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"I'm afraid I can't keep you company at this banquet. Please enjoy your meal." With that, the bishop ignored the surprised and uncertain looks on everyone's faces and walked out of the luxurious and probing private room.

Behind him, a group of nobles exchanged uneasy glances.

The delicacies on the table gradually cooled down, but no one was in the mood to continue enjoying them.

The restaurant owner followed behind the bishop, carefully attending to him, his head bowed and a wry smile playing on his lips.

"No need to see me off." Just as the bishop was about to walk out of the restaurant, a fragrance that was extremely familiar yet distant, as if from the depths of a vague memory, quietly entered his nostrils.

The bishop suddenly stopped in his tracks.

The restaurant owner, who was feeling uneasy because the bishop had left, keenly noticed the fleeting unusual thing at that moment.

"Your Excellency the Bishop?" the restaurant owner asked cautiously.

The bishop tilted his head slightly, seemingly trying to pinpoint the source of the aroma. After a moment, he murmured, "What is this smell?"

The restaurant owner was taken aback, then a sudden inspiration struck him! He immediately growled to the waiter behind him, "Quick! Go to the kitchen! Who's making a new dish? Or is anything ready? Bring a portion over! And be quick!"

The waiter scrambled off, while the restaurant owner nervously wrung his hands, waiting with the bishop at the door.

Soon, the waiter returned almost running, carrying a small bowl with a silver lid, his face beaming with excitement: "Master! Someone is applying for a chef position, trying to make a very simple red soup stew. He says... he said he found the recipe in an old food shop!"

The restaurant owner took the silver bowl, lifted the lid, and an even richer aroma instantly filled the air.

Although the ingredients used are far less luxurious than the signature dishes, they are simple and can almost be described as turning the ordinary into the extraordinary.

He carefully presented it to the bishop.

The bishop was silent for a moment, then said to the restaurant owner, "Find a quiet place."

The restaurant owner understood immediately and led the bishop to a quiet private room.

The bishop sat alone at the table, picked up a spoon, scooped up a small spoonful of soup, and put it in his mouth without hesitation.

He closed his eyes, as if recalling something, while the restaurant owner held his breath, waiting anxiously.

After a long while, the bishop slowly opened his eyes, his emotions unreadable: "It's so similar...it really tastes just like it did back then."

Upon hearing this, the restaurant owner immediately asked excitedly, "Sir! Do you need to see him? I'll bring him here right away!"

"No need," the bishop interrupted him. "If that person saw me now, they would probably be disappointed."

The restaurant owner was taken aback: "But he's not that legendary chef from back then."

The bishop remained silent for a long time.

"Yes, no matter how similar, it's not." With these meaningful words, the Blood Moon Bishop walked straight out of the restaurant where countless people had placed their hopes for "legend."

......

The restaurant kitchen.

Chi Que was somewhat uneasy at this moment.

Once he actually got the hang of it, he realized that the restaurant's seasoning was completely different from the taste he had made before.

So much so that, although he was confident that he was no less capable than anyone except the head chef, whether he could pass was still unknown.

[You have successfully impressed a special diner with your culinary skills; your chef proficiency has increased by 10 points.]

Ok?

Chi Que was taken aback.

at the same time.

"You've passed." The restaurant owner's voice came from behind him, sounding somewhat tired.

"I'll pay you 100 blood coins a day, but you don't need to come to work. To be honest, your seasoning isn't very popular with our restaurant's customers right now." The owner paused. "When I need your help, I'll contact you and give you a bonus depending on the situation."

As he spoke, he flicked a blood-gold coin over, a coin worth one hundred.

Chi Que stood blankly at the restaurant entrance.

These conditions are exceptionally good.

An ordinary cook's daily wage is only twenty coins, but he gave him five times that amount directly, and he didn't even have to do any work.

"It seems that someone who once tasted my stew has become a big shot over time?" Chi Que speculated.

This was his analysis from observing the current shop owner. There was still a hint of flattery on his face, and when he made his demands, the contempt in his eyes was obvious. Either he valued him, or he had other uses for him.

Considering my past actions, the truth behind such favorable conditions becomes clear.

However, he still cannot conclude who it is.

Because Chi Que had no evidence, although there could be a lot of supporting evidence if we followed a certain possibility, he disliked this kind of reasoning that assumed a result and then looked for the cause in reverse, as it seemed like sophistry.

"However," he suddenly realized, his expression turning strange, "I actually really intended to work..."

He had already planned to show off in the shop, invent new dishes, attract the duchess, and successfully marry into her family—but let's forget about that, the duchess seems to have had a husband before—a whole series of plans.

"As expected, my old profession suits me better." Chi Que shook his head and decided to continue the investigation.

He was about to leave the street when he accidentally bumped into Vincent, who was selling inferior blood products on the side of the street.

The two looked at each other and were both stunned for a moment.

"It's you?" Vincent clicked his tongue. "The success rate of this recipe you gave me is way too low!"

"What good stuff do you want to buy with 100 Blood Coins?" Chi Que couldn't help but complain. "And I also want to ask you, what's this celebration all about? It's not written in the notes you gave me."

Vincent looked somewhat embarrassed.

"Because I'm not participating," he said, "so I didn't write it down."

Chi Que frowned. "Why? Isn't everyone required to participate? Unless they pay taxes?"

"That's aimed at you. Do you see the Blood Tax Collectors participating?" Vincent said. "I'm a vampire."

Chi Que stared at him for two seconds, his gaze gradually becoming strange.

"...Vampires?" Although the dungeon had practically written the relevant elements on its cover, he was still somewhat taken aback.

The main reason is that Vincent doesn't fit the aristocratic name he's given; if he were a vampire, he could accept it much more easily.

"Although we are just commoner vampires," Vincent added, "this is a privilege granted to us by the Duchess."

"How did you become a vampire?" Chi Que asked curiously, remembering that the other person had once been human.

Vincent fell silent, seemingly reluctant to recall the memory, and shook his head: "I can't say."

"Alright." Chi Que didn't press the matter. "So, how does one become a vampire? By finding someone to drink their blood?"

"That will only make you a blood servant," Vincent said. "For outsiders like you, or ordinary residents, the only way to become a vampire is to participate in the Night of the Hunt."

A Night of the Hunt?

Chi Que's heart stirred, and he remembered the celebration.