The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story After Rebirth

Chapter 431: The Ravioli She Made

After crying for a while, Isolde heard someone land lightly behind her. She thought it was Oliver, but when she turned around, she was surprised to see Ruben. Quickly wiping her tears, she got to her feet and said, “Senior.”

Ruben gave her a cold look and said, “I’m hungry. Can you cook? Come with me.”

Isolde nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” Her eyes were swollen from crying, and as she followed him, she stumbled in the snow, almost falling. Ruben reached out and caught her. “With your clumsiness, you’re planning to sneak into a snake’s den? You’d be bitten by a poisonous snake before even getting there.”

At his words, Isolde felt a surge of excitement. “Does that mean you agree?”

“I didn’t agree,” Ruben replied flatly. Isolde didn’t give up. She knew it was getting late, and she didn’t have much time. Still, she had to remain patient, knowing that if she pushed too hard, she would lose her chance entirely.

They walked for about fifteen minutes, and ahead, she saw a small wooden cabin. The cabin was modest, with a courtyard that was bare, covered by a blanket of snow. There were no dead flowers or plants. To the right was a large kitchen—larger than the main room, which was simple. It had a table, a bed, a chair, and a cupboard. There was nothing extra.

“Sit,” Ruben said, pointing to a chair. Isolde sat down, rubbing her eyes. After crying so much, her eyes were swollen, her nose was red, and her lips were purple—she looked a mess. But there was a certain vulnerability about her, making her appear pitiful.

Ruben lit another lamp, brightening the room, and glanced at her. “Your grandmother, what illness does she have?”

Isolde sniffed, her voice thick with emotion. “She’s always had poor health. For years, she’s been relying on medicine to get by. She can’t stop taking it. For so long, she stayed with my grandfather in Sinmour City. The wind and dust there are harsh, but she endured it because she didn’t want to burden him.”

She felt that Ruben respected warriors—earlier, when he saw her fighting stance, he deduced she was one. So she mentioned her grandfather’s time in Sinmour City, hoping it might strike a chord.

Ruben’s tone softened a little. “Her health was always poor. Even in Argentum, she relied on medicine. How could she withstand the harshness of Sinmour City?”

Isolde was taken aback. “You seem to know her well. Who exactly are you? You don’t seem connected to anyone from Argentum. Why haven’t Doug and Sadie mentioned you before? And if you really knew my grandmother, my grandfather should recognize you too.”

Ruben gave a small sigh. “Who doesn’t know your grandparents? Your grandfather was a well-known general in the Eryndral Empire. Even a three-year-old child would know him. As for your grandmother…”

Isolde hesitated before answering, “Yes.”

“Oliver?” Ruben asked, his tone neutral.

“How do you know?” Isolde was taken aback.

“He didn’t come up from the side path with you?” Ruben said with a scoff. “I know he’s been to Venton Mount. Even the snakes here know him.”

Isolde felt embarrassed. “I guess nothing gets past you. But… who exactly are you?”

Ruben’s tone shifted coldly. “Who I am doesn’t concern you. I’m hungry. What can you cook? Get to work in the kitchen.”

Isolde felt the change in his tone, likely due to Oliver. Not wanting to press further, she decided to focus on cooking something delicious to improve their relationship. If Ruben had any compassion for Natasha, it would make things easier.

She entered the kitchen, only to find it poorly stocked—just some basic ingredients like oil, salt, and flour. She couldn’t make bread with just these, could she? She stepped out and asked, “Is there any other ingredient?”

Ruben, leisurely sitting back and smoking a pipe, answered, “If I had them, why would I have asked you to cook?”

Isolde was stunned. How could I cook with no ingredients? I’m not even a master chef.

“Quickly,” Ruben ordered. “I’m hungry. When I’m hungry, I can’t think straight. I might even send the snakes to deal with your man. But when I’m full, everything can be negotiated.”

Isolde had no choice but to return to the kitchen. She rummaged around, but all she found was flour—no meat, no dried goods, not even any vegetables. She couldn’t help but feel frustrated. It looked like she would have to make bread after all.

She started a fire and boiled some water, then glanced at the sugar bricks nearby. Suddenly, she remembered something her nanny, Penny Gardner, had taught her: ravioli. Though she might not be great at making bread, ravioli was a dish she knew well. It had been a long time since she made it, but once you learn something, it’s hard to forget.

She quickly gathered everything she needed for ravioli and started kneading the dough. After about half an hour, two steaming bowls of ravioli were ready and placed before Ruben. He looked at them, pausing for a moment. “Ravioli?”

“It may look simple, but it’s delicious. You won’t find this taste anywhere else,” Isolde said with a smile. Luckily, Ruben had all the ingredients she needed. The ravioli turned out perfectly, almost as good as the ones Penny used to make.

Ruben glanced at it but shook his head. “I’m not eating…”

Isolde was taken aback. “Why? I worked hard on this. It’s really different from what you get outside. Please, try one.”

“No,” Ruben said coldly. “Throw it away.”

Isolde’s face fell. “But I put so much effort into this. Just try one bite.”

“Throw it out,” Ruben ordered, his tone final.

Isolde stared at the ravioli, feeling a surge of frustration. She had worked hard to make this, and he wanted her to throw it away. But she was asking for something from him, so she held back her anger. “You won’t eat? Fine, I will. But I’ll find a way to make something else for you later.”

She picked up her spoon, ready to eat, but suddenly, Ruben slapped it out of her hand, flipping her bowl of ravioli onto the floor.

“I told you to throw it away. I won’t eat ravioli, and I won’t allow anyone to eat it in front of me,” he said angrily.

Isolde looked at the ravioli scattered across the floor, her fists clenched. She spoke coldly, “You don’t want it? Fine, I’ll throw it out. But you know, ravioli isn’t some fancy food—it’s a memory from my childhood. When I was upset, Penny would make it for me. Just one bite, and I’d feel better. I made it for you, thinking it might bring you comfort.”

Ruben glared at her. “Which Penny?”

Isolde paused, then lowered her gaze. “You don’t know her.”

“Is it Penny?” Ruben asked.

Isolde looked up, surprised. “You know Penny?”

Ruben sat down slowly, staring at the ravioli in front of him. His brow furrowed, and for the first time, there seemed to be a flicker of pain in his eyes.

Isolde stood up and said, “You know Penny? She’s my nanny at Belleview Manor. I was raised by her.”

“Belleview Manor? Impossible. Didn’t she marry a scholar and become his concubine?” Ruben said, his voice filled with disbelief.

“What scholar? She never married,” Isolde responded.

“Impossible. When I left Argentum, she was already pregnant,” Ruben said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her.