"Everyone dies is the norm? Glad I'm still alive? Lucky that I'm still alive?"
Klein shivered suddenly, then quickly took a few steps toward the door, attempting to catch up with the police officers, hoping for some protection.
But as soon as he touched the door handle, his movements halted.
"That officer made things sound so frightening... So why aren't they protecting me, the key witness, or the crucial lead?"
"Isn't this negligence?"
"Is this a test... or are they baiting me?"
Various thoughts clashed in Klein's mind, making him suspect that the police might still be secretly "watching" him, observing his reactions.
With this in mind, he felt a bit calmer, no longer in a panic. He slowly opened the door, deliberately making his voice quiver as he called out toward the staircase, "You'll protect me, right?"
Tap, tap, tap...
The officers didn't respond. The rhythm of their polished shoes on the wooden stairs remained unchanged.
"I knew it! This is what you'd do!" Klein shouted again, trying his best to sound like a normal person in danger, to make himself appear genuine.
The footsteps gradually weakened, fading as they disappeared downstairs.
Klein muttered under his breath, a mocking laugh in his stomach: "That response was so fake. Their acting skills are terrible!"
He didn't chase after them but instead turned back into the room, closing the door behind him casually.
For the next few hours, Klein fully embodied the role of a nervous wreck: sitting restlessly, feeling anxious, irritated, and distracted, not allowing himself to relax just because there was no one around.
This, he told himself, was "an actor's self-discipline."
As the sun sank and the clouds "caught fire" in the sky, the tenants of the building began returning home. Only then did Klein shift his focus to other matters.
"Melissa should be getting out of school soon..." He turned his gaze toward the stove, lifted the kettle in one smooth motion, moved the coal aside, and took out his revolver.
Without pause or delay, he reached beneath the lower bunk, where there were several wooden slats crisscrossing for support.
After wedging the revolver between one of the wooden slats and the board, Klein straightened up, anxiously waiting, fearful that the police would suddenly burst in, guns drawn, and storm the room.
In a normal steam-powered world, when making the earlier move, he'd be sure no one would see him. But this world had extraordinary powers—powers he had already confirmed existed.
Minutes passed in tense silence at the door. The only sounds were two tenants in the distance talking as they walked to the "Wild Heart" bar on Iron Cross Street, their conversation growing louder, then fading away.
"Ha..." Klein exhaled deeply, feeling his heart settle back into his chest.
Now, just waiting for Melissa to come home and make her tender pea and lamb stew!
The thought came to him, and suddenly he could almost taste the savory aroma of meat juice filling his mouth. He also remembered how Melissa made that stew.
She first blanched the meat in boiling water, then added onions, salt, a little pepper, and some water to simmer it all together. At the right moment, she added peas and potatoes, letting it stew for forty to fifty minutes.
"Such a simple and basic method..." Klein couldn't help but shake his head. "Purely relying on the meat's natural flavor!"
But what else could she do? For a working-class family, there weren't many spices or fancy cooking methods—just simple, practical, and frugal dishes. As long as the meat wasn't burnt or spoiled, for someone who only ate two or three times a week, anything would be fine.
Klein didn't consider himself much of a chef. He mostly ate out, but after cooking three or four times a week, he'd built up a decent enough skill level to feel confident he wouldn't waste that precious pound of lamb.
"Wait for Melissa to come back and cook it... It'll be after 7:30 by the time it's ready, and she'll be starving... It's time to show her some real cooking skills!" Klein found himself an excuse and reignited the stove. He went to the communal washroom to fetch water and clean the lamb, then brought out a chopping board and knife to cut it into small pieces.
As for how to explain his sudden cooking skills, he decided to blame it on the late Welch MacGowan. This guy not only hired a chef skilled in coastal cuisine but also often experimented with food himself and invited people to taste his creations.
Yeah, the dead can't argue with me!
But then—wait, this world has extraordinary people—dead people might not stay silent after all… With that thought, Klein felt a slight pang of unease.
He shook off the chaotic thoughts and placed the meat in a soup bowl. Then, he grabbed a spice box and shook a generous spoonful of yellowish coarse salt into it. From a special little bottle, he carefully took some black peppercorns and mixed them with the lamb and salt, leaving it to marinate briefly.
As the stew pot heated up on the stove, Klein rummaged through the leftovers from yesterday—carrots—and cut them into chunks along with the onions he had bought today.
Once the prep was done, he took out a small jar from the cupboard. Inside, there was just a little bit of lard left.
Klein scooped out a spoonful and put it into the pot, letting it melt as he added the carrots and onions. He sautéed the mixture for a while.
The aroma began to fill the room as Klein poured the lamb into the pan and carefully seared it for a while.
In the process, he should have added some cooking wine, or at least substituted it with some grape wine. However, the Moretti household didn't have such luxurious things. Benson could only afford a beer once a week. Klein, therefore, had no choice but to make do, adding some plain water instead, making it work.
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 spoonfuls of salt.
Closing the lid again, he lowered the heat and took a deep breath, feeling satisfied as he waited for his sister to come home.
Minute by minute, the smell of the stew grew stronger. There was the tempting aroma of the meat, the rich fragrance of the potatoes, and the "freshness" of the onions.
The flavors started to blend together, and Klein couldn't help but swallow several times as he checked his pocket watch, watching the minute hand tick by.
After about forty minutes, footsteps approached with a steady, not hurried rhythm. The key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open.
"Smells so good..." Melissa's voice drifted in from the doorway, tinged with curiosity.
She stepped inside with her bag in hand, her eyes scanning the stove.
"You made this?" Melissa froze in place, her hand hovering midair as she took off her hat. She looked at Klein with a mix of shock and disbelief.
She sniffed the air, inhaling the aroma deeply, and her expression softened as if gaining some confidence.
"You made this?" she asked again, this time with more certainty.
"Are you worried I'll waste the lamb?" Klein smiled, countering with a question. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Don't worry, I specifically asked Welch how to make this dish. You know, he has a great chef."
"First time cooking?" Melissa's brow furrowed instinctively, but the fragrance of the stew quickly smoothed her worry.
"Looks like I have a natural talent for it," Klein chuckled. "It's almost done. You should put your hat away, wash your hands in the bathroom, and then wait to taste it. I'm feeling pretty confident."
Listening to her brother speak so calmly, and seeing his gentle, peaceful smile, Melissa froze at the door, lost in thought for a moment.
"Do you prefer it a little more tender?" Klein smiled and gently urged.
"Ah, yes, okay!" Melissa snapped out of her daze, grabbed her hat and bag, and hurried into the back room.
When she returned after washing up, Klein had already lifted the lid of the stew pot, releasing a cloud of steam. Two slices of rye bread had been placed beside the lamb and peas, allowing them to absorb the fragrance and heat, becoming soft and delicious.
By the time Melissa finished freshening up and returned, the desk had been set with a plate of the lamb stew, garnished with potatoes, carrots, and onions. The two slices of rye bread, now tinged with some of the lamb's juice, were placed in separate small plates.
"Come, try it," Klein pointed to the wooden fork and spoon placed beside the plate.
Melissa, still a little confused, didn't refuse. She picked up the fork, speared a piece of potato, and brought it to her mouth, taking a delicate bite.
The creamy, starchy potato and the rich, savory meat juices mixed together, filling her mouth. Her saliva flowed uncontrollably, and in just a few bites, she finished the entire piece of potato.
"Try the meat," Klein gestured toward the plate with his chin.
He had already tasted it and found it to be only passable, but for a girl who had rarely seen much meat and only ate it occasionally, it was more than enough!
Melissa's eyes lit up with anticipation. She carefully forked a piece of lamb.
It was cooked perfectly, tender to the point of almost melting as soon as it touched her tongue. The full flavor of the meat exploded, the marvelous juices overflowing, filling her mouth.
It was an unprecedentedly wonderful experience that made her want to keep eating. Before she knew it, she had already eaten several pieces of lamb.
"I... I... Klein, this is for you..." Melissa's face flushed red, and she stammered, feeling flustered.
"I already snuck a taste earlier. It's the privilege of being the chef," Klein smiled, reassuring her. He then picked up the fork and spoon again, taking bites of the meat, peas, and occasionally dipping pieces of the rye bread into the juices.
Melissa relaxed, affected by Klein's perfectly normal behavior, and allowed herself to become immersed in the delicious food once more.
"It's so good! I can't believe this is your first time cooking," Melissa glanced at the empty plate, where not a trace of the juices was left, and sincerely praised him.
"It's nowhere near as good as Welch's chef. When I have the money, I'll take you and Benson to a nice restaurant, and we'll have something even better!" Klein said, beginning to sound wistful at the thought.
"You have an interview... hic..." Melissa's sentence was cut short by a sudden, uncontrollable sound of contentment.
She quickly covered her mouth with one hand, her face turning even redder from embarrassment.
It was all because the lamb stew had been so good!
Klein chuckled quietly and decided not to tease his sister. Instead, he pointed at the empty plate and said, "Your task."
"Okay!" Melissa stood up eagerly, grabbed the basin, and hurried toward the door.
When she returned after washing up, she opened the cupboard and, out of habit, checked the spice box and other items.
"You used this?" Melissa exclaimed in surprise, holding the black pepper shaker and the jar of lard as she looked at Klein.
Klein shrugged and smiled. "Just a little. It's the price of good taste."
Melissa's eyes flickered as her expression shifted several times before she finally pursed her lips and said, "I think I'll do the cooking from now on."
"Mm... You'd better focus on preparing for your interview. Work is something to think about," Klein replied casually.