Five days later—Saturday night.
Damien had spent the last several days fine-tuning his routine for the evaluation. The company building had been packed all week—every practice room booked, every hallway teeming with tense trainees trying to watch their rivals and outclass each other.
After two failed attempts at securing a room, he gave up and practiced at home instead, dragging his small mirror to the living room and making do with his scuffed setup and limited space.
Now, standing in front of his open fridge, Damien stared at the shelves and sighed.
Completely empty.
Not even a lone expired yogurt or a sad, shriveled green onion.
Guess I have to go out... But I really do want to cook something. I'll buy what I need for the next few weeks.
Grabbing his hoodie from the back of a chair, Damien headed out into the cool evening air, not forgetting to bring a grocery bag with him.
This is what I get for forgetting to stock up, he mused.
His stomach gave a low growl of protest. It looked like a simple grocery run had become an urgent mission.
Inside the brightly lit supermarket, Damien grabbed a basket and navigated the aisles with practiced ease. The warm, familiar scent of produce and baked goods was comforting. It had been a while since he had time to cook properly. Cooking was one of the few hobbies that grounded him, a little piece of normalcy amidst his now hectic life. He reached for a bundle of crisp green onions and a firm head of cabbage.
Should I make some stew? I'll be able to stretch it out for the next few days.
System: [How about some protein, host? From my knowledge, eggs are easy to cook, especially when you want something quick.]
As he examined the pack of eggs, his thoughts wandered to the last time he truly indulged in cooking. That memory drew a small smile to his face: he had practically ambushed the head chef at his family's mansion to teach him how to cook.
It was a few years ago, back when Damien was still new to living in that opulent estate. The kitchen had been forbidden territory for the young master of the house, but he wouldn't accept no for an answer. He had wanted to bake Lukas's favourite lemon tarts to try and lure him into playing with him.
He'd cornered the head chef, Ernesto, in the pantry and refused to budge until the man gave him a lesson. The poor chef had thrown his flour-dusted hands in the air and relented after Damien threatened to start seasoning dishes behind his back. The result: Damien learned to chop, sauté, and bake under the tutelage of one of the finest chefs in Europe. The recollection made him chuckle. Who would've thought the serious, barrel-chested chef could be so easily worn down by his persistence?
System: [Host, you've been smiling at the egg section for some time now. Do you require assistance choosing an egg brand?]
Damien quickly snapped out of it and cleared his throat softly.
I was just thinking about an old memory...
After wandering through the store, he finally had everything he needed. Damien headed to the checkout counter and exchanged polite smiles with the cashier who rang up his items, then finally stepped outside with the bags in his hands
He somewhat felt content. He could already imagine a quiet night cooking and perhaps doing a bit more practice before heading to bed. However, his stomach had other plans. It let out a loud gurgle at the mere thought of waiting another hour to prepare dinner. Damien stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk and sighed.
"Alright, alright, I get it." Home was a fifteen-minute walk, and hunger was making him light-headed now.
His eyes darted across the street to a familiar neon sign: a 24-hour convenience store. He hesitated only for a second. Cooking could wait; a quick snack could not. With a decision made, Damien found himself crossing the road. The convenience store's door chimed as he entered, a rush of cool air-conditioned breeze hitting him. The place was quiet at this hour, just a couple of customers wandering the aisles. Damien made a beeline for the instant noodle section. His green eyes scanned the colourful array of cup ramyeon and bowl noodles.
"Spicy seafood or kimchi flavor…" he murmured, torn between options as he crouched down to examine the labels.
In the end, he plucked a cup of spicy seafood ramyeon from the shelf. Besides, if he got hungry after practice later tonight, he had the ingredients to cook something.
Moments later, hot water from the dispenser was flooding the cup, and the rich, savory aroma of broth filled the store's little dining corner. While the noodles steeped, Damien absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the plastic table, gazing out the window at the darkening street.
When the noodles were ready, he peeled back the lid, letting out a satisfied hum as steam wafted up to his face. Carrying his food to the seating area near the window, Damien looked for an empty spot to sit. Most of the seats were vacant, save for one other occupied by a lone figure in a black hoodie, head lowered over… was that a bento box?
Damien's steps slowed as he recognized the strands of fiery red hair poking out from under the hoodie and the sharp line of a jaw visible as the person tilted their head. The guy was poking listlessly at a half-eaten convenience store bento with chopsticks, rice grains and bits of egg rolling around. Though the hoodie shadowed much of his face, Damien could tell who it was right away—he'd spent enough time around that particular troublemaker to recognize him anywhere.
"Li Xingyuan?" Damien blurted out.
The figure's head snapped up. Under the harsh white lighting, Li Xingyuan's eyes went wide like a deer caught in headlights. He nearly dropped his chopsticks. "Damien?" he responded, equally astonished. There was a heartbeat of mutual confusion before Li Xingyuan broke into a grin, his intense sharp eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, this is unexpected."