I am the best cook in the capital. No one has ever said my food was bad.
That is, until my noble ex-fiancé-the one who broke off our engagement-ate a meal I prepared.
“This tastes awful. It’s a good thing I didn’t marry you.”
I calmly packed away the bowls and chopsticks. “It’s your Last Meal Before Execution. You’re still being picky?”
That’s right. I am a cook who specializes in delivering the Last Meal Before Execution to death row prisoners.