While JohnWillStab, Bonifacius and Crown were in Calsh doing their pseudo-teaching job, the Thief, Alex, Revenberry and Bromy sat around in the dining room as Foxly emerged from the kitchen with a massive tray of food.

A pile of rice with the odd particle of colour, evidence of some sort of spices.

Cartoon-like steam rose up from the rice spreading the smell all over the room.

Everyone in the room observed the mountain of rice as Foxly walked back to the kitchen and returned with a massive pot of sauce, it was light orange in colour and had a distinct smell of curry.

“Foxly… dude… since when can you cook?” Bromy questioned.

“Well, since I had some off-screen time during the training arc, I picked up a cookbook!” he explained smugly.

“Cooking feels as easy as breathing, y’know…” he remarked.

Alex was the first to take some of the food, after Revenberry’s food-making attempts Alex was considering living life as a plant, living off sunlight.

“It’s just rice!” the sword-form Thal exclaimed.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right!” Alex thought back.

He placed a spoonful of the curry sauce on his plate and carefully move the food towards his mouth.

The room went silent as Alex slowly chewed the food; everyone studied his face for even the slightest reaction.

“HOLY SHIT! IT’S ACTUALLY GOOD!” Alex exclaimed.

“Seriously?!” Bromy asked taking some of the food next.

“I-It actually is!” he exclaimed.

The entirety of the guild consumed the ungodly amount of food, it took about half an hour but every last grain of rice was ingested.

“I’m glad you liked it!” Foxly exclaimed as he grabbed the plates and brought them back into the kitchen.

Nobody saw Foxly for the rest of the day.

The next day at around the same time Foxly emerged from the kitchen again.

“I did it!” he exclaimed.

In his hand he held a massive pile of rice, unlike before this rice was tinted a slightly red colour with black spots, the sauce looked different this time as well, it was dark red and had large chunks of some sort of fruit or vegetable.

“W-what… is this?” asked Alex, more disturbed by the look of this meal than the last.

“Spicy pepper rice with a sweet chilli sauce, in it are stewed potatoes and marinated chicken,” Foxly explained.

“Chicken? This world has chickens?” thought Bromy.

The Thief was the first to grab some food this time.

“I love spicy food!” she exclaimed piling on some of the rice and some of the sauce.

“Mm, I’m not really into spicy food… I think I’ll pass on it…” Bromy remarked.

Foxly’s expression darkened.

“I suggest you do give it a try…” he said in a monotone.

“…”

“…”

While everyone else ate, fully focused on their plates, Bromy stood up from the table.

“I’m good…”

He eyed Foxly suspiciously as he walked down to his basement.

Like the previous day, the food was eaten except for Bromy’s portion.

Later that night…

Bromy lay in his wooden bed, he dragged it down into the basement from his actual room.

In the pitch darkness of the lab, Foxly stood over him with a faint curry-orange glow in his eyes.

His expression was blank.

The next morning, Bromy walked into the dining room, it was still too early for Foxly to be making food.

Due to the sheer size of his meals, everyone opted to skip breakfast in favour of eating more of the dinner itself.

“Sup…” Bromy said after a long, drawn-out yawn.

“Hello…” Alex said sitting at the table, looking into the distance blankly.

Bromy leaned in towards him.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” Bromy questioned.

Alex turned to face him; his face still blank.

“Yes… I am, you should try the curry next time, it was delicious…” he said before standing up and walking away, as Alex left through the front door, Bromy could see him turning back to look at him.

Bromy noticed Alex didn’t have Thal on him.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Bromy thought, he knew one thing; it had something to do with Foxly.

He moved into the kitchen and saw it, the entire room was a mess, curry was everywhere, plates and bowls piled up and in the centre of the room was a massive pot of boiling sauce.

In the pitch-black kitchen, Foxly sat and peeled potatoes in silence.

Bromy squinted.

“This place looks messy…” he remarked.

Foxly didn’t look back.

“Indeed… maybe I’ll get it cleaned once dinner’s ready…”

Bromy kept looking around the kitchen for any clues, any strange ingredients or escaped lab experiments.

“I getcha… what’s on today’s menu?” he asked.

Foxly’s head snapped by ninety degrees to the right, a single blank looking eye focusing on him.

“Curry,”

Bromy stepped back.

“A-alright, I’ll make sure to get some this time!” he said taking another step back,

He looked back and saw Revenberry standing in his way.

“Where are you going? Food’s going to be ready soon…” she said in a monotone.

” I’m… just going to… wash up!” Bromy exclaimed gesturing to his hands.

Revenberry looked at him blankly.

“Be sure to come back quickly…” she remarked.

Bromy felt a chill run down his spine as the next words left her mouth.

“The food is delicious…”

He pushed past her rushing over to the basement.

Once there he locked the door behind him.

“I’m not sure what the fuck’s going on… but it’s to do with Foxly’s food…” Bromy thought, he went through his friends list.

“There’s only one person I can call…” Bromy thought.

The next day, dark clouds loomed over the desert. Bromy snuck out of his basement through the window and off several meters from the base.

At no point did the light in the base come on since he left.

In the distance, Bromy heard the sound of a cart approaching.

It was Pedecree, he was wearing his chef’s hat and a long black trench coat.

In his hand was a black suitcase.

“Pedecree! You made it!” Bromy exclaimed with visible relief.

Pedecree hopped off his cart.

“Mm,” he looked serious.

“What’s the situation?” asked Pedecree.

Bromy shook his head.

“I’m not sure… I managed to escape this morning, they’re all… off…” he remarked.

“Off?” Pedecree questioned not taking his eyes off the base.

“Yeah… they keep trying to get me to eat Foxly’s curry…”

“Curry?” Pedecree’s eyes left the base and focused on Bromy.

“Yeah…” he nodded.

Pedecree breathed a sigh.

“Looks to me like a gastronomical-poltergeist…”

“Poltergeist?!” Bromy demanded.

“Like a haunting?” he asked.

Pedecree nodded.

“A gastronomical-poltergeist can only latch onto you through the food, I take it you haven’t eaten any of Foxly’s food?” he asked.

“I did…” Bromy replied.

“How strange…” Pedecree scratched his head.

“No, it makes sense – you’re a smoker, the less flavour you feel the weaker the spirit’s hold over you is…” Pedecree breathed a sigh.

“I’m not sure who we’re dealing with…” Pedecree said grabbing his suitcase and walking towards the base.

“You should stay here… I’ll go send whoever is inside that base back to their infernal kitchen in hell!” he explained.

Pedecree stepped into the base, a gust of cold air had little to no effect on him thanks to him being a wolfman.

Pedecree closed the door behind him.

This wasn’t the first time he dealt with this kind of haunting.

He was bathed in complete darkness; the sound of footsteps filled the room.

In a clean, commanding tone he said: “I would like to make a reservation, a table for two, I won’t stay longer than half an hour,”

The reason he asked for a table for two is simple, if things go south, he can ask to step outside to make a call and see where this second person is – he can use that chance to try and escape.

No reply came from within.

He waited another few seconds, his courage not wavering.

In the distance, he heard the sound of a chair creaking as it was pulled back, a candle lit the distant table.

“I got a table by the door…” he thought, “looks like they acknowledged my time-restriction…”

He walked over feeling the coat on his back get pulled off into the darkness, it was loosely thrown against a nearby coat rack.

He sat at the table, feeling an invisible force from behind push him uncomfortably close to the table.

“This is… a very potent haunting…” he thought.

The chair opposite him creaked as it too was pulled back.

The flame atop the candle danced silently.

Pedecree was a master food-exorcist, he knew all the tricks and all the best practices.

In order to exercise a spirit, you need to know its name, but the only thing keeping you safe and the “game” civilised is the “restaurant roleplay” both parties are partaking in.

If Pedecree needlessly upset the spirit, he could be “thrown out” – what that actually means could be far worse than a perma-death.

“What would your recommendation be for the starter course?” he asked.

The room remained silent as the candlelight disappeared and re-appeared as if to simulate a time-skip.

Before Pedecree now sat a bowl of soup.

He ate one spoon, waited a few seconds and ate another, lastly, he took another and blew on it before eating it.

“It’s… really good…” he thought.

“Compliments to the chef,” he said as he continued eating.

The three-spoon rule is a symbolic gesture, like showing that the meal is so good you had to eat three spoons before you could even complement it, any more and you’d come off as rude and a glutton.

“That soup was… really good… I hope he slips up on the next dish…”

After taking a breath, he spoke up again.

“What would your recommendation be for the second course?” he asked.

Again, the candle flickered as before him appeared a plate of curry, the rice was white as snow and the sauce was red as mars.

“It looks delicious,” Pedecree said, for the second course, the complement needs to come directly after receiving the meal, this symbolises that the previous serving was enough to satisfy your immediate hunger.

If you rush into eating the meal the spirit may take it as you saying they’re being greedy or that their serving sizes are too small.

Pedecree began to eat the meal.

He noticed that there wasn’t a glass of water at his side, this means that the spirit doesn’t consider your tastes refined enough to need cleansing after the last meal, it’s a provocation of sorts.

If the glass does appear and you refuse to take even a sip, the ghost will then take insult instead, as if you said its food is all so bland mixing the flavours makes no difference.

Pedecree analysed every bite of the food.

“Damn it… it’s good… there’s always the third course…” he thought.

He continued to eat the curry until there was about a third left.

Pedecree began to sweat.

“Just how strong is this spirit…?” he thought.

Desperate to get any additional favour with the spirit, he decided to gamble.

“The meal is delicious, but I must leave some space for dessert, do you think I could get my leftovers wrapped up for later?” he asked.

This was a gamble, there was a one-in-three chance the spirit would take this statement at face value and thus as a compliment, as if to say you couldn’t let any food go to waste.

Otherwise, it could think the meal’s not to his liking or that he wishes to insult the spirit by giving their meal to their pet.

After a long, tense silence the candle flickered revealing a brown paper bag filled with the curry.

Pedecree nodded.

“Thank you,”

Last course, dessert.

A rookie mistake is to ask for the spirit to recommend something for the third time, that’s equivalent to saying “Your two meals didn’t tell me anything about your culinary skills and I don’t care, just give me whatever…”

Thus, the third course was a ticket-out, if you order something basic the spirit could be offended, but after going out of your way to gauge their skills for two meals, a difficult request is more than just a compliment.

Thus, a ridiculous request that the spirit is doomed to fail is an option.

He began to sweat as the candle flickered once more, a single, half-full glass of wine appeared – it was the symbol that his time was almost up.

“I would like to get something sweet, with a hint of salt!” Pedecree requested.

Once more the candles flickered.

Drinking the wine was optional.

If you know wines well you could complement the chef about how it went well with the given meal, but wines were Pedecree’s culinary weakness.

If he did take a sip and didn’t comment, that could be taken as an insult, as if to say the wine is nothing remarkable.

Before him appeared a salted-caramel custard.

“It looks great,” Pedecree remarked, trying some of it.

“Consistency, good…”

“Flavour… good…”

He breathed a sigh as he finished the desert quickly, running over the set time limit was an easy way to rack up your tab.

Once he finished the candle blinked out of existence, replaced by five individual candles, one for every star the given chef possesses, for a spirit possessing the body of a mortal, five is the limit.

Even so, Pedecree never dealt with anything more than three stars.

He spoke up.

“The meal was delicious, however…” the light flickered.

He pinched the first candle’s flame.

“The soup was too watery…”

He pinched the next candle’s flame.

“It also lacked salt,”

You should never give more than two complaints about one dish unless necessary, otherwise, it looks like your desperate or that your previous complements were lies.

“The curry was…-” Pedecree gritted his teeth, his finger next to the flame of the candle.

“The curry was delicious…” he said reluctantly.

“The custard… was… too sweet…” he said uncertainly, pinching a single flame.

When he let go of it, he saw that the flame reignited.

When his complaints aren’t honest or deserved, the rating can’t be hurt.

“Of course, it was sweet… it was caramel…” Pedecree sighed.

Three of the five stars were still lit.

He breathed a sigh as the candles disappeared, in its place a piece of paper appeared.

“Receipt”

Pedecree nodded as vast quantities of blood poured from his body and onto the floor.

He gritted his teeth, the process didn’t hurt, but it was highly uncomfortable and he felt seriously drained, both literally and mentally.

He took the paper bag and his suitcase.

“Thank you for the delicious meals,” he said politely.

“I may have lost this fight… but if I can get its name, it’ll be worth it!” he thought.

“Before I leave, may I ask the name of the chef?” Pedecree asked.

From the now pitch-black room came a deep, guttural voice.

“Ben…”

“Uncle Ben…”

Pedecree felt a chill run down his spine, his feet began to shake, his hands trembled as he forced a smile.

“I-I see… I… Thanks once again…” Pedecree managed to say as he stepped out, closing the door behind him and collapsing to the ground outside the base.