Everyone usually dies? They're happy I'm still alive? They're lucky I'm still alive?
Klein shuddered violently, quickly taking a few steps towards the door in an attempt to chase after the officers and seek protection.
But just as he touched the doorknob, his movement suddenly halted.
"If that officer described things as so terrifying, why aren't they protecting me, the important witness or key clue?"
"This is too negligent!"
"Are they testing me, or setting a trap?"
Various thoughts clashed in Klein's mind, making him suspect that the police might still be secretly "watching" him, observing his reactions.
Thinking this, he felt more at ease, no longer as frightened and panicked. He slowly opened the door and deliberately spoke with a trembling voice towards the stairs:
"You will protect me, right?"
Clack, clack, clack—the officers did not respond, and the sound of their leather shoes on the wooden stairs remained unchanged.
"I know you will! You will!" Klein shouted again with a feigned sense of conviction, trying hard to act like a normal person in danger.
The footsteps gradually weakened, disappearing on the lower floor of the apartment.
Klein gave a low grunt, inwardly sneering:
"This reaction is too fake, the acting is inadequate!"
He didn't chase them but turned back into the room and closed the door behind him.
For the next few hours, Klein thoroughly expressed his inner turmoil—restlessness, anxiety, frustration, and confusion—without relaxing his demands just because he was alone.
This is called an actor's self-cultivation! he self-mocked.
As the sun dipped lower and the clouds "burned" in the sky, signaling the end of the day, the apartment residents began to return home. Klein then shifted his focus to other matters.
"Melissa should be getting off school soon…" He glanced at the stove, lifted the kettle, opened the coal compartment, and took out the revolver.
Without hesitation, he reached behind the lower wooden board of the bunk bed, where several wooden strips crossed to support it.
After wedging the revolver between a wooden strip and the board, Klein straightened up, anxiously waiting, afraid the police would suddenly burst in with guns drawn.
In a normal steam world, he would be certain that no one would see him while doing what he had just done. However, this world had extraordinary powers—powers he had personally verified.
After waiting a few minutes with no movement at the door, he only heard the voices of two tenants discussing plans to go to the "Heart of the Wild" pub on Iron Cross Street, their conversation growing fainter.
"Phew." Klein exhaled, feeling his heart return to its place.
Now, just waiting for Melissa to come back and make the lamb stew with tender peas!
As this thought crossed his mind, Klein imagined the rich aroma of meat and recalled how Melissa prepared the tender peas and lamb stew.
She would first boil the meat chunks, then add onions, salt, a bit of pepper, and water, cooking it. After a while, she would add peas and potatoes and let it simmer for forty to fifty minutes.
"That's really a simple and rudimentary method… purely relying on the meat's own flavor!" Klein couldn't help shaking his head.
But that's just how it is—ordinary people don't have many spices or various cooking techniques. They can only pursue simplicity, practicality, and economy. As long as the meat isn't burnt or spoiled, it's good enough for someone who eats it only once or twice a week.
Klein wasn't a master cook, mainly eating out, but after cooking three or four times a week, he had developed a basic skill level, feeling he couldn't let the pound of lamb go to waste.
"I'll cook it when Melissa gets back. It'll be after seven-thirty by then, and she'll be starving… It's time to show her some real cooking skills!" Klein found an excuse for himself, reigniting the stove, and went to the communal washroom to fetch water to clean the lamb. Then he took out the cutting board and knife and chopped the lamb into small pieces.
As for how to explain his sudden cooking skills, he decided to blame it on the late Welch McGowan. This classmate not only hired chefs specializing in exotic cuisine but also often experimented with food himself and invited people to taste it.
Hmm, dead people won't refute me!
However, hmm, this is a world with extraordinary beings—dead people might not necessarily stay silent… Thinking this, Klein felt a bit uneasy.
He cast aside his scattered thoughts, placed the meat pieces into a soup bowl, then took out the seasoning box and sprinkled a spoonful and a half of yellowish coarse salt into the bowl. He also carefully took some black peppercorns from a special small jar, mixed them with the lamb and salt, and let it marinate for a bit.
Placing the stew pot on the stove, Klein searched out yesterday's leftover carrots and today's purchased onions, cutting them into many pieces.
After preparing everything, he took a small jar of lard from the cupboard, scooped out a spoonful, melted it in the pot, then added the carrot and onion pieces and sautéed them for a while.
The aroma began to fill the room as Klein added the lamb, cooking it carefully.
In the process, some cooking wine should have been added, or at least some wine as a substitute. However, the Moretti family didn't have such luxuries, and Benson could only afford a beer once a week. Klein had to make do with what he had, so he poured some boiling water and made do.
After about twenty minutes of simmering, he lifted the lid, added the tender peas and diced potatoes, poured in another cup of hot water, and added two spoons of salt.
He closed the lid, lowered the heat, and took a satisfied breath, waiting for his sister to come home.
As time passed, the aroma in the room grew stronger, with the tempting smell of meat, the rich scent of potatoes, and the "freshness" of onions.
The smells began to mix together, and Klein swallowed his saliva occasionally, checking the minute hand on his watch.
After about forty minutes, the rhythmic, if not light, footsteps approached, the key was inserted, the handle turned, and the door opened.
"It smells so good..." Melissa's voice came from outside before she even stepped in, tinged with curiosity.
She walked in with her bag, her eyes scanning the stove.
"You made this?" Melissa's hand, which was about to remove her hat, froze in mid-air, and she looked at Klein with a mix of surprise and apprehension.
She sniffed, inhaling more of the aroma, and her gaze softened as if she found some confidence.
"You made this?" she asked again, puzzled.
"Are you afraid I'll waste the lamb?" Klein smiled and replied, not waiting for an answer. "Don't worry, I specifically asked Welch how to make this dish. As you know, he was a good cook."
"Is this your first time making it?" Melissa's brows furrowed unconsciously, though the aroma seemed to ease her concern.
"Looks like I have a talent for it," Klein laughed. "It's almost done. Why don't you put your books and hat aside, wash your hands in the bathroom, and then get ready to taste it? I'm quite confident."
Listening to her brother's methodical instructions and seeing his calm, gentle smile, Melissa stood at the door, momentarily stunned and unresponsive.
"Do you prefer it a bit more tender?" Klein smiled and urged her.
"Ah, yes, okay!" Melissa snapped out of it, grabbed her bag and hat, and hurried into the inner room.
Lifting the lid of the stew pot, Klein was greeted by a burst of steam. Two pieces of rye bread had long been placed next to the lamb and tender peas to absorb the aroma and heat and become soft.
By the time Melissa returned after tidying up and washing her hands and face, a plate of lamb stew with potatoes, carrots, and onions was ready on the table, and two pieces of black bread stained with some meat juices were on separate plates.
"Come, try it," Klein said, pointing to the wooden fork and spoon next to the plate.
Melissa, still a bit dazed, did not refuse. She picked up a fork, skewered a piece of potato, and brought it to her mouth, taking a small bite.
The creamy texture of the potato and the rich flavor of the meat combined, making her saliva flow excessively, and she finished the piece of potato in just a few bites.
"Try the meat," Klein said, nodding toward the plate.
He had already tasted it and found it only average, but for a young girl who rarely had meat, it was good enough!
Melissa's eyes sparkled with anticipation as she carefully forked a piece of lamb.
It was tender from the stew, and as soon as it hit her mouth, it almost melted, releasing an explosion of meaty flavor and delightful juices that filled her mouth.
It was an unprecedentedly wonderful experience, and Melissa couldn't stop eating.
By the time she realized it, she had already devoured several pieces of lamb.
"I... I... Klein, this is for you..." Melissa's face turned red, and she spoke haltingly.
"I already had some; that's a cook's privilege," Klein said with a reassuring smile, as he also picked up the fork and spoon, occasionally eating a piece of meat, some peas, and sometimes dipping a piece of black bread into the juices.
Melissa relaxed, influenced by Klein's normal behavior, and continued to enjoy the delicious meal.
"It's so good. I can't believe it's your first time making this," Melissa said, looking at the empty plate with no juice left, sincerely praising.
"It's still far from being as good as Welch's chef's cooking. When I have money, I'll take you and Benson to a restaurant for even better food!" Klein said, starting to look forward to it himself.
"What about your interview..." Melissa began to say but suddenly made a satisfied noise uncontrollably.
She hurriedly covered her mouth with her hand, looking embarrassed.
It was all because the lamb stew was too delicious!
Klein chuckled to himself, deciding not to tease his sister. He pointed to the plate and said:
"This is your task."
"Alright!" Melissa eagerly stood up, grabbed the basin, and rushed out the door.
When she returned after cleaning up and opened the cupboard, she habitually checked the spice jars and other items.
"You used this?" Melissa asked in surprise, turning to Klein, holding the black pepper and lard jars.
Klein shrugged and smiled:
"A little bit. It's the price of deliciousness."
Melissa's eyes flickered, and her expression changed several times before she finally pursed her lips and said:
"Maybe I'll just cook from now on."
"Hmm... You need to focus on preparing for your interview and thinking about work," Klein replied.