Of course, things could not possibly be that simple.
The chef quickly turned his head toward Schiller's table, because there were two people at this table who had not touched their forks: Schiller and Jerome's twin brother.
The chef walked over.
"May I ask whether you two have any objections to this dish?" The chef's attitude was fairly amiable, but there was an unmistakable threat hidden within his smile, and his tone was somewhat aggressive.
Before Schiller could speak, Jerome's twin brother spoke first.
"No, the dish is excellent. I simply haven't finished my wine yet. I didn't expect your restaurant's service to be so efficient, and I am someone who prefers to savor wine slowly. My apologies."
The chef's expression stiffened for a moment, but he ultimately accepted the explanation. Schiller, however, realized that Jerome's twin brother was stalling for time. Why?
Just as the chef shifted his attention to Schiller, a sudden change erupted in the restaurant.
One diner, who had already eaten his own head three times, seemed to suddenly go mad. Rather than cutting off his own head again, he took out a dining knife, cut off the head of the person beside him, placed it on his own plate, and began devouring it in huge bites.
After finishing that head, he targeted the person on his right. Once he had cut off that person's head, he ate even faster.
And the person whose head had been cut off did not return.
Just as I thought, Schiller mused. This so-called eating oneself did not mean eating one's own head. It meant eating those of the same class as oneself—this group devouring itself.
Schiller also noticed that those who had finished their third heads were attacking people who were currently eating their third heads. Those who had