Three days after arriving in this world, Ahcehera reached a rather important conclusion. The Sirius Kingdom possessed technology capable of crossing entire star systems.
It possessed artificial intelligence sophisticated enough to imitate human emotions, and military simulations so realistic that they could fool all five senses. Yet despite all these incredible achievements, the food was disappointing.
Ahcehera stared at the breakfast spread arranged neatly across the dining table.
A colorful fruit that tasted vaguely like soap. A nutrient-rich grain porridge with the texture of damp paper. And a roasted cut of meat that somehow managed to be both overly salty and completely bland.
She lowered her fork.
The palace chef standing nearby immediately stiffened. "Your Highness... is something wrong with breakfast?"
Ahcehera considered her words carefully. "No."
The chef visibly relaxed.
Then she added, "I've simply discovered that advanced civilizations can still commit crimes against food."
The poor chef nearly dropped the serving tray.
Several servants froze.
Even Emil, who stood quietly nearby, tilted his head slightly.
An awkward silence filled the dining hall.
Realizing her comment might have sounded more insulting than intended, Ahcehera quickly waved her hand.
"The food is nutritious."
That wasn't a lie.
"The ingredients are fresh."
Also true.
She sighed.
"But I miss homemade food."
The chef looked relieved.
At least she wasn't angry.
Ahcehera set down her utensils.
If she wanted familiar flavors, there was only one solution.
She would make them herself.
An hour later, the royal kitchens descended into chaos.
"Princess!"
"What are you doing here?"
"Your Highness, please be careful!"
The moment Ahcehera entered, every chef, assistant, and servant immediately abandoned their tasks.
Several rushed forward in panic.
The head chef looked moments away from fainting.
Ahcehera blinked.
"What?"
"Your Highness shouldn't be here."
"Why not?"
The head chef swallowed nervously.
"The kitchen is dangerous."
Ahcehera stared at him.
Behind the man stood a collection of industrial cooking stations, anti-gravity ovens, plasma-heated cookware, and enough automated safety systems to protect a small military installation.
Dangerous?
She doubted it.
"I merely want to cook."
The kitchen became silent.
One apprentice accidentally dropped a spoon.
The metallic clang echoed through the room.
The head chef's expression turned pale.
"Cook?"
"Yes."
"Personally?"
"Yes."
"With your own hands?"
Ahcehera folded her arms.
"That is generally how cooking works."
Several staff members exchanged nervous looks.
Nobody appeared convinced.
Apparently, royalty cooking their own meals was considered a shocking event.
Interesting.
The original Ahcehera must never have entered the kitchen.
"Relax."
She smiled slightly.
"I don't intend to burn down the palace."
The statement failed to reassure anyone.
Once the staff finally calmed down, Ahcehera began examining the available ingredients.
Immediately, she encountered a problem.
Nothing looked normal.
A giant bird nearly twice the size of an ostrich hung from one preparation table. Metallic blue feathers covered parts of its body, creating the impression that someone had crossed a chicken with a machine.
Nearby rested a horned pig whose curled tusks resembled those of a prehistoric beast.
Several vegetables glowed faintly.
One fruit changed color whenever she touched it.
Another appeared to be breathing.
"What in the world..."
She picked up a bright orange vegetable.
The thing squirmed.
Ahcehera immediately put it down.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
One of the chefs coughed politely.
"Your Highness, that species becomes agitated when handled incorrectly."
"Handled incorrectly?"
"Yes."
"It moved."
"That's normal."
Ahcehera stared at him.
The chef stared back.
Neither spoke.
This galaxy was insane.
Eventually, she settled on a relatively safe choice.
Braised pork.
Or at least the closest equivalent.
The horned pig looked edible.
Hopefully.
As she prepared the meat, another discovery surprised her.
Her strength.
The heavy cuts that should have required significant effort felt unexpectedly easy to handle.
The knife moved smoothly through thick layers of flesh.
Large portions that would have challenged her old Earth body felt light.
Ahcehera paused.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The original Ahcehera possessed B-rank mental power.
According to the novel, many people pitied or mocked her because of it.
Compared to the empire's elite talents, B-rank was considered mediocre.
Yet something felt different.
Could transmigration have affected her abilities?
Had replacing the original soul somehow changed the body's potential?
The possibility lingered in her thoughts.
I should test that later.
For now, food came first.
Soon the aroma of simmering meat filled the kitchen.
Even the skeptical chefs found themselves glancing repeatedly toward the cooking station.
Ahcehera examined the available spices.
Unfortunately, another problem emerged.
No sugar.
No chili.
No soy sauce.
No rice.
Several substitutes existed, but none were exact replacements.
A small part of her felt disappointed.
Back on Earth, many recipes relied on ingredients she could no longer access.
Yet another part of her felt excited.
This was a challenge.
A puzzle.
An opportunity to create something entirely new.
Slowly, she experimented.
Adjusting proportions.
Testing flavors.
Combining unfamiliar seasonings.
The process reminded her of happier times.
Simple moments spent cooking at home.
Moments she once believed were ordinary.
Only after losing them did she understand how precious they had been.
Her hands slowed.
For a brief moment, homesickness settled in her chest.
Earth was gone.
Her family was gone.
Everything familiar belonged to another life.
Ahcehera closed her eyes.
Then she smiled.
No.
Not gone.
Those memories still existed.
And as long as she remembered them, a part of Earth remained with her.
Several hours later, the dish was finally complete.
The rich aroma spread throughout the kitchen.
Even the servants standing near the entrance looked curious.
Ahcehera scooped a small portion onto a plate.
Carefully, she took a bite.
The meat was tender.
Savory.
Comforting.
Not perfect.
But close.
Very close.
A smile appeared on her face.
Success.
The surrounding staff watched nervously.
Clearly, they wanted to try it.
Yet none dared ask.
Ahcehera laughed softly.
"Come."
The chefs blinked.
"Taste it."
Nobody moved.
The head chef looked horrified.
"Your Highness, we couldn't possibly—"
"You can."
She interrupted gently.
"I need honest feedback."
That immediately changed everything.
Within moments, plates were distributed.
The first chef tasted the dish.
His eyes widened.
A second chef tried it.
Then a third.
Soon the entire kitchen erupted with surprised reactions.
"This is incredible."
"The flavor is unlike anything I've tasted."
"How is it so rich?"
"Princess, this is amazing!"
The praise continued.
Ahcehera listened quietly.
Part of her felt pleased.
Another part remained dissatisfied.
Something was missing.
Sugar.
Chili.
Several key ingredients.
Without them, the dish couldn't reach its full potential.
Still.
It was a beginning.
And beginnings mattered.
That evening, Ahcehera visited Starcentral District's largest marketplace.
The district looked even more vibrant at night.
Countless holographic advertisements illuminated the streets.
Merchants called out to potential customers.
Delivery drones zipped overhead.
Alien species from various planets moved through the crowds.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Ahcehera felt like a true explorer.
Then she noticed something strange.
A vendor sold a pile of purple root vegetables.
Her eyes widened.
Wait.
That looks familiar.
She approached quickly.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
Ube.
Nearby sat several rough, brown fruits.
Coconuts.
Her heart nearly skipped a beat.
Earth ingredients.
Or at least their interstellar equivalents.
Yet the sign above them made her pause.
ANIMAL FEED.
Ahcehera stared.
Then stared again.
Surely there had been a mistake.
"These are used for livestock?" she asked.
The vendor nodded.
"Mostly."
Ahcehera looked at the coconuts.
Then the ube.
Then back at the vendor.
A dangerous smile slowly spread across her face.
"I'll buy everything."
The vendor nearly choked.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
The man looked as though he'd just won the lottery.
Meanwhile, Ahcehera imagined cakes.
Desserts.
Ice cream.
Pastries.
Possibilities.
Countless possibilities.
The poor citizens of this galaxy had no idea what treasures they had been feeding to animals.
As workers loaded her purchases, Ahcehera could barely contain her excitement.
This second life suddenly became much more interesting.
When she finally returned to the palace, the kitchen staff stared at the mountains of purple roots and coconuts in complete disbelief.
One brave chef finally spoke.
"Princess..."
"Yes?"
The man pointed hesitantly.
"Is animal feed really suitable for making desserts?"