Naomi sat silently, staring at the unfamiliar road. "This is Mr. Zylan's villa?" she asked gently.
The lady beside her nodded,
Calculating her surroundings, Naomi realized that escaping might be difficult, though not impossible. She turned to the woman beside her with a smile. "May I know your name?"
"Yes, Miss Naomi. My name is Rhea. I will be your personal guide."
"Oh, Rhea, does Mr. Zylan often come home late?"
"I'm not sure, but it depends. I'm not in charge of his schedule," Rhea replied politely.
"That's fine," Naomi said, already calculating in her head. 'She said she's not sure, meaning he must come home late most of the time...'A twenty-minute drive on a busy road, followed by ten minutes on a lonely road...'
Her thoughts were interrupted by Rhea. "If I may ask, why did you want to know?"
"Oh, it's nothing," Naomi smiled. "I'm just curious about my husband-to-be."
Naomi was careful not to reveal her plan before it was fully in motion. "By the way, is there Wi-Fi? My data has run out."
Rhea nodded. "Yes, the Wi-Fi is always on in the mansion."
"Oh, thank goodness! I can finally watch my favorite show," Naomi said with a smirk. 'Plan A done. Plan B done. Now, on to Plan C...'
"I'm really curious about you, though," Naomi continued. "You look about three years older than me. I wonder why I need an assistant."
"It's an order, Miss Naomi," Rhea answered.
"Oh, okay. Well, I'm glad to have you," Naomi said, smiling again, though her mind was still focused on her plans.
The car came to a stop in front of a massive mansion. If Naomi didn't know better, she would have mistaken it for a castle. How could only one person live in such a huge place? she wondered. No wonder Anna had been so determined to marry Zylan. Stepping out with Rhea by her side, Naomi quickly scanned her surroundings before entering.
An elderly woman stood at the entrance, greeting her gently, "Welcome, Miss Naomi."
Naomi froze, responding cautiously, "Thank you."
'How did she know my name?' Naomi's mind raced. So, Zylan hadn't chosen her by mere coincidence. He knew who she was, and Naomi was sure that this man had sinister motives.
"Miss Naomi, it's time to eat," Rhea finally spoke, leading her inside.
Naomi's jaw dropped as they entered the mansion. The interior was immense, even more impressive than she expected. How could Zylan live here all alone? He was clearly wealthy—so why would someone this rich want to die? But as she thought about it, she realized there are things money can't buy. They walked to the dining room, where an array of delicious food was laid out on a long table. Naomi's mouth watered at the sight of the appetizing dishes. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, and her stomach growled in response.
In one corner of the room, rows of chefs stood silently, as if waiting for their food to be tasted. Naomi sat down, grabbing a spoon. She was famished. The dining table had an exquisite, almost vintage look, like something from the 19th century. She admired the place briefly before reaching for a fruit salad.
Just as Naomi started to eat, one of the chefs bowed and quietly left the room. Confused, she tilted her head but continued eating, this time picking up a piece of chicken. Again, another chef bowed and exited the room.
Okay, what was going on? she thought.
Rhea, standing beside her, finally explained. "Each dish was made by a different chef. Whenever Mr. Zylan eats a dish, the chef who prepared it bows and leaves—this means they've been promoted. If he doesn't eat a dish, the chef who made it will be fired."
Naomi's eyes widened. What a ridiculous rule!*How did they expect one person to eat all these dishes? She was certain they all tasted delicious. It was absurd and, in her opinion, unfair to the chefs. Poor chefs, she thought, shaking her head.
Naomi lifted her head, her gaze sweeping over the rows of chefs. One chef, in particular, caught her attention. He was sweating profusely, as if he had just run a marathon.
Naomi finally spoke, "You there—Mister Bald." She hadn't meant to be disrespectful, but she didn't know his name, and that was the only way she could describe him.
The man turned towards her and began walking in silence. The other chefs stared in shock; nothing like this had ever happened before.
"What's your name?" Naomi asked.
"My name is Gray," he stammered, visibly shaking.
"And which dish did you prepare?" Naomi inquired. The man's eyes widened as he hurried to a corner, returning with a small plate. A chocolate velvet cake, surrounded by strawberries cut into star shapes, sat on it. 'No wonder he was sweating' Naomi thought. Among all these extravagant dishes, something so small stood out like a needle in a haystack.
Naomi reached out and took the plate. As she tasted the cake, her eyes lit up. It was absolutely delicious.
"Lovely," she said, smiling.
Gray's eyes widened in disbelief. "T-thank you so much, Miss," he stuttered.
"I'd love it if you could prepare this for me every evening," Naomi added.
Gray froze, overwhelmed. "Thank you, Miss! I'm so grateful!" He bowed deeply before leaving.
Rhea, who had been observing the whole scene, looked stunned. "This has never happened before," she murmured.
Naomi turned to her. "Is this against the rules?"
"No, Miss Naomi, it isn't," Rhea replied, still in shock. Of course it wasn't against the rules—because this was the first time something like this had ever occurred.
"What if Mr. Zylan doesn't eat any of the dishes? What happens then?" Naomi asked.
"Then... all the chefs will be fired," Rhea explained.
The moment those words left her mouth, the entire line of chefs began trembling.
"Why don't you join me?" Naomi suggested, looking at Rhea.
"No, thank you, Miss Naomi, but I can't," Rhea replied politely.
"Why not?" Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because it's not part of my duties," Rhea responded.
"Well, as your my personal guide, I suggest that this, too, becomes part of your duties. Join me," Naomi insisted with a slight smile.
Reluctantly, Rhea finally sat down and began to eat alongside her. Meanwhile, the chefs continued bowing and leaving as Naomi tasted various dishes.
Naomi observed all the food carefully. Despite the variety of fruits, she noticed one was missing—grapes.
"I don't see any grapes," she remarked, glancing at Rhea.
"Oh, about that," Rhea began, "Mr. Zylan doesn't eat grapes."
Naomi's curiosity piqued. "Does that mean he's allergic to them?" she murmured to herself as she continued eating.
Her thoughts lingered for a moment. Seems like my plan is going smoother than expected. She glanced at Rhea, a quiet murmur slipping from her lips:
"Grapes."