Chapter 37: Food War

Everyone left the set with smiles.

“What a productive day,” says Saori.

“Let’s hope it continues. You won’t have to delay then and you can finally debut on the screen.” I say.

“I hope so too hubby. Hey. Can we eat at a restaurant? It can be like a date!”

“Sure. Saori, why do you sound so excited, though? You act like I don’t take you to eat out.”

“After we got married, we never eat out…”

I cough at that statement. Did I even take her out when we weren’t married? Does hospital food and eating at her family’s house count? I’m horrible…

“Anyway! Let’s go here. According to the review sites, this place is excellent.”

It’s close as well. Praise the Author! I always believed in your blessings!

“This place looks nice. It looks a little fancy. We are wearing casual wear. Do you think we fit there?” says Saori.

“As far as I know. There’s no dress code for this restaurant.” I say.

After parking our car, we walk to the entrance. We greet the guard and he asks us if we reserved a table.

“We don’t have one. Is it full?”

“Sorr—,” says the security personnel when he spots Saori behind me. He doesn’t finish his sentence and guides us inside.

Good-looking people have it easy. I’m not complaining, though.

I realize now why the guard let us in. It’s packed with good-looking people. I recognize some of them. It seems this place restaurant is famous among celebrities. Even some idols with their managers. Saori must’ve looked like a celebrity to him. Well… she is one.

“Hubby… you see that woman there wearing a blue shirt? She was the lead actress of the last show I worked on. Marie Bennet.”

“Oh? The one you got injured on? I suppose I have to thank her later for making me meet you.”

“Thank her for injuring me? Should I also thank you then for being dumb?”

We laugh and enjoy ourselves. I sense some eyes directed at our table. Almost all of it goes to Saori. They must be scouts and other celebrities.

Hey back off. She’s part of my agency and she’s taken. I glance at them and they continue on with their meals and chats.

A waiter arrives at our table and gives us a menu.

“Sir and madam, what would you like to order?”

The menu is small. The steak looked pretty good, so I order that. Saori orders a pasta dish and we add some vegetables to our orders. Plus some ice cream for dessert.

“I have to watch what I eat after this,” says Saori.

“Why did you have two orders of ice cream? You even used me as an excuse,” I say.

“I wanted to try the different flavors. Can I also take some of your food? They do that in some shows I watch?”

“Why though?”

“Hubby, can I try it, please?”

I don’t get it? Does she want to be the annoying girl that takes her boyfriend’s food while saying she’s not hungry? She ordered too much dessert for that role, though.

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“Alright.”

Well, she’s being cute, so I’ll agree.

The food appears, and it looks good. Tasty. The prices here are a high but the food’s tasty.

Saori takes some of my steak. I cut them for her. She also starts feeding me some of her pasta.

“Hubby say ah.”

This is heaven. Remind me to eat out more. I copy her and try to feed her some steak.

“Honey say ah.”

She eats the food I gave her.

“You never call me that. Why are you being sweet suddenly?” says Saori.

“You don’t like it?” I say.

“Ah.”

Looks like she likes it. We continue with our sweet acts. Saori is so lovely. So lovely. In fact, my demonic spear is trying to ruin the atmosphere we created. I have shame. I won’t do that in public.

The dessert soon comes. Saori doesn’t share anymore. She even takes some of my ice cream. This woman sure loves her sweets.

“The dessert is very good. But the food you make at home is better,” says Saori.

Thank you very much. I’ll take the compliment.

“What!” a voice so loud everyone in the restaurant hears it. The voice came from the kitchen. We hear loud footsteps. An old man wearing a chef’s hat visits our table.

“Can you say that again you lad—WOW!” says the chef. He then rotates his whole body to face me.

“Say your insult to my face, young man!” says the chef.

I said nothing! The chef then throws his hat at me.

“How dare you disrespect my food? I challenge you to a food war!”

What is this?

“Chef, I didn’t say that. Your food was delicious!” I say.

He didn’t listen to me. Soon enough, I’m standing in front of a crowd of spectators. The chef is on the other side. We each have a pan, stove and food ingredients. Where did all of this come from? It even has a panel for judges!

“Hubby, I believe in you!” says Saori. She’s in the crowd. She’s the only one supporting me. The others are cheering on the chef. The chef’s fighting spirit materializes and becomes visible. What in the Author’s name is happening?

“The item is omelette. Let us begin!”

Who cares anymore! I whip something up. I try my best, but the result is a simple omelet. It looks pretty good though the egg’s color is just sublime. Might be the best omelette I’ve ever made.

“I’m finish—.”

“Done!”

The chef cuts me off. He finishes first and his omelette looks amazing. His presentation is better than mine. The judges take a bite.

“MAMAMIA!”

“The flavors are so amazing! I feel like I can fly towards the sky!”

“It cannot be? This feels better than sex with my wife!”

Hold up. What’s with that last reaction? Aren’t they being too dramatic? They’re all standing up and the chef’s omelette is gone from their plates. Not a single trace left. Do I even have a chance?

Let’s finish this. I give them my omelette and they give me a look of annoyance. Before trying my dish, they let out their complaints.

“For such mediocrity to hit my taste buds.”

“Can this dish make me fly? No? Why should I even bother?”

“This better be better than sex!”

Eat it first, at least! Third judge. Why am I competing against sex? After grumbling some more, they sample my dish.

“MAMAMIA! AND THE SISTER AS WELL!”

“The flavors are out of this world! I can fly to a different dimension!”

“How can this be? This is better than my wife cheating on me!”

There’s something wrong with this third judge!

In the end… I won.

Saori goes on stage and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ve lost… The hat passed down to me by my teacher is yours,” says the chef. His hands shake as he gives me the hat. He then falls to his knees.

The chef bows down to me. A puddle of water forms beneath him. A puddle made of tears.

[https://i.lensdump.com/i/1cxs9q.png]

This chef’s hat must mean a lot to this chef.

I’m sorry.

I’m keeping the hat, though.