Only after the crowd outside gradually dispersed did Vanessa return to the Canteen.
She pulled the door open and immediately jumped in fright-Dorothea was standing right behind it.
It looked as though she had been eavesdropping for quite some time.
Vanessa stumbled back several steps and looked at Dorothea, only then noticing her utterly dejected expression.
"I didn't... I really didn't... My cooking just tasted a little strange sometimes. I've never blown up a kitchen..."
"Ahem, I had to give them an explanation, didn't I? Don't take it to heart." Vanessa felt rather embarrassed.
Dorothea had indeed heated a pot until it exploded, but it had only sprayed mush all over the ceiling. The pot flying off and shooting down a Steam Angel was nothing but a rumor distorted in the telling.
Stories like this always grew more outrageous as they spread. The last time Vanessa had gone out disguised as an elderly woman in a wheelchair, gamblers had even approached her, hoping she would bless their dice.
Only then had Vanessa learned that she was the Wheelchair Gambling God everyone was talking about. V, the name she had casually made up when visiting the casino, had already become a legend in Saint Clair.
"It's fine. Look on the bright side: you're a legend in Saint Clair now too."
Dorothea was filled with grief and indignation. She didn't want this sort of legend at all!
"Just think of it as a sacrifice for the faith. Don't worry, the Canteen won't forget your contribution!" Vanessa hurriedly consoled her. "Besides, Miss Crow is the one who's famous. What does that have to do with you, Dorothea?"
Dorothea thought about it and realized that was true. She had specifically covered her face when she first sneaked into the Canteen to cook. No matter