Cthulhu Panel: One organ mutates every day

Wayne suddenly interrupted, "Sis, I don't want you to go on stage to compete."

Rosalind was taken aback and turned to look at Wayne.

Wei En's expression was solemn as he repeated:

"Sis, I have a feeling I can't quite explain, but I don't want you to go on stage."

Seeing Wayne's serious gaze, Rosalind didn't ask any more questions and directly replied to Evans:

"Mr. Evans, I'm sorry. As you can see, my brother doesn't want me to go on stage to compete."

Evans didn't mind at all, laughed happily a few times, and continued:

"It's alright, it's just an event anyway. If Miss Weber doesn't want to go on stage, then she doesn't have to."

Seeing Evans's hearty laughter, Wayne felt relieved.

It's good that they didn't pursue it any further.

Evans ignored Wayne's gaze and simply looked towards the food preparation area, introducing it as follows:

"But since you're already here, you can go and browse around the food preparation area. There will be an interactive segment during the competition where the audience can pass food to the contestants on stage. The atmosphere will be very lively. This area is close to the food preparation area and has a variety of delicious food. You might want to consider participating."

As one of the sponsors of the competition, Weber's participation in the event, whether through competing on stage or engaging in friendly interactions, can increase the company's exposure to some extent.

Rosalind smiled and nodded:

"Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Evans. It would be wonderful if I could go on stage and interact with the contestants even if I wasn't competing."

The backstage rest area is also frequented by guests.

As Rosalind linked arms with Wayne and chatted with Congressman Evans, she also encountered many other congressmen and representatives of corporations.

Being at the event, amidst the lively atmosphere, most of the conversation revolved around life, entertainment, and hobbies.

However, what puzzled Wei En was that everyone who came would take a second look at him, as if they were completely captivated by him in a short period of time.

Especially the middle-aged female representatives and young heiresses of conglomerates, their eyes would flash with a moment of infatuation when they looked at him, which would then disappear after a moment of daze.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Wayne:

"When did I become so charming?"

While exchanging pleasantries and dealing with the guests, Wayne also observed his surroundings, his gaze unconsciously drifting towards the busy food preparation area.

The chefs in the food preparation area lined up, each in charge of a stove and a preparation table. They worked in a tense but orderly manner, their skills proficient. Some were preparing various dishes and soups over open flames, while others were preparing various desserts and fruit platters by hand...

Each chef has an extremely rich variety of ingredients at their disposal. The aroma of cream and flour blends with the fragrance of meat and the freshness of fruits and vegetables, filling the air with a lingering and delightful fragrance.

In between dealing with the coming and going guests.

Senator Evans noticed Wayne's gaze, smiled, and suggested:

"Young Master Webber seems quite interested in the preparation area. Shall we go take a look? The chefs are very welcoming."

Rosalind noticed Wayne's curiosity about the food preparation area and smiled, her eyes crinkling.

"How about it? Are you interested? If you are, you can go and take a look."

Seeing that the atmosphere was indeed lively enough, and not wanting to deal with the representatives of those conglomerates, Wayne replied:

"Okay, I think the food preparation area looks interesting, so I'll have to excuse myself now."

"It's alright, go ahead. You don't need to stay here with your sister all the time. Just have fun." Rosalind released her arm from Wayne's, her eyes filled with indulgence.

Senator Evans smiled and said that everyone was free to move around.

Wayne nodded and turned to walk towards the food preparation area.

It was already visible that the streets around Times Square were crowded with people rushing towards Times Square.

Neon lights flashed, spotlights blared, and the volume of the live jazz music increased.

The eating contest is about to begin.

As he approached the food preparation area, Wayne gradually slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping over the neatly arranged stoves and preparation tables. Watching the chefs' skillful techniques and stir-frying movements, the surrounding noise gradually faded away.

The chefs were very efficient, having already prepared a sufficient amount of food on plates set out on the side.

There was also a line of guests in the food preparation area, including several heiresses and sons of conglomerates whom I had just met.

The daughters and sons of these conglomerates were all mesmerized, drawn to the various ingredients, seemingly waiting for the interactive segment of the competition to arrive so they could serve food to the contestants on stage.

When one of the chefs saw Wayne come to visit, he slowed down his work slightly and began to chat enthusiastically, loudly introducing the types of ingredients:

"Young man, feel free to look around. We've prepared plenty of ingredients for today! Steak, pork knuckle, and fried chicken are the main dishes, and there's also seafood in the refrigerator, all of which arrived fresh this morning..."

Another young chef also greeted them:

"Would you like to come up on stage later to serve some food and interact with the group? Feel free to take as much of the prepared food as you like, don't be shy..."

The other chefs also turned around to say hello, as if they were all paying attention to the newcomer, Wein. Some introduced the ingredients and dishes, while others explained the convenience of serving food and interacting with Wein on stage.

Wei En felt a strange unease: 'Why does it feel like they're urging me to go on stage?'

But he still had a smile on his face and nodded in greeting, without responding verbally amidst the noisy atmosphere.

Here, right behind the competition platform, the situation on the platform and in front is no longer clearly visible.

However, one could hear the cheering crowds gathering in Times Square, and the enthusiastic voice of the referee on stage:

"Hello everyone! Now, our reigning champion, the previous year's eating contest winner, is about to take the stage. He's incredibly talented, a superstar foodie contestant, number 69!"

The cheers from Times Square surged in waves, spreading to the surrounding streets.

The referee's microphone continued:

"Now, we will be introducing ten new contestants to compete in the second annual Metropolitan Eating Contest, to face off against contestant number 69! They all come from the privileged class and are representatives of bullshit capitalism. They are Senator Evans, Senator Allen..."

After the referee had introduced each of the contestants, he loudly announced:

"The match begins!"

Wayne heard it all. As the referee announced the start of the game, the clamor and cheers reached his ears, but they had become faint and indistinct.

"Contestant number 69..."

A faint outline seemed to emerge in his mind, an outline that filled his field of vision.

She was a gray-haired girl, or perhaps a gray-haired woman, her hands gently clasped behind her back, gazing back at the cosmos above...

Wayne instinctively felt that this place was too close to the scene, making him uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to leave the food preparation area, he clearly heard some voices talking.

Those sounds were different from the boisterous cheers of the crowd; at first glance, they didn't even sound like human voices.

Wayne left without looking back.

Suddenly, one voice stood out among them. It was short and weak, and its sickly tone kept repeating itself:

"Wein Weber, Wein Weber, Wein Weber..."

Wayne turned around sharply and looked around the food preparation area, but couldn't find the source of the sound.

But the voice kept repeating in an eerie tone:

"Wein Weber, Wein Weber, Wein Weber..."

The syllables seemed distorted, no longer resembling the pronunciation of the Commonwealth language. Like the transliteration of English pronunciation, it had become a distorted version of Chinese pinyin.

"Wein Weber..."