Sylvara's Rebirth A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 99

**Chapter 99: Five Meals to Freedom**

Aslan grasped the orb firmly in his hands, determination etched across his face. “I’m going to test her right now. There’s no way she can hide her true identity this effectively.” His voice was resolute, filled with a mix of defiance and curiosity.

The man beside him, with a sly grin creeping across his lips, suddenly clapped Aslan on the shoulder with a force that made him flinch. “Ah, my friend,” he said with a knowing tone, “don’t let conventional wisdom cloud your judgment when it comes to someone skilled at concealing their true self. And never underestimate someone whose identity is a mystery, no matter how much you think you know.”

Aslan stood there, momentarily at a loss for words, his mind racing. What could he possibly mean by that? Was there a deeper truth lurking beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered?

Meanwhile, Sylvara was busy changing out of her brown combat uniform, handing it over to her robot assistant for a return to the administration office. She slipped into her bright red camouflage daily uniform, the Culinary Department badge proudly affixed to her arm. Initially, she had intended to send a quick message to her husband, often humorously referred to as her “bargain-bin husband,” to check in on things.

But as she pondered this, a thought struck her. A good wife, she reasoned, shouldn’t be overly clingy. She needed to allow her husband the space to feel accomplished in his own right.

With a sigh, she decided against sending the message and stepped out through the gate, only to be met with an unexpected sight. There stood Veyric, the ever-shameless freeloader, waiting for her. His eyes widened in shock as he took in her new attire. “Sylvie! You actually switched departments? And to the Culinary Department of all places? That’s like diving into the deep end of a pool with no water!”

“Is there a problem with that?” Sylvara asked, lifting her feet and following the navigation voice emanating from her optical computer, her tone steady and unbothered.

“No, it’s not that…” Veyric hurried to catch up, his voice laced with concern. “Sylvie, you need to really think this through. The Culinary Department has no future, you know. There are hardly any edible plants left that haven’t mutated beyond recognition. It’s all meat, and let’s be honest, you can’t create anything fancy with just that. The few food establishments in the Troya Empire are monopolies. Unless you whip up something truly extraordinary, you might as well be cooking for rats!”

Sylvara halted abruptly, turning to face him with a piercing gaze. “Were those ribs at lunch good?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Veyric’s body jerked in surprise, and he stammered, “Delicious!” The word escaped him like a confession.

A triumphant smile spread across Sylvara’s face, revealing a flash of her teeth. “Do you really think I could land a job with just a plate of ribs like that?”

“Absolutely!” Veyric replied, his enthusiasm infectious.

With a swift motion, Sylvara turned him around so his back faced her, raised her foot, and playfully kicked him in the rear. “Then stop worrying and get lost,” she commanded, a playful edge to her voice.

Veyric nearly stumbled from the unexpected kick, clutching his backside as he called after her retreating figure, “I’ll buy some meat tonight and come find you for dinner!”

Sylvara chose to ignore his shouted promise and quickened her pace, her mind already focused on the tasks ahead.

After a brisk twenty-minute walk, she arrived at the Culinary Department. The academy grounds were sprawling, a maze of buildings and pathways that seemed to stretch on forever.

Feeling invigorated by the encounter, she stood before the old man, her voice bright and clear. “Officer, do you really only want one dish?”

The classroom was a veritable kitchen, equipped with everything needed for sautéing, frying, boiling, braising, and roasting.

Ingredients, mostly meat-based with a scant selection of vegetables, lay ready on the tables.

Seeing her withstand his mental energy without adverse effects, the old man adjusted his chair to face her directly, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “If you can prepare eight to ten dishes that satisfy me, I’ll let you skip directly to the second year of the Culinary Department.”

One meal to leap into the second year? Sylvara couldn’t help but wonder if all officers in the Interstellar Era were this whimsical and unpredictable.

“Officer, are you serious?” she asked, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. “If I cook five meals and you’re pleased, I graduate?”

The old man took a loud slurp from his teapot, smacking his lips without a hint of decorum. “Young lady, you’re aiming high! Five meals and you think you can graduate?”

Suppressing a laugh, Sylvara carefully reined in her mental energy, presenting herself as completely harmless. “Well, you did say that if one meal is good, I could advance to the second year. The academy lasts five years in total, so wouldn’t that mean five meals?”