"Sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet." Schiller suddenly changed the subject, turned back to look at the menu and said: "My name is Naog Sohip, an honorary fellow at All Souls College, Oxford University, and also a
A historian and folklorist.”
Jerome's eyes widened even more, but soon he seemed to have remembered something and curled his lips, showing a slight expression of disdain.
"If you have a little understanding of history, you will find that the exploitation of the poor by the rich has been a social phenomenon since ancient times and has never changed due to the change of dynasties."
Schiller turned to look at the chef and said: "Do you think that if you become rich one day, you will give generously to the poor and never take nutrients from them?"
The chef nodded.
"Then I'm sorry, you can never become rich, because the rich themselves never control nutrients. All their nutrients come from the poor, so harvesting nutrients is a necessary condition for a person to become rich, and exploiting the poor is what makes them rich.
The inevitable process, not the result.”
The chef didn't seem to hear what Schiller was pointing at. He just blinked and waited.
"Wealth will always circulate upward. It is a stubborn disease that cannot be eradicated in human society. No system can change it. It is always a small group of people who control wealth and privileges."
"I completely understand your hatred, because you are not one of this small group of people, you are not them, so you can naturally say that if you become them one day, you will never be as dirty and dirty as them.
mean."
The chef's face became darker and darker, and he seemed to believe that Schiller was excusing these people, but Schiller did not give him a chance to speak, but spoke quickly.
"But it is a pity that this group of people will not feel dirty and despicable, because they are well-educated, understand how human society works, and understand how to become that small group of people, or even a minority
The few among them, the spire on the spire.”
"They are not ashamed of gathering nutrients and growing themselves, but are proud of it. Seven out of ten people can become kings, so they will kill the other three, and five out of seven people can become kings.
They just kill two more, which is as normal to them as eating and drinking."
"You gather this group of people here and provide them with delicious food and an opportunity for them to devour their own kind. In fact, not only are you not punishing them, but you are encouraging this trend."
"You think of them as a whole, but they don't think so, because the upward circulation of wealth is endless, and they think it's normal to kill and annex other people, because in their eyes, this is how society works.
There is no such thing as helping each other and getting through difficulties."
"So you're not actually torturing them, you're just changing what they go through every day in their daily lives in a different way for them to experience it again. Will you feel pain for changing your posture to go to the toilet one day?
"
The chef looked at him in a daze, and Schiller said: "Do you think their wailing and screaming now are repentance? No, it is just physiological, just like you cry when you are in pain, no different from a baby.
."
Schiller looked at the chef's dazed expression and said: "Don't believe what I say? Then why not give it a try? Stop controlling them, stop messing with their brains, and let them leave their precious last sanity to them.
You, is this not good?"
Before the chef said anything, Jerome had a look of hesitation on his face. He always felt that something was wrong.
Unexpectedly, Schiller's words were not surprising. He glanced at the restaurant and said: "I know that one day you gained enough power to take revenge on others, and then you adopted the most efficient method to complete your mission."
idea.”
"I think it's a little bit too much, like a dish with too much seasoning. You'd think using a human head to express the theme of eating one's self would be scary enough, but I think it undermines it.
The balance of flavors.”
The chef looked into Schiller's eyes and asked: "Then what do you think? Mr. Sohip."
"I pursue the original taste of the ingredients more." Schiller obviously meant something. He said: "If you want people to experience terror and despair, you don't have to put those things on the plate. Some small
Hints and tricks are enough to make these people show their ugly faces, which only shows their stupidity, doesn't it?"
"What do you think I should do with this dish?"
"First of all, I'm not sure you can bring them back to consciousness." Schiller shook his head and said: "If their brains are irreversibly messed up, then I'm afraid I can only taste you with regret and
An imperfect work."
"It's not irreversible." The chef finally chose to confess. He said: "Since you have seen that the theme of the restaurant is circulation, I can tell you clearly that even if you leave the restaurant now, when the clock strikes midnight, you will
I will still come back here, this is a restaurant no one can leave.”
"Really? It's quite a coincidence that I just left a room that no one can leave." Schiller said nonchalantly: "I guess that's the case. You trapped them here in some way."
The chef didn't seem to want to talk to him anymore, but turned around and walked to the front of the restaurant.
Snap!
He clapped his hands vigorously, and the scene in the restaurant began to reverse. Those who had come and gone returned to their rightful places, but this time there were neither cold dishes nor wine on the table, and the banquet had obviously not begun yet.
But Schiller was already sitting here, and it was obviously the first time for Jerome to see this scene, and since he was shocked by the different scenes in the restaurant, it proved that his memory had not been touched.
But all the other diners seemed to be waking up from a dream.
"Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, today's dishes have been adjusted. I need to invite a special friend to visit the kitchen." The head chef nodded to everyone. Some people glanced at their watches and found that they hadn't arrived yet.
When it was time to start the meal, nothing was said.
Schiller stood up and followed the chef to the back kitchen. The back kitchen was like every Michelin restaurant, spacious and regular, with rows and rows of chefs standing in front of the operating tables.
There were two chairs in the waiting area here. Schiller sat down on one of them unceremoniously. He crossed one leg over the other and said: "It's very simple. You can just say that you kidnapped them, and
I want to play a game with them."
"It's that simple." The chef narrowed his eyes, seemingly dissatisfied.
"The winner is the diners, the loser is the ingredients, it's that simple."
The chef seemed a little interested. He said: "What type of game are you playing? Poker?"
"That's too cliche and has nothing to do with the theme of the restaurant. Since you said they don't really respect food at all, then why not just play with it - you just do what a chef should do."
Schiller quickly left the kitchen and returned to his seat, but what he didn't expect was that Jerome spoke the moment he sat down. He said: "You idiot, you messed up everything."
!”
"I don't know why you said that."
"I have almost figured out all the rules of the cycle." Jerome gritted his teeth and pushed up his glasses and said: "I have passed six levels, and now only the last level of after-dinner wine is left, and you have changed everything.
Rules, this makes all my previous efforts in vain."
"Don't try to hold me morally hostage," Schiller said, "especially when you have no intention of sharing information about any of these six levels with me."
There was a hint of gloom in Jerome's eyes that was not easy to detect, but he disguised it well, like a mad scientist who risked his life for academics. He said: "I was close to the truth, and you ruined everything, you ruined everything."
My only entertainment."
"You are not as calm as you show. On the contrary, your time-delaying strategy seems to me very stupid and like an idiot. I have to say that another person I have seen who is exactly like you performed much better than you.
."
Jerome's face darkened almost immediately. He could no longer complete the disguise, but Schiller put one arm on the table, leaned forward and looked at him and said: "Your brother is much better than you."
With a bang, the dinner plate was knocked over. The chef who had just walked out looked at Jerome with a dissatisfied expression, and Jerome clenched his fist tightly.
Schiller observed Jerome's emotions and found that he didn't seem to be pretending. He didn't look like a clown. Could it be that the real clown was Jerome?
Soon the chef cleared his throat and said: "Thank you very much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend my banquet. In order to thank you for your continued support, I will provide you with seven dishes."
"First of all, the pre-dinner drink, I named it 'Gotham Sunset'. I know this name is a bit cliché, but it actually represents my thrilling day. I must tell you that it was the first time I came to Gotham.
What happened to Tan..."
The chef began to talk about his experience in Gotham and how he had the spark of inspiration to combine several wines to create this special aperitif. He also talked about the flavor of the wine and the people who had tasted it.
Celebrities also spoke about what Bruce Wayne said about the wine.
Everyone below seemed to be listening attentively. Some nodded frequently, some even took out something to write down, some applauded happily, and some were so moved that they had tears in their eyes.
Then the chef began to tell the story of the cold cuts. He spent nearly two hours telling all the sources of inspiration, implementation process, stories behind the seven dishes he had arranged, the flavors of the dishes and the connotations to be expressed.
The waiter began to serve the dishes in order.
After the pre-dinner wine was served, it had actually been two hours since the chef mentioned the story about the meal wine. This time was not long nor short, but it was far from the first point of the forgetting curve.
The waiters walked to the window step by step and stood up. The chef showed a smile to everyone and said: "Before we drink the first glass of wine together, I must tell you some unfortunate news - you may not be able to leave smoothly.
Here it is.”
Some people were confused, some were muttering, the chef raised his hand slightly, and Schiller saw movement on the ceiling. He looked up and saw a spine.
A blood-red spine that had been stripped of bones, flesh and fascia hung on his head. If Schiller remembered correctly, this thing was the thing that held his head down before.
Everyone has a spine on their head, and a dense network of nerves covers the entire ceiling. Schiller can even see many familiar neural structures in it. This thing is surprisingly scientific.
But this obviously frightened the diners, and the chef reset them to a waking time. They couldn't accept such a terrifying sight, and they screamed and wanted to get out of their chairs.
The spine extended downward and came into contact with the brainstem that controls movement, and then penetrated into the neck. The nerves spread down the spine, and everyone's heads were lowered.
"I didn't say this time lasts forever." The chef raised his glass and said, "As long as you finish the seven courses, you can leave naturally."
"But it's a pity that because of some previous problems, I didn't prepare enough ingredients. I'm afraid I have to ask you to donate generously... No, I don't want your money. I think some of you here are the best ingredients.
."
Ignoring everyone's horrified expressions, the chef sighed softly and said: "Now, on the paper in front of you, write down my inspiration for making this glass of wine, my story, the flavor of the wine, the origin of the raw materials, anything will do.
"
"The ten people who write the worst will be the ingredients in the next dish - and everyone else will enjoy them."
The chef drank the normal amount of wine in the glass, his expression became gloomy and he said: "Start writing, friends."