As Monica walked into the longhouse, she could hear the rhythmic clanging of metal against metal, this time much louder and it felt like the metal was singing. She made her way towards Morus’ room and pushed open the door.

  “Brother?” She peeked her head inside, the room was dark and it smelled like herbs. She sniffed the air, it still only smelled like herbs. “Must still be at the forge.”

  She contemplated between going to the forge or returning to her room, and made up her mind. The girl walked down the hallway and turned into the Dining Hall. The moment she crossed the Dining Hall and was about to enter the other hallway, something urged her to come back, a pull.

  It was the wafting scent of something aromatic, originating from what she assumed was the kitchen. She realized something, the sound of the rhythmic metal hitting metal from the forge was dampened here, there was a different symphony going on and it came from beyond the kitchen.

  She stood in front of the threshold of the kitchen, a simple curtain separating the chef’s world with where she was standing. The curtain itself was snow white, it’s clear that it had been there and in use for many years, yet its cleanliness spoke worlds. It was free from oil and stains and had no visible stray strands which suggested the Chef keeps it clean, or there was magic at use.

  She swallowed a gulp of saliva, perhaps of nervousness in entering a Chef’s kitchen after watching too many shows of a certain British chef, or perhaps it was the aroma enticing the worm in her stomach. Taking a moment to resolve herself, she parted the curtains and stood at the threshold, weakly calling out to the inside.

  “Hi!?” Her voice drowned out by the cacophony of noises inside. Then. Silence.

  The spatulas in the pots stopped stirring. The kitchen knives galloping across the chopping board paused mid-air as they watched the intruder. The only sound remaining was the sizzling of ingredients meeting oil.

  “How may I help you, young miss?” The voice of a young man resonated within the room.

  Monica’s eyes snapped towards the speaker, he was dressed in a crimson robe with golden threading, a bandana that shared the same theme with his clothes wrapped around his head, a long ponytail flowed down his back, ending at waist-height. The man had his back turned towards her, but Monica was under no impression that her intrusion was not felt.

  “Uhm… Hi! I’m Nichole. It smelled really good and I thought I should introduce myself to you, since we haven’t met!” Monica said, her heart beating hard and fast, not knowing if she’ll get scolded or kicked out the next moment.

  The Chef turned his head a little, eyes still on whatever he was doing. Monica could see the man had a strong jawline and angular cheeks just from his side-profile. Then the man turned more, and his eyes burned themselves into Monica’s.

  His eyes were like the embodiment of flame and everything hot. Scarlet pupils and his intense gaze telling the story of a man working his passion and loving every moment of it. His brows were thick, but were as sharp as the knives that he wields. The intensity radiating off of him like a heatwave was focused on Monica at this instant.

  Monica gulped again as she suddenly became the victim of such intense energy.

  “Would you like a snack? Are you hungry?” The intensity subsided as the man wore a smile on his face.

  “Can I? Also, may I come in?” The girl asked sheepishly, while internally scolding herself for wandering off again.

  “I’m glad you asked. Yes, you may. Come stand beside me.” The Chef turned his attention back towards his cooking.

  Monica calmly made her way towards the Chef, taking in the sights of the kitchen. She spotted the door diagonally across the room immediately, which must lead outside. Against the wall beside the door sat a clay pipe reminiscent of the one in the bathrooms, with water dripping down constantly into a large clay vat, a wooden lid with an opening for the water covered the vat. Beside the vats and against the wall was a brick-structure, with round openings on the top and four arch-shaped openings facing her, the Chef stood in front of one of the cooking spots.

  The kitchen was well-lit, illuminated by rays of sunlight beaming down from the slight gaps in the ceiling, as well as slightly elevated windows made for both ventilation and lighting. Seeing a few unlit lanterns hanging by the walls, Monica knew that even without the sun, the kitchen would still function well.

  Looking towards the middle of the room, she could see two long wooden counters with a walkway between them, and she could see ingredients which were mid-process as well as processed ones. Of the things she could see, it was easy to tell that the kitchen was well-organized and designed for multiple people working in it at the same time.

  Before she could take in more, she was already standing beside the Chef, wary to not be in his way. “What are you making?” As she got closer, the aroma of something familiar, of something being fried assaulted her nose, it was the smell of potatoes.

  “Fried potatoes. Would you like some?” A bowl of steaming, golden potato wedges floated around and behind him over to Monica. It looked amazing with some of the crispy edges flaking, the flakes of herbs embedded on the faces of the wedges, and honestly, it smelled even better than its visual appearance.

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  Monica took the bowl but it wasn’t hot to the touch, then she gingerly took one of the golden delights and slowly put it inside her mouth, not forgetting to cool it down a little by blowing.

  Explosion.

  Crunching through the crispy exterior, the flavorful mix of herbs and fat and other stuff she could not name fought their way into her tastebuds. Her mouth overflowed with saliva, and tears started to form. Then it hit her. The spice! It was the heat of chili! It was delicious, but it was also spicy!

  “Hiss! I need water! It’s good! But it is so spicy!” Monica looked up at the man beside her, he could pass off as a porcelain doll with how unblemished and pale his skin was.

  The man chuckled as he shook his head in amusement, he twirled a finger in the air towards the direction of the water vat. The lid lifted and moved backwards, then a clean bowl dipped down and scooped up water before floating towards them, the lid moving back to its original position.

  Monica quickly found an empty spot and set the bowl of wedges down, then held the bowl of water with two hands before she gulped it down.

  “As expected, you can’t handle your spice.” Once Monica was done drinking, the Chef took a step away from Monica, and bowed in style, with his lead, every floating spatula and knife did the same, “My name is Jin. At your service.”

  Monica’s eyes were red, not from anger or embarrassment, but from the spiciness of whatever she ate, she looked at Jin with pleading eyes, “Ish shtill burning.”

  Another bowl of water sent Monica's way, but instead of landing in her hand, the water poured out into the bowl she was holding. “Sand queue.” She lisped, “Pwease don’d do id again.”

  “Haha! It’s just been so long since I pranked someone, I couldn’t help it!” His voice is energetic and passionate, like a trickster finally finding a worthy target.

  With the pain suppressed by the water she drank, Monica spoke again, “Did you know I was coming? And don’t do this to my brother, he is even worse than me with spicy food.”

  “I will take your advice to heart, young miss. Let’s just say that you look like you’re the curious type who can be lured in by food. And it was only a matter of when, not if.”

  Monica looked unimpressed, and turned her eyes towards what Jin was doing, specifically the wok with golden liquid bubbling in front of them.

  “Deep fry huh?” She then looked at the ingredients being prepared to the side, there were large chilis and okras cut open and deseeded, and thick slices of eggplants. On another chopping board was a thick layer of minced meat.

  “Yes. You’ve probably never tried it before, but it is something we’ve grown to love over the years.”

  “Looks like it’s going to be an amazing dinner! I won’t want to stay and bother you further!” Then she made her way back the way she came.

  “Wait.”

  Monica halted, and turned around at Jin. “Hm?”

  The bowl of wedges floated into her hands as the girl looked at Jin confused.

  “Take this to your brother and the Chief, they’re right outside.” He points at the other door with his thumb, “Only the first one you took was laced with spice.”

  “Meanie! But thanks!” Monica pushed the door open, and she could hear the kitchen bursting back into life behind her, and the clanging of metal in front of her, until the door closed.

  It had been a long while since Morus and Chief Ata wrapped up their conversation. Now, the young man, wearing an apron passed to him by the Chief, was standing in close proximity to the old man as he was forging something. His apron was rather clean and devoid of signs of usage when compared to what Chief Ata was wearing. The Chief’s brown apron was covered in soot in most areas, if the inner-side of the apron wasn’t brown, Morus would have sworn the Chief’s apron is a black one.

  Morus raised an eyebrow when he spotted Monica exit from the door that led to the kitchen, and was about to look away when he saw the bowl she was holding.

  Chief Ata was just setting aside the short blade that he had been working on when Monica appeared. The old man shouted jovially, “Nichole! I see you’ve met Jin!”

  “Hi Chief Ata!” Monica bowed with the bowl in both hands. “Snacks?” she offered.

  “Perfect timing, I was getting hungry!” Chief Ata wiped his brow with his glove still on, leaving a trail of soot on his forehead. Realizing what he had done, he took off his gloves and gingerly took a potato wedge from the bowl.

  Morus smiled at Monica and also took a piece from the bowl, he asked, “Did you have fun with Ban?”

  His sister nodded enthusiastically, “I’ll tell you more later! How about you? You enjoyed playing with fire?”

  To which, Chief Ata laughed, “Haha! Your brother insisted that he shouldn’t just in case he broke something. Have you been feeding him properly, child? You didn’t steal any of his food? Look at how pale he is.”

  Morus chuckled, “You jest, Chief. This is a condition she has no control over.”

  Chief Ata cocked an eyebrow as he looked at Morus, then at Monica. “See my point? He’s always like this?”

  “You have no idea!” Monica seemed to share a moment with the old Chief Ata as she giggled along. “He doesn’t know how to have fun!”

  Morus looked at the two who bonded instantly and sighed in defeat. “Thank you for your time today, Chief. It’s been an eye opening experience for me. Would it be alright if I joined you in the next few days?”

  “Hah! I’m always welcome to get a bellows boy!” He slapped Morus on the back, as the backpack was now placed against the wall in a corner.

  Morus didn’t so much as flinch from that, he just smiled and took off his apron, then went to pick up his backpack.

  Monica lifted the bowl towards Chief Ata, “You want more, Chief Ata?”

  The old man shook his hand, “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have more during dinner. These old bones need to rest a little. See you two at dinner!”

  Monica then pulled back the bowl and looked at her brother, “Brother?”

  Morus nodded, and the siblings made their way towards Monica’s room.

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