We arrive, with Trey waiting with a smile. I'm getting these big brother vibes and I'm assuming he's just like that with everyone. It's nice to see some gentleness when there's all of these… strange personalities.

"Welcome back! It looks like you've gotten enough." That's a relief. Picking up chestnuts with tongs isn't my favorite activity—but if we had to go back after that dramatic encounter…

Fuck that.

"You can make the biggest tarts with all of these!" Grim is a very food motivated creature and right about now I am too.

"We have more work to do before that, so do your best." I am now starting to get the sinking suspicion that Grim and I have once more been bamboozled by the Heartslabyul dorm into helping in their shenanigans. While there is the possible promise of tart in that future—so it's more acceptable than Cater and the roses, but at the same time we're going to have to sit down and have a talk.

Because I have my own fucking problems with my own shit-hole of a dorm that's going to take a few weeks until it's in acceptable condition again—and that's only if Crowley gets some work done on the roof. I'm doubting it at this point, and I am not a roofer. I have no idea to do that—yeah, some hole repair in the walls is no big deal, but roofing is a specialty and it requires proper training. You can YouTube a hole in the wall and a lot of other minor house repairs.

I had to do a lot of this stuff when I lived with my grandmother. It's my experience that makes me a capable handyman anyway—but that's beside the point, we're getting instructions on what to do.

"So much… we're going to be here for a long time." Deuce sighs. He's right. That's obviously our fate.

"You have to have prep work for desserts." Trey explains; and as someone who bakes I am well aware of that fact.

"And proper measurements, steps…" I comment.

"Yeah, we got it! Let's just get it over with." Ace is impatient and it will be him that I wring the neck of first for not following directions.

First, Trey instructs the two able to use magic on how to use it to peel their chestnuts, and where to put the spent shells and the actual goodness on the inside. It's a simple process. Then, he's kind enough to show us how to peel them by hand.

It's not too difficult once you get into a rhythm and you're careful. Getting the spikes off to get the smooth-shelled goodness that we're going to roast is a quick process once we have gloves and cutting implements. I'm making decent work of it, at least. This isn't my first time in a kitchen, and I'm not afraid of getting pricked. That's the pain of baking and as long as there's deliciousness in my future, who cares? I don't—and no one else should.

Honestly, talking a little with one-another, and enjoying the task is what makes this go by faster. I may have almost thrown a spiky nut at Ace for a comment, but he is spared some mercy because he is also working pretty hard at this.

I can't imagine having my magic cut off, because I obviously don't have a sniff of power on me (thanks Leona)—it must be horrible. He's anxious, and I don't want to kick him while he's down right now. It's unnecessary. Honestly, we've all had a strange and difficult couple of days. It's also way easier to focus on his problems than my own.

Do I really want to sit down and think about where I'm at and what's going on? That it doesn't seem like I'm going to go home any time soon and that I understand nothing about this world? That it all seems like some strange half-nightmare and half-dream but I can't manage to wake up? That there's strange kinky elements that are definitely not on my list? There's a lot more there, but now we're roasting them, I'm pulled away from my idle thoughts while in a repetitive task to the present.

The roasting won't take forever...

"It's over, right?" That's not how that works—we are not only here to peel and roast chestnuts, Ace. I'd hate to tell him but I know Trey is about to burst his bubble.

"My arms hurt." Deuce complains. Oh, honeys.

Trey laughs a little. "Good work so far—it's going to be delicious."

"The smell is making me hungry." Grim complains.

I'm getting hungry too—but at least we had a big lunch. Or at least, Grim did. He can eat enough for three students. I think that's going to come back and bite me in the ass later via Crowley.

The chestnuts are out of the oven soon enough, and Trey starts adding them to a bowl, mixing it all together with magic, adding butter and sugar to create a marron paste. He then grins at us. "I've already added butter and sugar to create the marron paste—but we're still missing the secret ingrediant: Oyster Sauce."

I give him the flattest look because I know this hoe is lying.

Deuce and Ace exclaim in unison, "OYSTER SAUCE?!" In utter disbelief. But these two are basically becoming twins. It's so cute to watch in real time. Two peas in a dumb pod. I am growing far too affectionate too fast for these two.

"Correct! It gives the cream a rich, umami flavor." That's not what you want in a tart.

"Huh." I'm going to watch this show. It's actually a bit funny, even if it is gross misinformation.

Trey continues, "Every famous pastierre in the world uses this in their tarts." Uh huh. Go on.

"Really…? But it's such a salty sauce…" Deuce ponders this. Oh, oh this dumb boy.

But admittedly, if he had dishonored Worschetshire sauce's good name with this, I would have to have taken action against him. It's pronounced Waor-schter and I don't take arguments.

"Well, they do put chocolate in curry so I guess it… kinda makes sense." Ace logics out poorly.

But isn't it like, not processed chocolate but line the beans or baking powder? Didn't an anime do that once? I have never made curry—It's not really something on my usual flavor pallet, but I'm willing to eat anything (almost anything) once. And I like spicy food.

Trey finally lets it slip and bursts out laughing. Grim tugs on my pantleg, whispering how he doesn't understand what they're talking about. I shake my head and sigh. This was ridiculous—but it's making the time pass by.

"I was joking! There's no way I'd ever put Oyster Sauce in a TART of all things!" He's really finding this funny. This gold-eyed, green-haired meance.

"What?! I took that seriously!" Ace huffs, hands on his hips as he scowls at being caught being gullible.
"Guess gullible of the year award goes to you two." I comment dryly—but it's clear they have little to no experience baking.

Of course, our jokester calls them out on being dumb. "If you had used two braincells, you would know it was a jape! Don't believe everything you hear. Question all of it! A good lesson to learn." So he's definitely still categorized as the wise elder-brother figure of this anime.

Grim grumbles suspiciously. "He looks trustworthy, but he'll lie to our faces."

"It's a joke, Grim. You just take them in stride." I'm gentle, because like Crowley said, Grim has no experience with this.

Trey shakes his head, going back to a recipe book (which is how I know he isn't Southern; we know these by heart). "Next is fresh cream and… oh!" Uh oh. That is never good. There's woe on his face that is definitely a bad sign.

"What's wrong?" Ace asks, not knowing we are absolutely doomed.

"There's too much marron paste; I don't have enough cream for the right balance according to the recipe." Amateur.

I can recall my grandma's apple pie recipe by memory: Two cups flour, one cup of lard and mix together using dashes of water to moisten until it combines into a dough. Roll out into a circle but not so thin it tears apart. Flour rolling pin and surface as needed. Put crusts between piece of wax paper and cool for an hour or so.

Pull out crusts, put one in pan and poke holes in the bottom if you want a gooey crust. I do. If it's winter, prebake in your preheated oven of 425 Farenheit for about 15 minutes but it depends on the weather, really, and elevation. Say about up to a thousand feet—higher means longer.

The apples, about seven or nine depending on size, need to be peeled and cored—put into those pretty apple slices. An apple corer is the best thing. I love mine. If anything ever happens to it, it might be the end of my life.

Dump the applie pieces into the bottom crust, put about a cup of sugar in there and dust with cinnamon to taste but really I haven't measured any of that shit since grandma taught me the recipe. Sugar and cinnamon to taste. Put the top crust on top, poke holes or slice the middle in a plus pretty—don't care. Put in the oven and bake at 425 for about forty-five minutes or more, check at 35—edges should be golden brown, and fork should run over the crust top and sound like Heaven.

Let cool until it's ready for either vanilla ice cream or evaporated milk. Grandma liked the latter. Basically had pie cereal.

Maybe I shouldn't be too harsh—this might be his first time making a marron tart, and I shouldn't go down on Trey like that for not knowing—and making a lot and math… But I will still secretly snub him in the future in my recipe-knowledge superiority. Not that anyone's going to ask me how to bake anything.

"—I can go buy some." It's Deuce's offer that snaps me out of pie-making reality. "They sell it at the campus store, right?" Why are you volunteering if you don't know where it's sold?

"The shop has anything and everything you can dream of, Deuce. Could you also pick up a few other things while you're there?" Trey is making Deuce his kitchen gopher which is appropriate. "I need two cartons of milk, two cartons of eggs, aluminum cups, and five cans of fruit-" He is using canned fruit? I am so ashamed right now—but fine, fine, this is not somewhere with open access to a farmer's market, so considering we are at a boarding school for magic people and I also do not want to prepare more fillings tonight, he gets a free pass.

But you can taste the difference between canned and not.

"I don't think I can carry all of that by myself—No, will you come with me?" Well, we're going on an adventure, aren't we? I don't want to leave Deuce on his own for this task. My intuition is telling me that every step of the way is cause for trouble.

"Sure, why not." I reply, and we set off on our adventure.

"I'm coming with! I'm so tired of mixing…" Grim sighs; he does look a bit tuckered out. We have had a rough few days.

Trey produces a pamphlet with a map, handing it to me. "I don't know if you've been there before, but here's a map of the campus. It has pictures, so you won't get lost."

"Thanks." I feel mocked, a little, but some people are visual people, so, makes sense.

I unfold the helpful little map and gesture for Deuce and Grim to come as we set off on our side quest, a place known as: Mister S's Mystery Shop!

Sounds like a mysterious time.