"Wait."
Douglas stopped him and took a thick notebook out of the bag he carried.
"I brought you something new this time, too."
He pushed the notebook in front of Leo.
It was a handwritten recipe book.
Not only did it contain detailed instructions, but it even included diagrams Douglas had drawn himself, analyzing heat control and ingredient combinations.
Leo froze, then opened the recipe book with trembling hands.
It was Douglas's handwriting. He recognized it.
As a child, he had learned his first dish, Tomato and Scrambled Eggs, by following the crooked notes Douglas had written.
"What... what's this, then?"
Leo's voice trembled a little.
"A few new ideas."
Douglas spoke casually.
He knew Leo had a talent for cooking.
All he needed was a spark of inspiration, and he could work out substitutes and new cooking methods himself.
Just like back at the orphanage, when Douglas had merely told him that eggs would turn out more tender if he beat them before frying them.
Leo had built on that to invent Milk Scrambled Eggs, Egg Fried Rice, and a whole series of "culinary abominations."
Leo's eyes shone with an alarming brightness.
Like a peerless martial artist who had obtained a secret manual, he cradled the recipe book in both hands, running his fingers over it page by page.
"Douglas, how does that brain of yours even work? Didn't you go off to become a teacher? Are you teaching cooks, too?"
Watching her husband's entranced expression, Clara shook her head helplessly and said to Douglas:
"Look, he's going to go mad again. Every time he gets a recipe book you've sent him, he shuts himself in the kitchen for three days and nights."
"That's called passion."
Douglas smiled as he spoke.
He remembered his first visit back to the