Of course, things could never be that simple.
The head chef soon turned his head, looking towards Shiller's table, because there were two people at the table who hadn't touched their forks—Shiller and Jerome.
The head chef walked over to them.
"May I ask if these two have any complaints about this dish?" The chef's attitude was still somewhat amicable, but his smile clearly contained a threat, and his tone was a bit aggressive.
Before Shiller could speak, Jerome spoke first.
"No, the dish is fine. I just haven't finished my drink yet. I didn't expect that your restaurant's service would be so fast, and I am someone accustomed to savoring my wine slowly, sorry."
The chef's face stiffened for a moment, but he ultimately accepted the explanation. However, Shiller realized that Jerome was buying time, but why?
Just as the chef focused his attention on Shiller, an abrupt change occurred in the restaurant.
A customer, who had already consumed three rounds of his own head, suddenly went mad. Instead of cutting off his own head, he took out a dinner knife to cut off the head of the person next to him, placed it on his own plate, and began eating it heartily.
After he finished eating this head, he targeted the person on his right, cutting off his head as well, and then he ate even faster.
The people whose heads were cut off did not come back again.
Indeed, Shiller thought, this so-called eating one's own 'part' was not about eating one's head but devouring others from the same social class, this group cannibalizing itself.
Shiller also noticed that those who had finished eating their third head targeted people who were in the process of eating their third head, while those who were not attacked were the ones who hadn't managed to eat their third head, even if some of them were closer to these maniacs.
This meant that as long as one didn't start on the third head, one would not be attacked, so Jerome was stalling because it was clear that once you start eating, you cannot stop.
So the later you start, the later you'll get to the third head, and the later you'll be attacked. From the current scene, those who ate others' heads didn't show any changes or become stronger, so naturally, the later you enter the fray, the more advantageous it is, and the fewer opponents you have to face.
Buying time with an aperitif was not impossible, but Shiller thought it might be because Jerome was a scientist; after all, he could work with Batman on developing a power core and deceive Batman in the TV shows. He seemed to be a scientific mastermind.
But Shiller was different; he was a civil servant, and since there were people in the restaurant with whom one could communicate, there was no need to resort to such obstinate tactics. He had a better way.
Seeing the chef casting his gaze, Shiller leisurely straightened his napkin but looked at the chef with a gaze filled with reproach and disappointment.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I recalled you saying earlier that you would introduce the story behind each dish. I was planning to listen attentively. Do you expect me to taste your meticulously prepared meal without any awareness? Allow me to say, that is highly unprofessional."
The chef's face immediately darkened.
Shiller sighed and said, "Food is merely something we use to sustain life; its transformation into nutrients in our stomach and intestines holds no beauty, that should be left to biologists and doctors to study."
"If we focus all our energy on this matter, then we are vastly underestimating the significance of cuisine in human society. Instead, we should pay more attention to the spiritual pleasure brought about by exquisite food."
"God gave humans taste buds to let us unite our senses with our spirit, so merely the wonderful taste is not enough to fully express the meaning of cuisine."
Shiller tapped his fingers lightly on the table and said, "What I am more concerned about is the process through which a dish is created, how the fleeting spark of inspiration is ignited in the chef's mind, how they choose to realize their inspiration, whether the choice of ingredients holds any unique significance, and what emotions are expressed in that final moment when the dish is completed."
"I thought I would hear about these," Shiller exhaled and shook his head, saying, "But instead, you tell me to just eat it. I must say, I am quite disappointed; I thought the renowned Buolovini Restaurant would surprise me."
The chef's face couldn't hide his frustration, his mouth corners sharply downturned, and his nasolabial folds like two deep gorges.
"Most people here don't care about the meaning of cuisine," he said. "They can't even remember the name of a dish, or they manipulate their own influence in public opinion, disregarding the chef's feelings."
Slap!
The crisp sound startled the chef himself, and he looked towards Shiller, who had slapped the fork on the table, and saw a hint of anger in his eyes.
The chef really wanted to ask, what are you angry about?
"Do you think I am such a person?" Shiller nearly was questioning him, saying, "What makes you think so? I remember we haven't had any interactions before, sir, is this how you treat your guests?"
After slamming the fork down, Shiller stood up and adjusted the hem of his coat and said, "If this is your attitude, then I must tell you, I don't believe a person like you can make any good dishes, and I won't waste any more time here."
As he said this, Shiller was about to leave when at that moment, the waiters who had served the food and returned to their posts seemed to suddenly undergo some change, and Jerome also widened his eyes in shock looking at Shiller, as if to say—"Where the hell did this lunatic come from? Are you really picking a fight now???"
The chef stepped to the side, blocking Shiller, and said with a dark look, "I must admit, you have a point, sir. I apologize for my rudeness and I hope you will give me one last chance. Would you care to sit down again and listen to my explanation of this dish?"
Shiller seemed a bit hesitant as he studied the chef up and down several times before speaking as if he had just remembered something, "I think I have an impression of you, you appeared in the previous World Chef Magazine, but then you quickly disappeared..."
The chef's eyes brightened slightly, he said, "I didn't expect anyone to remember me, do you still remember my name?"
Actually, Shiller had no idea who he was, but he remained composed and said, "Since you chose to come to Gotham, your original name must not be mentioned, but if you choose to continue serving gourmet food to the people in this city, then I believe you are a respectable chef."
Having said that, Shiller turned around and went back to his seat.
By now, the restaurant had turned into complete chaos as more and more people devoured the third head, seemingly having lost the ability to cut off their own heads to feed their hunger, they had to target others, so almost everyone was brandishing dinner knives and charging at others.
Suddenly, screams, wails, lascivious mad laughter, and roars filled the air incessantly, the chef seemed impatient, his eyelids drooped as he roared lowly, "Quiet!"
In an instant, everyone's wrists seemed to have been struck, and the dinner knives fell to the ground, they were pushed back to their seats by some invisible force but still appeared very hungry, frenziedly devouring every shred of meat they could find on their plates.
"You named this dish 'Nutrient,' and I've also heard this term in a previous ballad, does it have any special significance?"
He had actually heard that ballad, Jerome's eyes grew even more shocked; hearing a rotting head singing to him, and his only question was what special significance the word nutrient had???
The chef cleared his throat, only then noticing the head on Shiller's plate, clearly observing that this head looked different from Shiller.
"Before this, please allow me to ask, why this..."
"Have you heard of dissociative identity disorder?" Shiller retorted, he said, "Not every self in one's mind is their own."
The chef looked enlightened, accepting this explanation, he said, "The term 'nutrient' is just the literal meaning, in the past they derived nutrients from those beneath them, which obviously is finite, sooner or later, they must cannibalize themselves to satisfy their infinite greed."
"You believe the key lies in greed?" Shiller sat up in his chair, looking up at the chef and said, "The ballad says 'they are becoming fewer,' but, sorry, I hold an opposite viewpoint."
The chef frowned, he was about to say something but stopped himself, assuming a posture as if he was all ears, seemingly convinced that Shiller could express no worthwhile viewpoint.
"There is a noticeable logical contradiction," Shiller extended one hand and said, "Let's be straightforward, you believe that the rich are always exploiting the poor, right?"
"Yes, they only see us as nutrient."
"Okay, then what kind of people are the poor, perhaps you would say people like you, but then what about the homeless on the streets? Do you think you are the same?"
"Oh, I know you think you are the process, and the homeless are the result, but have you ever considered, the more of 'you' that get exploited into becoming homeless, the greater the number of homeless will grow."
"Yes, but the homeless can no longer provide them with nutrients, they can't even be considered as human anymore."
"Completely wrong, sir, you believe that people like you, after being exploited by the rich, lose all their significance, becoming non-humans who are not even considered as nutrients."
"Isn't that the case?" the chef squinted and said, "There are too many such people in the world."
"I'm not saying this to deny their wicked deeds, but rather to say that the homeless are not the result, because the homeless in America live quite well; many people kindly give them food, and as long as they are not seriously ill or bring it on themselves, they can live for a long time, can't they?"
"They still have room to fall, if they are indeed the result, then what about those living in war-torn slums?"
"They are all people from whom nutrients have been extracted," the chef said.
"I'm not saying there has to be a hierarchy among them, you seem to think that this fall after being drained of nutrients has no bottom line."
"If you consider death as the bottom line, then I have nothing else to say," the chef shook his head.
"Wrong," Shiller looked at him and said, "There is a layer between living in a haze and death."
"What is it?"
"To rise up in rebellion," Shiller stated as if it were common knowledge, "Unable to live well but not wanting to die, isn't there only one way left?"
"But the vast majority of people simply don't have..."
"But you do not belong to the vast majority," Shiller said, "Even if you didn't have it before, now you have the capability to resist, aren't you doing that?"
The chef picked up a fork from the table next to him and forcefully stabbed it into the head of the man next to Shiller, saying, "You're right, I resist in my own way, I demand that they return the nutrients they took from me, this is my interpretation of this dish."
"No." To the chef's and Jerome's surprise, Shiller again raised an objection, saying, "That's one interpretation, but it's certainly not the best one."