In the middle of the kitchen stood a large sink. At its center was an exhaust vent like a flue, and beside it was the table where the chef processed ingredients. The table connected to an unknown black hole outside, from which one wrinkled, washed-clean pig after another emerged.
The chef stood before the transport portal, a huge cleaver in its grease-stained hand. Every strike landed precisely on a pig's head.
The severed pig heads fell into the black sludge on the floor and slowly dissolved, as though that patch of black sludge were a swamp capable of swallowing all things.
Though the puppet chef's hands never stopped moving, its head was turned toward the other side.
Judging by the direction it faced, it was likely talking to the maid whose head had extended into the main hall.
There were many cabinet-like furnishings in the kitchen as well, but all of them were covered in grease and dark red bloodstains.
To Angel, this kitchen was simply bizarre.
First of all, having a kitchen right beside the main hall was already strange enough. Stranger still, separated by nothing more than a curtain, the two spaces seemed to be entirely different worlds.
The main hall was somewhat gaudy, but even to an untrained eye, it could at least be called magnificent and resplendent. Yet the kitchen beside it was filthier and more horrifying than a foul ditch covered in grease.
How had Black Tea Earl ever thought to place such wildly different styles of rooms together?
Absurd, contradictory, and filled with strangeness—was that Black Tea Earl's idea? Or was this simply the norm in the Teapot Kingdom?
As Angel observed the kitchen and silently mocked it, Rabbit Chacha leaned close to his ear and whispered, "We got lucky. The tea servants are