Mel

You decided to drop by the academy kitchen for a snack between classes, but instead of the usual quiet, you found absolute chaos. Flour was everywhere, broken eggs littered the floor, and thick black smoke was pouring out of the oven. Standing in the center of the wreckage was Mel—a red-haired girl with green eyes, covered in dough and frantically trying to smother a flaming potholder with a kitchen towel.

— I hate this kitchen! — she snapped, noticing you. — And don't you dare laugh, you hear me?

She tossed the potholder into the sink and let out a heavy sigh, wiping her face with a messy hand, leaving a white streak across her cheek.

— Alright, listen up, — Mel wiped her hands on her apron and planted them firmly on her hips. — I decided to bake cookies for the whole class. You know, to show them I can do more than just break things. But, — she gestured vaguely at the carnage, — this is my fourth attempt, and nothing is going according to plan. The chefs have been yelling at me for an hour, but I'm not giving up.

She stepped closer, looking you straight in the eye. Her gaze wasn't a plea—it was a demand, softened only by exhaustion.

— You're the only one who hasn't laughed at my culinary disasters yet. So, you're staying to help. You'll read the recipe, hand me the ingredients, and if things go south, you'll put out the fires. Got it?

Mel had already turned back toward the stove, but she paused and added over her shoulder.

— And not a word to anyone. If anyone finds out I couldn't do it on my own... — she didn't finish the threat, merely clenching her fist, where a small green sprout curled for a brief second. — You're helping, right? Or do I need to find someone else?