One Meal, Coming Right Up!
Benita felt as if she had been frozen in place by a legendary Body Immobilization Technique; her entire body was stiff and she couldn't move, not even speak. She could only watch silently as the man who had inexplicably barged into her home.
The other person was slender, about 1.85 meters tall, and dressed in a gorgeous evening suit. His face was covered by a half-mask that looked as pale as bones. He looked more like an elegant gentleman preparing to attend a masquerade ball than a burglar.
"Madam, don't be nervous. It's after get off work hours now. I just want to eat something good before I go back to hell."
"Off work? Hell? What is he talking about?" Benita, who was secretly observing the man, was startled by his sudden words, her heart skipping a beat. Just as she was pondering the deeper meaning of his words, he suddenly said:
"Madam, I must say your kitchen utensils are very incomplete, and your knives are poorly maintained. Do you really use them properly?"
The man, with a poet's aria-like tone, lamented the plight of the kitchen utensils, as he took out a piece of beef and gently pounded it with a small hammer he had bought but hardly ever used, muttering to himself:
"Seriously, you never use a small pounder when cooking beef? The force with which you pound the beef is crucial for making a delicious steak. If you add ingredients like onions and honey, you can turn ordinary beef into a melt-in-your-mouth texture like premium Wagyu. But for everyday cooking, you don't need to go that far. A proper chewiness allows you to fully enjoy the texture of tearing into it."
"This man... is teaching me how to cook?" A sense of absurdity flooded Benita's mind, suppressing her initial fear.
"Oh, it's still quite cold. Although I prefer Clear Soup, I'll make Cream of Mushroom Soup to fit the local custom..."
The man proceeded to explain the cooking steps and ingredients, occasionally making sarcastic remarks about the wear and tear on the kitchen utensils. This made Benita start to wonder if she really did not know how to cook at all, as he claimed.
A full-time Housewife who can't cook?
This is an insult!
But the alluring aroma made her mouth water uncontrollably.
She desperately wanted to swallow her saliva, but her stiff body made even that difficult, and so the saliva uncontrollably dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
"Aaaaaah! Just kill me already!"
Benita screamed inwardly, but the man's movements remained elegant and skillful. After more than an hour of agonizing Benita, a sumptuous dinner was finally served.
Cream of Mushroom Soup with pan-seared veal, served with broccoli and potato salad, is a fairly standard Victorian Dinner. However, the other person seemed to have used many cooking methods that Victorians don't usually use, giving this seemingly ordinary dish an unexpectedly enticing aroma.
Benita watched as the other person casually plated the food and then walked behind her, while she could hear the soft yet highly noticeable sounds of eating.
"..."
The sound of Cream of Mushroom Soup sliding down the throat, the sound of beef being torn and chewed, the sound of mashed potatoes mixed with crisp vegetables...
These sounds, which should have been barely perceptible, seemed to be right next to Benita, drilling into her ears and wildly stimulating her stomach.
This ordeal lasted for a good ten minutes, and only when the sound of soup being swallowed did it finally come to an end.
The figure reappeared in Benita's sight. He put the used dishes into the sink and quickly washed them. The White Gloves he had been wearing remained spotless.
Just as Benita's thoughts were in turmoil, she suddenly heard the sound of Door Lock coming from the direction of the entrance. She didn't know why her hearing was so good today, but this was clearly not the time to think about such things.
"Oh no! Damn it! Jones, don't come in! You shouldn't be back at this time!" Benita tried to scream, but no sound came out of her throat. Her mind was filled with the story of the victim who was killed because she returned home during the robbery, and her breathing became rapid.
"Honey, I'm home. What do you want to eat today?"
Her husband's voice came from the doorway, but Benita's eyes were fixed on the man turning around as he put the cutlery back in its place.
"We're doomed! Oh, God! Someone save us!" Benita's eyes were filled with despair, but the next moment, the man simply smiled slightly and said:
"It seems I should be going now. Thank you for the ingredients, beautiful lady."
Listening to the other person's tone, which sounded like reciting poetry, Benita watched in horror as he suddenly opened his arms, as if lifting a shadow, and pulled out a cloak woven from darkness from behind. As the two cloaks enveloped his body, the man vanished right before her eyes...
"Oh, darling, so you're here. I thought you weren't home..."
At the same time, Jones Nordman walked into the restaurant, saw his wife, and immediately came over, saying with surprise:
"Oh my goodness, this tastes absolutely wonderful! What did you make today?"
Benita suddenly felt her body relax, her stiff body almost collapsing to the ground. She was surprised to find that she had somehow regained her mobility. She quickly wiped away the drool that had dripped onto her clothes, turned around, and said:
"No, nothing, just trying... yes, just trying out a new trick!"
"That's something to look forward to!" Jones, oblivious to his wife's unusual behavior, turned and went back to the door to change his clothes.
Benita carefully moved her body, which was a little sore from standing stiffly for more than an hour, and walked to the pot. If it weren't for the fact that there were still quite a few ingredients in the pot, she would have even doubted whether what she had seen before was just an illusion!
Benita plated the man's leftover food and realized it was just enough for two people for dinner, which made her wonder if it was just a coincidence.
But thinking about it now was pointless. She nervously served the dishes, her mind still replaying the surreal events.
She didn't plan to tell her husband what had happened that day, because it would only make her look like a mental patient. No one would believe that they had encountered a visitor from hell who could Body Immobilization Technique and disappear at will, nor would they think that someone had broken into a mansion in a wealthy neighborhood just to borrow ingredients to cook a meal.
"Who exactly is that person? What is the job he mentioned? And what about hell...?" Benita's mind was in utter chaos until her husband's scream interrupted her thoughts:
"Oh my God! This is absolutely the best beef I've ever eaten in my life! Honey, how did you do this? It's so much better than that damn hotel! Little Jimmy and Little Hannah will be back tomorrow night, make another serving then so they can try it too!"
Listening to her husband's exaggerated sentiments, Benita picked up a slice of beef and put it into her mouth with a heavy heart.
In that instant, all the wild thoughts vanished, replaced by only one idea—
"Should I make notes now, writing down everything I still remember? But... can I really recreate this taste?"
I've talked about Weird Tale many times, but I'll say it again.
First, the influence of legends on Weird Tale: Innate Supernatural Tale Acquired Supernatural Tale. Innate ghost stories are those that exist before they become Weird Tale, so Weird Tale are greatly influenced by legends. For example, if people believe Thor is lecherous, then Thor's appearance would imply he is lecherous. Acquired Supernatural Tale, whether ancient Vengeful Spirit ascending to higher realms or modern trash-like beings in the Infinite City, all have a "self" before becoming Weird Tale. They are much less influenced by legends. Even if all "believers" think you should be lecherous, you don't have to be. The more you conform to the legend, the more power you can draw from it.
Secondly, Role-playing Supernatural Tale: Given the corresponding Tag, actively imitating or impersonating long-standing Weird Tale or even myths can relatively easily accumulate Supernatural Tale Entry. However, the power of a single Supernatural Tale Itself is limited; the more people impersonate it, the smaller the share each person receives. Furthermore, it may activate the Weird Tale "archetype." Therefore, if impersonating an existing Weird Tale, one inevitably faces two problems—competition among those impersonating the same Weird Tale, and the awakening of the original Weird Tale. Mysterious Reader can easily compare this to the mutual plundering of characteristics between those following the same path and the resurgence of Great Existence at the top of the hierarchy.