Transmigrated: I Became My Nemesis's Woman

After waking up from his nap, Leo had his snacks and went to his study.

But instead of focusing on the book in front of him, the boy seemed lost in thought.

"Are you having trouble studying, young master? Should I inform your teacher?" Butler Rupert asked, noticing his distraction.

Studying wasn’t something Leo particularly enjoyed, but he was never careless about it either. Seeing him sit there, staring at the book without turning a page, made Rupert wonder if he was still thinking about what had happened at school.

Leo blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, and looked at Rupert with a small pout.

"Butler Rupert... do you think Mom knows how to cook?" he suddenly asked.

The question caught the old man off guard.

He tilted his head, scratching it thoughtfully. "That’s... a difficult question to answer, young master. But if you’d like, I can ask Madam—"

"No!" Leo quickly shook his head. "I don’t want her to think I’m being demanding."

Rupert frowned in confusion. "But you haven’t demanded anything yet, young master. So how would that be a problem?"

Leo paused.

Then his shoulders slumped, and sadness quietly settled on his face.

"I know... but a part of me wants her to pack my lunch. You know... the kind with those fancy cartoon shapes and decorations."

Rupert’s expression changed instantly.

"Young master, don’t you like the food I prepare? Is it not to your taste? Should I change it? Just tell me—I’ll make it exactly how you like," he said, slightly panicked.

"No, no, no, Butler Rupert!" Leo said quickly, his eyes lighting up as he gave him a thumbs-up. "I love your food. It’s the best."

But as quickly as his smile appeared, it faded again.

"But... I want Mommy to pack my lunch... just like my friends’ moms do for them. They say their moms always know what they like."

Leo had grown up surrounded only by his father’s love, unaware of what it meant to have a mother figure.

But after starting school, he began noticing things—

How his friends’ mothers played with them, took them to the park, told them bedtime stories... and even hugged them to sleep.

At first, Leo had thought he didn’t need any of that.

His father’s love had always been enough.

But slowly, seeing how happy his friends were with both their parents...

a quiet longing had taken root in his heart.

Rupert stood there, speechless, his heart aching at the sight of the boy’s sadness.

He immediately made up his mind—

If that was what would make Leo happy, then he would learn it himself. Cartoon lunches, decorations... whatever it took.

While Rupert was already planning how to make it happen—

Ivy stood silently behind the door, having heard everything.

She remained there for a moment, unmoving.

Then quietly... she turned and walked away, choosing not to step inside.

***

[Kitchen Area]

"Oh my God... what is Madam doing in the kitchen?!"

Gasps spread like wildfire as every member of the kitchen staff peeked inside, whispering among themselves like they had just witnessed a rare celestial event.

Meanwhile, the head chef stood frozen in front of Ivy, looking like his entire career was flashing before his eyes.

"Madam... did I do something wrong?" James asked, his voice trembling. "If I did, please tell me. I’ll fix it I promise!"

He had been in charge of the kitchen ever since Ivy arrived, serving nothing but flawless meals. The man took immense pride in his work.

Which is exactly why this situation felt like the end of the world.

Ivy sighed softly, already sensing the chaos she had unintentionally caused.

"No, Mr. Chef," she said patiently. "You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just that... my son wants to eat food made by me."

Absolute silence fell outside the kitchen, but then one of the maids jumped in panic.

"What?! Madam wants to cook?!"

"Does that mean Chef James is getting fired?!"

"Are we next?!"

The whispers turned into full-blown panic.

One maid clutched another dramatically. "I’m too young to lose my job!"

Another gasped. "Should I start updating my résumé?!"

Ivy blinked.

...That escalated quickly.

She hadn’t meant to scare anyone. She just remembered what Leo had said—and decided to try, even if she had zero confidence in her cooking skills.

As for the "fancy cartoon lunch" part...

Let’s... survive basic cooking first.

Just then, Freda returned and immediately noticed the commotion outside the kitchen.

She frowned. "Why is everyone standing here instead of working?"

The moment the staff heard her voice, they rushed toward her like she was their last hope.

"Madam Freda! Are we all going to lose our jobs?!" one maid cried dramatically.

Freda blinked. "What? Why would anyone—"

"She told Chef James to leave!" another pointed inside.

Freda followed their gaze and froze.

Inside, James suddenly dropped to his knees.

"Madam!" he cried, his voice echoing like a tragic hero in a play.

Freda’s eyes widened. "Wait—what is happening?!" she rushed in.

Ivy turned, startled by the sudden entrance.

James, however, looked at Freda like salvation had arrived.

"Madam Freda, have I failed in my duties? Am I not good enough anymore? If I’ve made a mistake, please tell me—I’ll improve!" he said, practically on the verge of tears.

Freda: "???"

Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose.

"No, you didn’t do anything wrong," she said firmly.

James sniffled, blinking up at her. "Then... why are you asking me to leave, Madam?"

Because in his mind, there was only one explanation, and that was that he had messed up, badly. And now... the kitchen throne was being taken from him.

Ivy exhaled slowly.

Why does this feel like I just declared war instead of wanting to cook one meal?

Ivy took a deep breath and looked at the kneeling chef.

"Mr. James... please stand up," she said, already feeling a headache forming. "No one is getting fired. I just want to cook. That’s it."

James froze.

"Just... cook?" he repeated, as if trying to process something completely alien.

"Yes," Ivy replied. "For Leo."

That did it.

The man’s expression shifted from devastation... to deep emotional conflict.

On one hand, his job was safe.

On the other his kitchen... was under threat.