Glad To Be Of Service [✔]

👨‍🍳 08: Don't Give A Frappe

The hours I plan to spend resting are quickly wasted as I blend into the wall. But how can I be ignored when Mr. Jinn is with me?

Curious glances are sent in my direction, making me feel like a spectacle, especially in this part of the hall. The number of guests is way larger than before with countless unfamiliar faces but their appearance resembles to be more... human.

Unlike the other side of the room, there are no one-eyed creatures, no tails, no irregular size physiques, or anything disturbing. No wonder they prepared ordinary food this time.

Yet despite the difference, there are still some who interact with each other, regardless of the difference in forms. The most eye-catching one is probably the couple dancing at the center.

The ambient lights from the chandeliers descend on those skeletal wings tuck on her back. Shiny streaks of ebony hair flow up to her waist, swaying as she moves like a temptress. Notwithstanding the exceptional build of her partner — who looks like an ordinary man aside from his height — her presence overwhelms him.

Even when her face is out of view, two sets of horns peek out of her head. The lower one tilts in a single direction while the upper curves like those of a ram. 

She finally twirls and I catch the color of her eyes. It is entirely black — so noticeable regardless of our distance.

Creepy? Hell yeah.

But does it surripise me? No.

I do not even flinch knowing there are no whites on her eyes. Instead, a sigh broke out my lips. I'm afraid I'm starting to get used to these bullshits.

If not for the food earlier, nothing can shock me anymore at this point.

Suddenly, one of the workers approaches Mr. Jinn. He holds out his hand as his fingers form different gestures. Another one arrives and did the same exact thing.

It reminds me of sign language but Mr. Jinn replies with his voice instead.

"I understand. I'll ask first."

The two men left. Mr. Jinn swivels to me with a grim face.

"What's wrong?" I can't help but say.

"We had a predicament in the kitchen and we might need your assistance. I hope that'll be fine, Mr. Schneider?"

"Of course." My lips hook on a corner. Finally. I rather slave myself to work than stand here and be bored out of my mind.

It's much worse than I estimated. How can someone, who cooks for a living, forget to turn on the food warmer?

This is such an amateur mistake to come from the person who is hailed as the next big chef in the country.

Has he learned that food must be kept away from room temperature to avoid bacteria that can spoil the dishes? Does he know that a good catering company must abide by this common rule to serve quality service and ensure the safety of the client's stomach?