no.


    “Then what?”


    “Huh, this is a green apple vored syrup, miss.”


    “Ah…… green apple. I see.”


    Nodding his head, he checked thebels of the remaining bottles.


    Yellow is lemon, red is strawberry, green is green apple, blue is blueberry, ck is…… huh?


    ‘Cinnamon vor? Why is this here?’


    I hurriedly grabbed the cinnamon syrup and pushed it aside.


    For children with sensitive tastes, the cinnamon vor was not preferred.


    I was like that.


    “Now I have to mix the ingredients…… Hmmm.”


    After I poured the syrup into the bowl of sugar, I nced at the chef who seemed to be looking for something in a hurry. Oh, no way. Were you doing something else while I was working hard?


    “It’s a spat that fits thedy’s hand. Mix well using this.”


    He then brought a small spat from the corner of the kitchen that looked about one-third the size of a regr wooden spat. When I looked closely, I saw signs of clumsy shaving. I’m sorry you had to cut a normal spat because of me…… I’ll use it well.


    Stirring sugar with a small hand was a task that took quite a lot of strength, but I was able to finish the work. Now I have to put it in a pot with the other ingredients and melt it… Huh? The chef won’t let me go to the oven!


    “Mydy, I’m sorry, but I think I have to deal with the fire. I don’t want you to get hurt.”


    The chef said with a firm face. I was disappointed but I understood him. If I identally got hurt by the fire then the chef would be the one to take responsibility.


    “Okay. I can’t help it. Melt it well, instead of me……”


    “……Miss, instead, I’ll help you put it in a mold and shape it up.”


    “Oh, really?”


    He probably took pity on me and offered me a deal. It was obviously a trick, but I decided to let it go. Well, it’s not a lie to say that I made it myself.


    Eventually, I gently put the liquid melted by the chef into the mold with his help. I also ced a wooden stick slightly thicker than a toothpick into the mold.


    “Mydy, you must be a genius to think about eating caramel like this.”


    I squirmed at the chef’spliment.


    The caramel bar was not truly my idea, but it was the first time in this world, so I let him believe that it was mine.


    ‘Caramel is done!’


    The first step in the kindergartenworking project was to start with this caramel.


    I smiled secretly, I was proud of myself because I felt that the grand n was taking its first steps toward sess.