I Was Thinking Too Simply!

Pfft!

A dull thud of flesh hitting the table suddenly rang out in the spacious kitchen.

Am I... going to die? In the pitch-blackness of his vision, flickers of light continuously swept past, gathering into scene after scene that replayed everything since he had transmigrated.

Chiba had collapsed face-first onto the dining table. His entire face had turned bluish, his eyes were slightly open and dull, his lips parted, and his body seemed to be twitching faintly.

Across from him, Hirohiko had likewise collapsed onto the table in the same position. His face was blue, his eyes slightly open and almost completely rolled white, his lips parted, and his body was twitching as well.

Between them sat a pot of bubbling oil that had turned purplish and was giving off wisps of blue-green smoke. Chunks of unidentifiable ingredients rolled about in the purple oil. The color of this hot pot was the very definition of dark cuisine.

Beside the pot were two bowls that had just stopped spinning, each containing half a bowl of purple soup. Near the bowls were the two boys' hands, slightly drawn back. Their chopsticks lay scattered off to the side in a messy heap.

The entire kitchen could practically be described as a poisoning scene.

"Hey... Chiba, are you... all right...?"

At that moment, Hirohiko, whose eyes had completely turned into blank white circles, lightly moved his parted lips and mumbled those indistinct words.

But Chiba, collapsed across from him, showed no response whatsoever. Even his twitching seemed to have weakened considerably.

"Hey! Chiba, hang in there! Don't let this cooking defeat you!"

When he received no answer from Chiba, Hirohiko immediately panicked. He knew the power of this dark cuisine all too well. Not only had he completely lost his sense of taste, his