This was far too bizarre, so in the end, Duncan still couldn't bring himself to drink that bowl of fish soup.
After all, whenever he thought of Miss Doll's head bobbing and rolling around in the soup pot, he felt this dinner was racing headlong toward The Grudge and Final Destination—though Alice's actual style was absurdly comedic, dropping her head into a pot was still a little too horrifying...
Miss Doll looked a little hurt. Looking at the food Duncan had set aside, she clutched the lace trim of her dress with both hands. "Captain, are you angry?"
Duncan looked at the doll with utter physical and mental exhaustion. "If there's anything making you unhappy on the ship, you can tell me directly..."
"Huh? There isn't..."
"Then try not to go into the kitc—" Duncan spoke casually, but quickly noticed Alice's increasingly dejected expression. In the end, he helplessly shook his head and changed course. "Forget it. Your intentions were good, and I'm actually very happy. But cooking... if you're not proficient, accidents can happen. Once you get more familiar with it, it'll be fine."
Alice immediately perked up. "Then I can keep trying in the future?"
Duncan held it in for a long time before finally nodding. "...Just be careful."
He had thought it over: this Cursed Doll clearly couldn't stand idling away her days aboard the Lost Homeland. Perhaps she really had some kind of "nature" that required her to do things on this ship before she could feel at ease. And she was an independent individual with thoughts and a personality. Duncan felt he couldn't keep treating the doll by discouraging her forever.
Compared to that, letting Alice help in the kitchen was better than letting her keep picking fights with ropes, anchor cables, and cannonballs—at least