Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0177

Abby

My heart pounds as the room goes quiet. What on earth is happening right now?

We’re all looking at each other—me, Karl, John, and the homeless man. His eyes meet mine, full of a C0ntent © 2024 (N/ô)velDrama.Org.

sort of knowing energy that leaves me speechless. Is this a joke? He really has experience cooking

with black truffles, some of the rarest and most expensive in the world?

“You look confused, so I’ll explain,” he says, smiling through his beard. “I was once a chef in France

and Italy. Emphasis on was. But I’ve still got my skills.”

Karl scoffs, breaking the silence. “You’ve got to be kidding me. A chef? You expect us to believe that?”

The man just shrugs, a tiny smile on his lips. “Believe what you want. I know how to cook with black

truffles, and you, my friends, are missing a crucial ingredient. That’s all I’m saying.”

Karl snorts. “Yeah, right. What’s next? Are you a secret millionaire, too?”

I shoot Karl a glance. His skepticism is understandable, but there’s something about this man that

captivates me. Maybe it’s the sincerity in his eyes, or maybe it’s the unexpected way that we just met

him. But if there’s even the tiniest chance that he knows something, then why not listen?

“Karl, come on. What’s the harm in hearing him out?” I say, finally breaking my silence. My voice is soft

but certain, and I hope it conveys how genuinely curious I am. “I mean, we’re stumped, aren't we?”

Karl grumbles, clearly not thrilled with the idea, but nods. “Fine, whatever. It’s not like we’re making any

progress on this dish anyway.”

John, who’s been silently observing the exchange, finally speaks. “I say let’s give him a shot. What do

we have to lose?”

Karl throws his hands in the air. “My last shred of sanity, probably. But go on, enlighten us, Chef... what

should we call you?”

“You may just call me Anton,” the man replies, seemingly unperturbed by Karl’s skepticism.

John leans against the counter, arms crossed, intrigued. “So, Anton, you were a chef in Europe?

Cooked with black truffles often?”

Anton nods, his eyes drifting away for a moment as if he’s back in a different time, a different life. “Yes,

I worked at a few Michelin-starred restaurants in France and Italy. I have made this dish you’re trying to

master more times than I can count.”

The atmosphere in the room changes. My eyes meet Karl’s for a moment; his face is a hard mask of

skepticism, but I see a flicker of something hidden behind his gaze—curiosity? Annoyance? I can’t

quite put my finger on it.

“Look,” Anton says, pulling us back to the present. “I know how this sounds. A homeless guy claiming

to be a former high-profile chef? But life has a funny way of bringing us to unexpected places. One

wrong turn, one mistake, and here we are.”

“Okay. So what’s the missing ingredient, Anton?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper.

But Anton doesn't tell us. He just grins wider, as if savoring a secret he’s not yet ready to share. “Ah,

that’s the magic part, isn’t it? Would you really want me to spoil it? Some things are better experienced

firsthand, no?” Draмaոovеls.cом

“Alright, Anton,” I say, smiling back at him. “Keep your secret, for now. But you’ll have to at least give us

a demonstration, don’t you think?”

Anton’s eyes twinkle, and he nods. “Absolutely. It would be my pleasure.”