The secretaries, who were now no different from Evil and Cheche’s secretaries rather than just Evil’s secretaries, filtered them primarily, and James filtered them secondarily.
“I’ve carefully selected one from each field. Of course, they’re all Center-affiliated organizations.”
“Hmm.”
Just then, colorful dishes were served. The only person who thanked the waiter, who was completely stiff while placing plates on the table, was Cheche alone.
Evil sat crookedly and roughly flipped through the documents.
Places dying to become friends with Cheche. To be precise… places wanting to create connections with himself through Cheche.
He wasn’t trying to make Cheche join these organizations. Because Cheche already belonged to Evil. However, it was necessary to test which field would bring out his abilities most greatly.
Of course, even if he showed tremendous talent, Evil wouldn’t let him go around outside. Evil planned to take Cheche with him everywhere he went.
In other words, put differently, since Cheche would be with Evil anyway, Evil didn’t need to hold documents with organization information and agonize like this. However, Evil wasn’t aware of that fact.
“Hey, eat.”
Evil put down the documents as soon as serving was finished. Because if he was looking at documents, Cheche wouldn’t eat.
“Are you buying again today?”
“Yeah, be grateful.”
“This time I want to buy.”
‘This one meal costs more than Cheche-ssi’s annual salary…!’
James cried inwardly.
Evil chuckled.
“Buy for me later and just hurry up and eat for now.”
“Yes, enjoy your meal.”
Cheche brought his fork over the foie gras sprinkled with gold powder. Having learned through numerous experiences that Cheche would get full while eating appetizers, Evil had told them to prepare only a couple of main dishes and dessert. The dishes the restaurant prepared were foie gras topped with gold powder and plump shrimp drizzled with special sauce.
“Is it good?”
“Yes.”
He answered well with a face that didn’t even know what delicious meant.
No matter what he fed him, the reaction was dry, so he didn’t know what he liked. But he’d find out someday. There was plenty of time.
After watching the lips moving to chew, Evil also started eating. While Cheche nibbled on half a piece of foie gras, Evil finished one foie gras and eight shrimp, and three savory breads to be eaten with six kinds of sauces. Honestly, he could have inhaled all the shrimp and bread, but he held back because Cheche had to eat too.
“It’s delicious.”
It was quite good. Strangely, originally everything he ate felt similar, so he’d never sought out famous restaurants, but since having meals with the refugee, the words “it’s delicious” often flowed out.
Having emptied his portion in an instant and become bored, Evil scanned the documents again instead of urging him to eat faster.
The majority of Soul Users, when a disaster occurs, are deployed there to comfort the hearts of disaster victims. But when Evil thought about it, Cheche rather belonged to disaster victims and seemed like he should be the one receiving comfort.
There was a high possibility he’d show talent in illusion techniques. During the basic education as an Aura User that Cheche received over the past week, there was simple illusion technique education, and Cheche did quite well for a first-timer. The instructor had been impressed.
Those who perform illusion technique stages are called ‘Showsellers’. Showsellers wear costumes matching the performance concept and stand before the public to perform, and most stage costumes are famous for being splendid. He did want to see the refugee wearing white stage costume with angel wings, but the disadvantage of having many external activities was too great. Psychological treatment could be done by accompanying Evil when he was deployed to disaster areas, but illusion technique performances required Cheche to go alone.
‘Absolutely not.’
Especially, Showsellers were celebrities no different from singers or actors. Though he was very curious about the illusion techniques Cheche would perform and his appearance in stage costume, performing in front of the public didn’t match the guy’s personality either.
What would this refugee want to do?
Evil stared intently at Cheche. Cheche, sitting across from him, still hadn’t emptied even two-thirds of his portion.
If he lifted that top, the emaciated torso would be covered with bruises. The refugee was self-harming. The smell of blood he’d caught at the hospital that time was probably this guy’s too. Since entering the mansion, he hadn’t gone as far as self-harm that drew blood, but… Evil found the fact of self-harming itself very… extremely disagreeable.
“Hey, tear off a bigger piece of bread. Do you think you’re really a sparrow?”
He pushed the plate with bread toward Cheche.
“Eat some shrimp too.”
“Yes.”
He pushed the plate with plump shrimp too, but had to stop because the plates bumped into each other.
“The table’s damn narrow.”
The table was wide. The plates were just crowded only in front of Cheche.
James sighed inwardly as he looked at his desolate seat.
I’m still eating too… It seems he’s forgotten I’m here. How fortunate. I hope he continues to forget my existence.
Whether he knew or not that everything was piled only in front of him, Cheche chewed and swallowed what was in his mouth before stabbing a shrimp with his fork from the plate Evil had pushed forward.
“Hey, hey!”
Evil stopped Cheche just as he was about to put it in his mouth.
“Don’t you know how to peel shrimp?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve always eaten them whole, so I’ve never peeled one.”
“You’ve never peeled a shrimp shell?”
“No.”
Come to think of it, all the shrimp dishes they’d eaten together so far had come already peeled.
“You really have all kinds of issues.”
Evil picked up the shrimp with an incredulous face.
“You just do it like this.”
“…….”
“Like this….”
“You don’t know either, Director.”
Cheche, staring intently, delivered the killing blow, and Evil threw down the shrimp crushed between his fingers.
Thinking about it, he’d never peeled one by hand either. Most came already peeled, and he’d always used aura to peel them. Today too, he’d peeled them using aura.
“Hey, you don’t need to know. Most come peeled anyway. And I can just peel them for you anyway.”
Before he even finished speaking, the shrimp on the plate began shedding their shells. It was telekinesis using Motion Aura.
“There, right?”
Evil looked at Cheche with a smirk. Cheche looked once at the plate now holding only plump, pink shrimp meat, then looked up at Evil grinning confidently.
“Thank you.”
“If you’re grateful, hurry up and eat.”
“You could use that Motion Aura for something more meaningful….”
“Ah, shut up and just fucking eat!”
Evil squawked and picked up his papers again. However, the letters didn’t register, and soon he was sneaking glances at Cheche moving his lips as he chewed.
Having the crime of possessing ears and eyes that heard and saw everything, James wondered if he was dreaming with his eyes open and pinched his cheek. Of course it wasn’t a dream. He didn’t have this kind of groundbreaking imagination.
Evil Devil peeled shrimp… Has the day of death arrived? If Evil dies, the world will be in chaos… I should liquidate my stocks….
He could only think such foolish thoughts.
***
After the peaceful (to someone, horror-movie-like) shrimp party ended, fragrant flower-petaled cake slices and cool vegetable drinks came out as dessert. Though they looked deliciously sweet, Evil threw in an objection.
“No, this isn’t a joke. It’s the dead of winter outside and you’re bringing cold drinks? The refugee will catch a cold.”
“I won’t catch a cold.”
“You caught one last time.”
“That was the only time in my life.”
Cheche repeated the same thing he’d said to the butler. Evil’s reaction was different from Hips’.
“Even if Tar was a hot country, how could you have never caught one? You probably just didn’t know it was a cold and it passed.”
“You’ve never caught a cold either, Director.”
“That’s because I’m me.”
Evil shrugged and sent away the waiter who was wavering over whether to take back the cold drink or not.
“If you catch a cold from drinking this, you’re dead.”
Evil threatened, but the probability of catching a cold was slim. These days Cheche was confused about whether it really was winter. The house was so warm, and the car he rode commuting with Evil was so warm that his clothing had actually become lighter. Even the private plane or helicopter they occasionally used during lunch breaks was warm.
aww