Hm. Shards of frying pans are scattered all over the floor.
Dangerous.
Was it really right to throw that at the wall just because his hand got a little hot?
As expected, Mr. Heathcliff's temper is impossible to predict.
"...This restaurant smells like mold and stale grease, as if it hasn't been cleaned for at least 140 days."
One hundred and forty... no, what the hell, how do you even know that?
"It may actually be safer from a hygiene standpoint to cook outside."
Is that so. I'd only thought it was a restaurant that had gone bust and been neglected for a long time, but 140 days... this is a lot worse than I thought.
"I want to do it too, cooking!!!"
"Kkokeekekek!!!!"
On one side, Ms. Don Quixote is throwing a tantrum at Mr. Gregor, begging him to let her cook, and on the other, the raw chickens are running rampant... what a total disaster.
"
"....."
"
"...You can hear that?"
"
"Hmm, interesting. It may be an effect caused by the resonance between the Golden Boughs gathered so far and Mr. Dante's head."
So... that's how it is. I kind of get it, but I also kind of don't.
As expected, the way Ms. Faust speaks is hard to interpret because the language level and amount of information are both so high.
Well, setting that aside...
"Kkoke, kkokeekek!!!"
Round two, huh.
*
"Hm..."
Uh...
"Could someone explain this food to me?"
"Simple!"
...There's one thing all uses of the word "simple" have in common.
That is, the words that follow are never simple at all.
"Manager sir! Chocolate is quite delicious, isn't it? So I put it in."
Yes, exactly like that! A parade of words I can't make heads or tails of!!
"And since I dislike potatoes, I put in something similar-looking, oranges instead."
Oh, God. Please...
"What? Who gave you permission to leave out the potatoes? What a ridiculous bastard."
"
"In my hometown, we used to tear chickens apart by hand and eat them. It truly is a delicacy."
Please...
"
"Now that I look at it, this guy doesn't even have a mouth and he's just nitpicking. Do you even know how to eat this?"
"...Mr. Heathcliff, please shut up."
"What...?"
"I'm telling you to shut up because it's obvious you're the one who messed this up."
"
"....."
"Ha... just keep cooking. Please, in a normal direction."
Hah, I feel a little better now. There's a limit to how much nonsense I can listen to.
*
Anyway, one way or another, after that there were no more interruptions, and Mr. Gregor's team, with all its noise and trouble, finished cooking in no time.
"<.....>"
And the shocking result, one I'd never want to see again, left me sighing first.
Am I really supposed to eat that? Seriously?
What exactly do they think I am...
"...I'm going to pass on tasting this food."
"Why?! We worked so hard on it!"
"....."
""
"You won't know until you try it! It might even taste good!!"
...?
Wait.
"Ms. Don Quixote. Just in case, have any of you actually tasted it yourselves?"
"....."
"....."
"....."
"....."
Oh, that's a clean sweep.
"You're supposed to have the food tasted, but what are you doing if you haven't even eaten it yourselves!"
"Mmm... the clock bastard is saying something sensible for once. Who wants to try it?"
The atmosphere grew even more resolute than it had before the fight.
Please, can't you people do this sort of thing in advance? My head's starting to hurt. If this goes wrong, I feel like I'm going to collapse...
"...Don't look at me like that..."
Mr. Yi Sang wouldn't say anything useful even if he ate it. Skip.
"If only I could sacrifice this one body and turn the world's distortion back to normal...!"
No, Ms. Don Quixote, that is absolutely not the kind of resolve one has when tasting food.
So you did know your own cooking tastes like absolute garbage?
"Damn it! This is frustrating, someone just try it already!"
Splat!
Mr. Heathcliff shoved the food into someone's mouth while holding it in his hand.
"....."
Mr. Meursault!!!!!!
Mr. Meursault stood there frozen, not moving an inch.
"Did he just die standing up?"
...It was obviously a joke, but after the earlier experience of simply eating food and passing out, it didn't feel like a joke at all.
He didn't really die, did he?
"This time, I truly did nothing. If Mr. Vergilius should happen to hold me responsible..."
And then, very slowly, Mr. Meursault turned his head toward Mr. Heathcliff.
...He was alive. Thank God, seriously.
"I..."
"W-what?"
"Overall, the seasoning is wrong. The chicken was not cooked properly, so the fishy smell and stale odor were not removed, and the sauce is too thick, so it lacks depth of flavor. The chicken was chopped up too unevenly, failing to stimulate the user's appetite."
Wh, what.
"What... are you insane? Are you done talking?"
"No."
Mr. Meursault answered Mr. Heathcliff's words lightly, then drew in a breath.
"It is not over."
.....
"The seasoning combination is a complete mess. My mouth, after eating it, is also a swamp. You lacked sugar, so you cut and soaked in two and a half spoonfuls of butter, yet my mouth could not endure it."
"S-s-sorry..."
So the two and a half spoonfuls of butter were you.
"Yi Sang, whether you are living up to your name by making strange food strangely, or whether this is a thing meant to damage my teeth, my story ends here. That is all, Yi Sang."
Whoa... that rap is insane.
"...There is no excuse."
If you know that, then fix it. You're a genius, aren't you!
"Wait, is he... is he possessed by something?"
"The more ordinary people are told in detail, the less they seem to grasp the core. So until now, I had no intention of speaking at length."
So the food was shocking enough to break that thought process.
...Fair enough.
"And..."
"Then this time, Mr. Meursault can cook!"
Before Mr. Meursault could turn his arrow toward Mr. Hong Lu, he clapped quickly and shifted everyone's attention.
That guy really is surprisingly quick when it counts.
"We'll help you in every way we can!"
"...I am not particularly fond of having assistants."
"Don't worry! We won't disappoint you!"
Ms. Don Quixote rolled up her sleeves and shouted brightly.
There's no way she can't handle a task she's been given, right?
"Hmm... cooking is not my specialty, but if that is your wish, I shall gladly do it."
Then this team is more or less settled...
"
As Mr. Dante said, it seems like a good time to turn my attention elsewhere for a moment.
But the atmosphere there is... pretty brutal.
"W-well, but..."
Hm?
"How are you supposed to make something that's salty but bland, not too sweet but still sweet, not overcooked but also a little burnt?!"
Uh... there are actually dishes like that at truly gifted restaurants... Were they making her do that?
Unable to endure any more of this tyranny, Sinclair angrily threw down the apron he was wearing.
"I can't do this! It might honestly be easier to beat Mr. Heathcliff at arm wrestling like Ms. Ishmael said!"
"Th-that was just a joke..."
You... said that as a joke? To that state of a person?
"Statistically speaking, that would be as absurd as saying Mr. Sinclair's height could grow by more than 5 cm within a week..."
"Shut up! They're all the same!!!"
Way to go, Sinclair! You can do it!
"To whine over advice of that level... how weak and pathetic."
"If you're that confident... why don't you do it yourself, Ms. Otis?"
Sinclair squeezed his eyes shut and spoke in an increasingly low voice.
He still doesn't have the courage to talk back to Ms. Otis, huh.
"...It can't be helped."
Oh, really?
"Move aside, defeated rabble. So, in the end, I must step in."
These people naturally even snatch up the chef's hat. They're more serious about cooking than I expected... no, if that were true, they should've done it themselves earlier!
...Anyway, the kitchen, now under Mr. Meursault's command, began to run with disciplined efficiency.
"Mr. Meursault! Look at this! I cut it into a cute star shape..."
"Potatoes must be cut neatly into squares. They must be cooked evenly."
Square... wouldn't that make them cook unevenly? If you want even cooking, shouldn't they be spherical?
"But...!!"
"Square. Five centimeters."
"....."
What of it. At least if they're following the recipe perfectly, it should be better than before.
"Oh~ So that's how you cook potatoes~"
"Did you seriously think they were harvested already roasted and crispy?"
Mr. Hong Lu really might have thought that, honestly... no way...
"You're treating me like an idiot...!"
Oh, you noticed?
"I know that when the time comes, ripe potato fruit falls from the tree."
Well, there it is.
"....."
"Pfft, I'm joking, Mr. Heathcliff."
"Huh? Why are you suddenly holding a tenderizing mallet..."
There was direct conversation between Mr. Hong Lu and Mr. Heathcliff, but I'll refrain from going into it.
Is this team really going to be okay...?