Chapter 27: Dinner for the Three Siblings

Chapter 27: The Three Siblings' Dinner

"That's sharp..." Klein chuckled, using the rich "experience" from his past life to add another dark remark

"In fact, there is no evidence to suggest that those big shots possess brains at all."

"Good! Very good!" Benson laughed heartily and gave a thumbs up. "Klein, you've become much more humorous than before."

Taking a breath, he continued

"I still have to go to the docks this afternoon and won't be able to rest until tomorrow. When that time comes, um... we'll go to the 'Tingen City Housing Improvement Company' together to see if they have any cheap and decent terraced houses for rent. Also, we need to visit Mr. Frankie first."

"The landlord, sir?" Klein asked back in confusion.

Did the current landlord happen to own terraced houses in a good neighborhood?

Benson glanced at his brother and said amusedly

"You haven't forgotten that we have a one-year rental contract, have you? It's only been six months."

"Hiss..." Klein immediately sucked in a breath of cold air.

He had truly forgotten about that!

Although the rent was paid weekly, the lease was for a full year. Moving now would be a breach of contract; if they were taken to court, they would have to pay a massive amount of money!

"You still lack sufficient social experience." Benson touched his receding black hairline and sighed. "This was a clause I fought hard to get. Otherwise, Mr. Frankie would only agree to three-month terms. For the wealthy, landlords lease directly for one, two, or even three years to seek stability. But for us—for our former selves and our neighbors—landlords are always worried that someone might meet with an accident and fail to pay rent, so they only want short-term contracts."

"That way, they can also raise the prices frequently depending on the situation," Klein added, drawing from the original owner's memory fragments and his own rental experiences.

Benson sighed.

"That is the reality and cruelty of today's society. Anyway, don't worry, the contract issue is easy to solve. To be honest, as long as we fall behind on one week's rent, Mr. Frankie will immediately throw us out and seize any valuable items. After all, his IQ is lower than a hamadryas baboon's; he can't handle anything too complicated."

Hearing this, Klein suddenly thought of a certain Sir Humphrey meme and shook his head seriously

"No, Benson, you're wrong."

"Why?" Benson looked puzzled.

"Mr. Frankie's IQ is still slightly higher than a hamadryas baboon's," Klein answered solemnly. Just as Benson flashed an understanding smile, Klein added, "If he's in a good mood."

"Haha!" Benson couldn't control his reaction.

After a burst of laughter, he pointed at Klein, momentarily unable to find the right words, and had to return to the main topic

"Of course, as gentlemen, we won't use such shameless methods. We will go to communicate with Mr. Frankie directly tomorrow. Believe me, he is very easy to persuade. Very easy."

Regarding this point, Klein had no doubt; the existence of the gas pipe was the strongest proof.

The brothers chatted for a while, putting the small amount of leftover pan-fried fish into a vegetable stew, and used the steam to soften the rye bread during the heating process.

Spreading a bit of butter on the bread, Klein and Benson had a simple meal, but they were still quite satisfied; after all, the milky aroma and sweetness left a lasting impression.

Once Benson went out, Klein also took 3 Soli and some loose copper pence and headed to the "Lettuce and Meat Market." He spent 6 pence on 1 pound of beef, 7 pence on a large piece of tender, low-bone Tasok fish, and also bought potatoes, peas, white radishes, rhubarb, lettuce, turnips, and other ingredients like rosemary, basil, cumin, and oil.

Throughout this process, he could still feel someone peering and watching him, but there was still no substantive contact.

After lingering for a while at the "Slin Bakery," Klein returned home and began using heavy objects, such as stacked books, to train his arm strength.

He had originally wanted to do military-style boxing to strengthen his body, but he had already forgotten even the basic calisthenics movements, let alone things encountered in military training. Out of necessity, he had to keep it as simple as possible.

Klein did not push himself too hard, as that would instead lead to exhaustion and increased danger. He stopped at the appropriate time and began flipping through the original owner's textbooks and notes, hoping to review the knowledge related to the Fourth Epoch.

...

At dusk, Benson and Melissa sat at the desk, looking at the arranged food, appearing as upright as senior primary school children.

Various mixed aromas composed a rich culinary overture: the soul-calling aroma of simmering beef, the distinct and lasting stimulation of mashed potatoes, the sweet entanglement of thick pea soup, the subtle and balanced harmony of stewed rhubarb, and the sweet, clean encirclement of butter on the rye bread.

Benson swallowed hard and looked back at Klein, who was placing a piece of golden-crisp fish onto a plate. He felt the fried aroma drill through his nose, into his throat, down his esophagus, and into his stomach.

*Gurgle!* His stomach made a distinct sound.

Klein rolled up his shirt sleeves, picked up the plate of fried fish, and placed it in the center of the tidied desk. Then, he turned around, took two large glasses of ginger beer from the cupboard, and placed them in front of Benson and himself respectively.

He smiled at Melissa and, as if by magic, produced a lemon pudding

"We have beer, and you have this."

"...Thank you," Melissa said softly as she took the lemon pudding.

Seeing this, Benson raised his glass and spoke with a smile

"Come, let's celebrate Klein finding a good job."

Klein raised his glass, clinked it with Benson's, and then with Melissa's lemon pudding

"Praise the Goddess!"

*Gulp.* He tilted his head back and took a sip; the spicy flavor burned down his esophagus, leaving a wonderful aftertaste.

Ginger beer's full name was ginger ale, but it actually contained no alcohol. It used the spiciness of ginger and the acidity of lemon to create a beer-like mouthfeel, making it a drink acceptable to women and children, though Melissa didn't particularly like the taste.

"Praise the Goddess!" Benson followed with a sip, while Melissa took a tiny bite of the lemon pudding, chewing repeatedly, reluctant to swallow.

"Try it," Klein said, putting down his glass and picking up a spoon, pointing to the table full of food.

Among these, he had the least confidence in the thick pea soup; after all, people on Earth wouldn't eat such strange things, so he could only "recreate" it based on the original owner's memory fragments.

As the elder brother, Benson did not stand on ceremony and scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

The taste of potatoes stewed to the limit and mashed into a pulp, mixed with a faint hint of lard and just the right amount of salt, caused his saliva to flow wildly and his appetite to soar.

"Not... bad... not bad at all," Benson praised indistinctly. "It's much more delicious than the kind I had at the company last time; they used cream back then."

*This can be considered my specialty...* Klein accepted the praise candidly

"It's all thanks to the instruction of the Welch family's chef."

Melissa looked toward the beef stew. Green basil leaves, green lettuce heads, and white radish chunks were immersed in the colorless broth, concealing the tender stewed beef. The colors were fresh, and the aroma was enticing.

She poked a piece of beef with her fork and chewed it, feeling that within the tenderness, there was still a lingering chewiness. A bit of saltiness, the faint sweetness of the radish, and the spicy fragrance of the basil worked together to stimulate the inherent deliciousness of the beef.

"...,..." She seemed to be praising something, but she couldn't stop eating.

Klein tasted it and, besides finding it delicious, he couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. It was still a step below his best standard; after all, some seasonings were missing and had to be replaced, making it inevitably a bit strange.

Of course, even at his best standard, his cooking was only passable.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of sympathy for the unsophisticated Benson and Melissa.

Swallowing the beef in his mouth, Klein then picked up a piece of fried Tasok fish sprinkled with cumin and rosemary. It was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, golden and delicious, with the savory aroma and the oiliness intertwining into one.

Nodding slightly, Klein tried a piece of stewed rhubarb, finding it alright—it helped cut through the richness of the meat.

Finally, he summoned his courage and scooped a spoonful of the thick pea soup.

*Too sweet, too sour...* Klein couldn't help but frown.

But seeing the satisfied expressions on Benson and Melissa's faces after they tasted it, he began to doubt his own sense of taste. He couldn't help but take a gulp of ginger beer to cleanse his tongue.

After this meal, all three siblings were so full that they couldn't get up from their chairs for a long time.

"Let us praise the Goddess once more!" Benson said contentedly, raising his last sip of ginger beer.

"Praise the Goddess!" Klein drained the last of his drink in one gulp.

"Praise the Goddess." Melissa, meanwhile, placed the small amount of lemon pudding she had been saving until the end into her mouth, savoring it back and forth.

Seeing this, Klein smiled, feeling slightly tipsy

"Melissa, that's not good. You should eat your favorite and best food at the beginning. That way, you can experience its most delicious side. Once you're full and your appetite drops, the taste will be diminished."

"No, it's just as delicious," Melissa replied firmly and stubbornly.

The three siblings chatted and laughed, digested for a while, and then worked together to clear the plates and cutlery, pouring the leftover frying oil back into its container.

After the bustle, one reviewed lessons, one self-studied accounting knowledge, and one continued to flip through textbooks and notes, living a fulfilling and satisfying life.

At 11 o'clock, the three Klein siblings extinguished the gas lamps and went to wash up and sleep.

...

The vision was dim and murky, and a sense of confusion set in. Suddenly, within Klein's field of vision, Dunn Smith appeared, wearing a black knee-length trench coat and a half-top hat.

"Captain!" Klein snapped awake, knowing clearly that he was in a dream.

Dunn's gray eyes were calm, as if he were discussing a trivial matter

"Someone has broken into your room. Pick up your revolver, force him into the hallway, and then leave the rest to us."

*Someone broke into my room? The watcher has finally made a move?* Klein was startled but didn't dare ask too much, merely nodding

"Understood!"

The scene before his eyes changed instantly, colors appearing in a chaotic mess, shattering like bubbles.

Opening his eyes, Klein carefully turned his head toward the window, only to see a thin and unfamiliar silhouette standing before the desk, silently searching for something.

(End of Chapter)