"…That one."
Mollus turned her head and pressed her index finger to her lips. The young man who had addressed her immediately fell silent.
Following her gaze, they both watched in silence as the stray cat ate the entire can of cat food and then ran away.
Stray cats were very wary, and the can was placed a short distance from them. After the stray cat ran off, Mollus went to pick up the empty can, then walked a bit further to throw it into the trash.
"As agreed, I've brought the ingredients," the man said, lifting the items in his hand to indicate his purpose.
To decide if he could be hired by Mollus as a chef, Mollus had given him a test the previous day, asking him to make fried rice with ingredients he prepared himself.
Mollus nodded, turned, and the man followed her into the apartment building, took the elevator, entered the room, and put down the ingredients.
The bright and spacious high-end apartment had a beautiful open-plan kitchen. The man's barely suppressed nervousness surged again. He seemed to be checking the cookware, but his mind was blank.
Although he had helped out in his parents' restaurant since childhood and knew how to cook all the dishes on their menu, their family only ran an ordinary family restaurant that wasn't well-known. He knew his skills were far from those of a truly professional chef.
He didn't understand why the wealthy young lady was giving him a test. Perhaps out of pity?
Anyway, wealthy families usually had multiple chefs, so hiring one more wouldn't make a difference, would it?
In any case, he didn't expect his rudimentary cooking skills to be anything special, but he figured he was qualified to be a kitchen assistant. So, all he had to do was do his best and leave the rest to fate.
First, he familiarized himself with the kitchen layout and arranged the utensils. In his nervousness, he almost dropped the cleaver on his foot.
This test was too important. It meant a valuable employment opportunity, working for the rich, which could mean an advance on his salary to cover his sister's medical expenses.
"…" He gripped the cleaver tightly until his palm ached, which helped him calm down a little.
He secretly glanced at Mollus, who was watching him. She was as expressionless as before, serene, so serene that she lacked the vitality of a living person, more like a doll than a human. Especially her eyes, they were like inorganic objects made of glass.
Compared to the people he had met in his twenty years of life, Mollus seemed to be from another world. It was his first time being alone with her indoors, and he couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive.
The urgency of needing money forced him to brace himself and bring his thoughts back, starting to prepare the dish.
He took out the refrigerated rice from the plastic bag, cracked the prepared eggs into a bowl, whisked them, and then strained them through a sieve.
He poured oil into the pan and waited for it to heat up to the right temperature. Then, while pouring the egg mixture, he stirred the oil in the pan with chopsticks, paying attention to controlling the heat. When the egg mixture turned into golden strands, it was ready to be taken out.
Next came the broth and other ingredients.
He had gone to the market early in the morning to buy the freshest and best ingredients. He spared no expense, using up the 100,000 Jenny budget Mollus had given him. Undoubtedly, this was the most expensive fried rice he had ever made, and the one he had put the most effort into.
He heated the pan and added cold oil. He stir-fried the prepared ingredients in order, sprinkling chopped scallions for fragrance.
He made a mistake when adding salt, but fortunately, he reacted quickly and immediately scooped out the salted ingredients from the pan, then added salt again.
After stir-frying, he plated the dish. He knew he hadn't performed at his best; sweat beaded on his forehead and hands.
Because he was asking for a favor, the one-meter-eight tall young man lowered his head in front of the relatively petite girl who looked younger than him. He felt as awkward as he did when he was a child, facing a strict homeroom teacher announcing his poor final exam results, filled with apprehension.
Mollus took a bite, then put down her spoon and pushed the plate towards him, gesturing for him to taste it himself.
Was it over? He hadn't slept all night, his mind was tense, and he ate the fried rice without tasting it.
The strict homeroom teacher, no, Mollus, wrote her comments on paper.
"It's too ordinary," she wrote. "There's no distinct characteristic. This isn't what I want. If I wanted expensive, high-class cuisine, my own chefs could do it. What I want…"
She stopped writing, looked up at the man, who swallowed with difficulty and cautiously asked, "I don't know… what do you want?"
"I want you to be my personal chef," Mollus continued writing. "Last time I ate a simple meal at your home, I tasted something that gave me a sense of nostalgia."
Mollus usually ate either the cuisine prepared by the Zoldyck family's professional chefs or the varied styles of cooking in this world. It was rare to taste the pure flavor reminiscent of her "real-world" homeland, and it left a deep impression on her. If she could adjust it according to her memories, wouldn't she be able to restore the taste from her memories? Kyshu Pavilion.
"This is your unique value," she wrote on the paper. "I'll give you another chance. There's no specific dish this time. Think about it carefully."
[Special Mission "Good Omen" Completed]
[Obtained: Basic Ore x2]
Another 100,000 Jenny for material costs. Leaving the apartment building, the man sat on a public bench by the roadside, cradling his head. The more anxious he became, the less progress he made. His mind was severely sluggish due to lack of sleep. He rubbed his disheveled hair in pain as he thought.
The next day, at the same time, the man arrived. This time, he had learned from his experience and waited for Mollus to finish feeding the stray cat before approaching her.
Mollus picked up the empty can. After feeding the same stray cat for five consecutive days, she finally received the mission success notification.
[Special Mission "Cat's Gift" Completed]
[Obtained: Basic Ore x5]
Seeing the blue exclamation mark above the man's head again, Mollus nodded to him.
[Special Mission]
[Mission Name: Taste of Home]
[Mission Content: Second Test]
This time, the man prepared Bibimbap, mixing fish soup, soybean paste soup, and meat broth with rice. He added some shredded pork and fish to the rice, garnished it with a few greens, and topped it with a freshly fried sunny-side-up egg.
He poked the sunny-side-up egg with his chopsticks, and the golden yolk flowed out, coating the rice grains and making the texture richer.
Mollus took a bite and, instead of pushing the plate away, looked up at the man.
He was taken aback for a moment, then realized he should explain why he chose to make Bibimbap.
"Uh… you said you liked the taste of the simple meals at my home, so I made this," he said a little embarrassed. "Usually, to save money, we mix leftover dishes together and make a medley to eat ourselves. As long as the flavors are well-matched, it's quite delicious. My sister especially likes it… I'm sorry, it's not something that can be served formally."
Saving money, even in different worlds, was a commonality for less affluent families, wasn't it? The man's method was actually something Mollus often did in her "real world" – mixing leftovers to eat with rice.
Mollus enjoyed doing this, but her mother later stopped her, saying the dish was too oily, bad for her health, and would make her fat, so she gradually stopped doing it.
She watched in silence as her mother ate the mixed leftovers. Yes, her mother did it out of frugality for her own sake.
Sometimes, when her mother saw her looking longingly, she would soften and let her have a bite or two.
"You can't eat anymore," her mother would say.
"…" She put down her chopsticks and returned the bowl to her mother.
Her mother was overweight. She cleared away all the leftovers and said, "See? You can't be like me, so you can't make the mistakes I do."
"I am your negative example, I am setting an example for you, you must not become like me."
"Never."
"Eat a little less. You need to control your mouth. You've gained weight. Your face looks rounder. You used to fit into this dress. You are my dream. Look in the mirror, you must stay beautiful. I wish I could take out this heart and show it to you. You cannot… Mollus… Mollus."
The voices of the two women overlapped, and Mollus closed her eyes.
Her breathing was so light it was almost imperceptible. This was the result of the Zoldyck assassin training. The only sound in the room was the man's breathing, heavy with worry and the pressures of life.
She opened her eyes and placed a bank card on the table, a sub-card of her own bank account.
Then she wrote on the paper: "You've passed. Take this sub-card and use it freely. In exchange, you must be my personal chef, available at any time, for life. Do you agree?"
The man's breathing stopped for a moment. "...I do."
[Special Mission "Taste of Home" Completed]
[Obtained: Basic Ore x2]
At this point, he had no choice, and Mollus knew it.
Mollus knew much more than he thought she did. Mollus was fully aware of his situation. To avoid raising suspicion or causing any other misunderstandings, it was only right and proper to ask to accompany him to see his sister in the hospital.
The man lied to the doctor, claiming Mollus was a distant relative, and brought her to his sister's bedside under the guise of family visiting.
Afterwards, Mollus had him repay all other outstanding debts.
With the debts and medical expenses paid off at once, the turn of fate came so abruptly. The feeling of falling from heaven to hell and then back to heaven was like a dream. The man almost wanted to kneel and thank the girl in front of him.
"Can you make desserts?" Mollus wrote on the paper.
"Ah, yes, a little bit." He hadn't fully adjusted to the current situation and was a bit incoherent.
He had been so focused on passing the test and repaying the money that he hadn't considered that the new job would require him to live with Mollus. Yes, thinking about it carefully, this was actually similar to a "live-in nanny" job. If he didn't live here, how could he cook for the "young lady" in a timely manner?
Yes, he voluntarily addressed Mollus as "Young Lady." After all, she was his employer. She had paid off his debts and covered his sister's medical expenses, making her like a reborn parent to him. Of course, he had to use a respectful title.
Mollus naturally accepted the title. Although she was born into an ordinary family in the "real world," having been called "Young Lady" by the butlers for so many years on Kukuroo Mountain, she had long since gotten used to it.
Unlike his daily efforts to impress her with his work, the Young Lady was a bit too relaxed and didn't guard herself against him. He often saw her in her pajamas, her hair uncombed, looking listless.
He brought over a freshly baked cake. The Young Lady was sunk into the soft sofa. Not only was the Young Lady physically frail, but her face was also very small, making her look like a realistic doll placed on the sofa.
The Young Lady ate two bites. As usual, she ate no more than three bites of any food. The man suspected she might have an eating disorder.
Since the Young Lady ate everything, if he made more varieties, she might eat more, right?
So, he also baked cookies. He had bought many books to study.
Mollus did not ask him to do anything outside of the kitchen, but he was not a blockhead. He knew how to please, or rather, repay his employer. He took care of all the housework he could. This did not include washing Mollus's clothes, as Mollus never wore the same outfit twice; she wore brand-new clothes every day and didn't need laundry.
As they spent more time together, his initial inexplicable fear of the Young Lady gradually faded. Under the Young Lady's fragmented written instructions, constantly adjusting the taste of the dishes gradually became a significant source of enjoyment in his work.
This was his value. He was a chef who existed for the Young Lady. His current life depended on the Young Lady, but wasn't the Young Lady also dependent on him?
He didn't know why the Young Lady never spoke and only wrote, nor did he know her specific family situation. However, the Young Lady also didn't ask many questions about him. Was it "trust" or "indifference"?
In any case, the Young Lady was certainly not an ordinary person. The Young Lady never spoke, nor did she ever show any expression. He had a feeling that he should not get too close.
The Young Lady's pajamas were mostly white, and her hair was silver-white. When she sat on the sofa hugging her knees, she was a small ball of white, fluffy, soft, and fragile, making one want to go up and embrace her.
Alas, the rich also had their troubles. He just didn't know what kind of troubles they were. The man couldn't imagine.
If it were a typical plot from a TV drama, it would probably involve wealth division, arranged marriages for benefit, or something similar.
…Arranged marriage.
Normally, the man dared not stare at the Young Lady's face, lest he offend her. Late at night, the man lay in bed, piecing together his memories, and in his mind, he formed a complete image of her: a very thin, very pale girl with a small face and a relatively petite stature. Her features were exquisite, but she never smiled.
Why wasn't the Young Lady happy at all?
Was her family forcing her to marry someone terrible? It was too pitiful. She had wealth and beauty that ordinary people couldn't even dream of, yet she had to be controlled. Such a life of wealth without substance was also a kind of suffering.
He couldn't ask. It was meaningless. He was in a precarious situation himself and couldn't help anyway. What he should do most was to do his job diligently and create dishes that would satisfy the Young Lady.
Go to sleep. Double-check the alarm clock. Getting up early would give him enough time to prepare breakfast.
During breakfast, the Young Lady would drink a full glass of fresh milk. After drinking it, milk foam would stick to her lips. When she put down the glass, she would lower her head and lick the milk foam off with her tongue before wiping her mouth with a napkin.
The man watched her daily small gestures, momentarily lost in thought.
The Young Lady placed a sticky note on the table. On it was written: "I will be away for a while."
"…" The man thought about the possibility of his job not being long-term, but he hadn't expected the change to come so quickly.
He wondered how long the Young Lady's "while" would be? Would the Young Lady… could she come back?
The Young Lady looked at him, waiting for his reply.
"Yes, I understand," he said. He knew he wasn't in a position to ask further questions. "I will wait for you to return."
The Young Lady nodded. She didn't pack any luggage and left empty-handed. Perhaps this was how wealthy people traveled. They could leave whenever they wanted, without worrying about luggage, just needing money.
The door closed. The man stood by the door for a moment, then walked back into the living room as if waking from a dream and sat on the sofa.
The Young Lady never spoke, so whether the Young Lady was present or not, only his own voice would be heard in the house. However, with one person missing, the atmosphere in the house was completely different.
He looked towards the Young Lady's room. The door, which had always been closed, was a silent refusal. He had never seen the inside of that room.
Of course, he was a little curious, but he was self-aware enough to quickly look away and avoid overthinking.
Since the Young Lady was away, he could relax a bit. So, he should go visit his sister in the hospital first.
After completing a task he found on the Hunter website, Mollus unexpectedly encountered Zeno at the airport. To be precise, Zeno saw her first and used his killing intent directed at her to attract her attention – a greeting style very characteristic of the Zoldycks.
Following the killing intent, Mollus first saw Zeno, the source of the intent, and then, further away, standing out from the crowd, was Silva – a person nearly two meters tall was not common.
This father and son appearing together outside of Kukuroo Mountain, without even needing to look at the "Career Active" on Zeno's clothes, one could guess they were likely there for work.
"Mollus, are you free?" Zeno walked over alone. "There's a mission, and I think it would be much easier with your help. Although I said I wouldn't assign you missions, assisting in a mission is a different matter. It's a good opportunity for you to gradually get back into your rhythm."
"…" What kind of high-level mission? Wasn't the current head of the Zoldyck family enough?
Seeing Mollus glance in Silva's direction, Zeno smiled playfully. "If you're willing to come, there won't be a need for Silva to be the assistant."
Mollus tilted her head in surprise. She couldn't imagine under what circumstances she could be equivalent to the current head of the Zoldyck family.
"Are you coming?" Zeno said. "If you come, his share of the money will be yours."
Zoldyck family members assisting each other in missions were not unpaid; the remuneration was divided according to the situation.
Before agreeing to join, it seemed Zeno wasn't planning to reveal more mission information. Mollus didn't doubt that Zeno would intentionally try to trick her, but was money that easy to earn? It might be quite troublesome.
"Completing missions isn't just about combat; the flexible application of abilities is also very important," Zeno saw through her hesitation. "I need to borrow your abilities, and it won't be very troublesome. I guarantee you'll definitely profit from this, what do you say?"
After thinking about it, Mollus nodded in agreement.
"Okay," Zeno replied with a smile, then took out his phone and called Silva, who was standing in the distance. "I've settled it here. How about I reimburse your travel expenses or something?"
"…That's not necessary," Silva replied. "Then I'll go on another mission."
Without any guilt about making his own son travel in vain, Zeno finished the call and cheerfully beckoned to Mollus, "There's no time to waste, let's go."
Mollus took a step to follow, then silently looked back, while Silva's figure had already disappeared into the crowd.