Everyone dying was normal? Glad I was still alive? Lucky I was still alive?
Klein shuddered violently and hurried toward the door, trying to catch up with the policemen and seek their protection.
But just as he touched the handle, he suddenly stopped.
That officer made it all sound so terrifying, so why wouldn't they protect an important witness-or a key lead-like me?
Wasn't that far too careless?
Were they testing me, or using me as bait?
Various thoughts battled in Klein's mind, making him suspect the police were still secretly "watching" him, observing his reactions.
At this thought, he felt considerably reassured. No longer so frightened and flustered, he slowly opened the door and deliberately made his voice tremble as he called toward the stairwell:
"You'll protect me, won't you?"
Tap, tap, tap. The officers did not answer, and the rhythm of their leather shoes against the wooden stairs remained unchanged.
"I know you will! You'll do that!" Klein called again with feigned conviction, trying hard to act like an ordinary person facing danger.
The footsteps gradually faded, disappearing on the ground floor of the apartment building.
Klein gave a low snort and scoffed inwardly:
That reaction was way too fake, wasn't it? Your acting wasn't up to standard!
He did not follow them downstairs, but turned back into the room and shut the door behind him.
Over the next few hours, Klein fully embodied such expressions from the great nation of foodies as unsettled, restless, agitated, and reading without comprehending. He did not lower his standards just because no one was around.
This is called an actor's self-cultivation! he mocked himself inwardly.
Only when the sun slanted westward, the clouds on the horizon began to "burn," and the apartment's residents returned home one after another did Klein turn his attention elsewhere.
"Melissa should be getting out of school soon..." He looked toward the stove, lifted the kettle, pushed aside the coal, and took out the revolver in one go.
Without pausing or delaying, he reached beneath the wooden board of the lower bunk, where a dozen or so wooden slats crisscrossed to support it.
After wedging the revolver between a slat and the board, Klein straightened up and waited uneasily, afraid the police would suddenly break down the door and rush into the room with guns raised.
In an ordinary steam-powered world, he was certain no one would have seen what he had just done. Here, however, there were supernatural powers-supernatural powers he had personally verified.
He waited several minutes, but there was no movement at the door. Only the voices of two tenants arranging to visit the Wild Heart pub on Iron Cross Street drew closer, then faded away.
"Phew." Klein exhaled, his heart settling back into his chest.
Now all he had to do was wait for Melissa to come home and make lamb stew with tender peas!
As soon as this thought arose, Klein's mouth seemed to fill with the fragrance of meat juices, and he also recalled how Melissa made lamb stew with tender peas.
She first boiled water to blanch the pieces of meat, then added onions, salt, a tiny bit of pepper, water, and so on, and simply stewed it. After a while, she added peas and potatoes and simmered it for forty to fifty minutes.
"That really is a simple, crude way of cooking... It relies entirely on the meat's own flavor!" Klein could not help shaking his head.
But there was no helping it. How could an ordinary family have all sorts of seasonings or cooking techniques? They could only aim for simplicity, practicality, and economy. In any case, as long as the meat was neither burned nor spoiled, it was good however it was prepared to people who ate it only twice, or even once, a week.
Klein could hardly be called a skilled cook, and he mostly ate out, but cooking three or four times a week, week after week, had still brought him to a passable standard. He felt he should not let that pound of lamb go to waste.
"If I wait for Melissa to come back before cooking, it won't be ready until after seven thirty. She'll be starving by then... It's time to show her some true cooking skills!" Finding himself an excuse, Klein first rekindled the stove, fetched water from the communal washroom to rinse the lamb, then took out a cutting board and kitchen knife and chopped it into small pieces with a steady thunking.
As for explaining his sudden cooking skills, he decided to put it down to the late Welch McGovern. This classmate had not only hired a chef skilled in Sonia Sea specialties, but had also often experimented with food himself and invited others to taste it.
Yes, dead men couldn't contradict me!
But, hiss, this was a world with Beyonders. The dead might not necessarily be unable to speak... At this thought, Klein inexplicably felt a little guilty.
He cast aside his jumbled thoughts and placed the pieces of meat in a soup bowl. Then he took out the seasoning box and shook in a spoonful and a half of yellowish coarse salt. He also carefully took some black peppercorns from their little bottle and mixed them evenly with the lamb and salt, leaving it to marinate briefly.
He placed the stewpot on the stove. While waiting for it to heat up, Klein found the carrots left over from yesterday and cut them into numerous pieces along with the onion he had bought today.
With the preparations complete, he took a small jar out of the cupboard and opened it, revealing the little lard remaining inside.
Klein scooped out a spoonful and put it in the pot to melt, then added the carrots and onion pieces and stir-fried them for a while.
As the aroma began to spread, Klein tipped in all the lamb and carefully fried it for a little while.
He should have added some cooking wine during this process, or at least used wine as a substitute. However, the Moretti family had no such luxuries. Even Benson could only have one glass of beer a week. Klein could only make do, pouring in some boiling water and improvising.
After stewing it for about twenty minutes, he opened the lid and added the tender peas and chopped potatoes, along with another cup of hot water and two spoonfuls of salt.
Replacing the lid and turning down the heat, Klein exhaled in satisfaction and waited for his sister to come home.
As the minutes and seconds passed, the aroma in the room grew richer, carrying the temptation of meat, the mellow richness of potatoes, and the "freshness" of onions.
The flavors gradually mingled. Klein swallowed from time to time and flipped open his pocket watch to check the minute hand.
Over forty minutes later, footsteps approached, not particularly brisk but steady in rhythm. A key slid into the lock, the handle turned, and the door opened.
"That smells so good..." Melissa murmured in puzzlement before she had even entered.
Carrying her bag, she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the stove.
"You made this?" Melissa stopped halfway through taking off her gauze hat and looked at Klein with eyes full of alarm.
She sniffed, breathing in more of the aroma, and her gaze quickly softened, as though she had found a little confidence.
"You made this?" she asked again in confusion.
"Were you afraid I'd waste the lamb?" Klein asked with a smile. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Don't worry. I specifically asked Welch how to make this dish. You know he had a good chef."
"Your first time making it?" Melissa's brows unconsciously furrowed, only to be smoothed out again by the aroma.
"It seems I have a talent for it." Klein chuckled. "It's almost ready. Put down your books and hat, go wash your hands in the washroom, then wait to taste it. I'm very confident."
Listening to her brother's orderly arrangements and looking at his gentle, calm smile, Melissa froze in the doorway, staring blankly without responding.
"Do you like it stewed a little softer?" Klein prompted with a smile.
"Ah, yes, all right!" Melissa came to her senses and hurried into the inner room, bag in one hand and hat in the other.
Klein lifted the stewpot's lid, and steam immediately rose before his eyes. The two loaves of rye bread had long since been placed alongside the lamb and tender peas to absorb the aroma and heat and soften.
By the time Melissa put her things away and returned after washing her hands and face, a plate of lamb stew with tender peas, dotted with potatoes, carrots, and onions, had been set on the desk. The two loaves of black bread, lightly colored by the meat juices, sat on their respective plates.
"Come on, try it." Klein pointed to the wooden fork and spoon resting beside the plate.
Still a little dazed, Melissa did not refuse. She picked up the fork, speared a piece of potato, brought it to her mouth, and took a small bite.
The potato's soft, floury texture and the rich fragrance of meat juices spread together, making her mouth water furiously. In just a few bites, she finished the potato and swallowed it.
"Try the meat." Klein gestured toward the plate with his chin.
He had already tasted it and thought it barely passed muster, but for a young girl who had seen little of the world and only occasionally got to eat meat, it was enough!
Anticipation brightened Melissa's eyes as she carefully speared a piece of lamb.
It had been stewed so tender that it felt about to melt as soon as it entered her mouth. The true fragrance of meat burst forth, wonderful juices spilling out and filling her mouth.
It was a wonderful sensation unlike anything she had experienced before, and Melissa simply could not stop.
By the time she came to her senses, she had already eaten several pieces of lamb.
"I, I, Klein, this was meant for you..." Melissa's face suddenly flushed red, and she stammered.
"I already snuck some earlier. That's a cook's privilege." Klein smiled reassuringly at his sister and picked up his own fork and spoon, sometimes eating a piece of meat, sometimes filling his mouth with peas, and sometimes putting down his utensils to break off some black bread and dip it in the juices.
Melissa relaxed. Influenced by Klein's perfectly ordinary behavior, she immersed herself in the delicious food once more.
"It was really good. You couldn't tell at all that it was your first time making it." Melissa glanced at the empty plate, with not even any gravy left, and offered her sincere praise.
"It's still a long way from Welch's chef. Once I have money, I'll take you and Benson to a restaurant for something even better!" As Klein spoke, he began to look forward to it himself.
"Your interview will... hic..." Before Melissa could finish, she suddenly let out an uncontrollable sound of satisfaction.
She hastily covered her mouth, her face full of embarrassment.
It was all because that lamb stew with tender peas had been so delicious!
Klein chuckled inwardly and decided not to tease his sister. He pointed to the plate and said:
"This is your job."
"All right!" Melissa stood up eagerly, picked up the basin, and rushed out the door.
When she returned after washing up, she opened the cupboard and habitually checked the seasoning box and other supplies.
"You used these?" Melissa blurted in surprise, turning to look at Klein with the black pepper bottle and lard jar in her hands.
Klein spread his hands and smiled.
"Just a little. That's the price of good food."
Melissa's eyes flickered, and her expression shifted several times. Finally, she pressed her lips together and said:
"I'd better do the cooking from now on."
"Mm... You need to make the most of your time preparing for the interview and think about work."