Chapter 150 - 145. Dangling Thread
Zein wasn’t a picky eater, or rather, someone who grew up without barely any food couldn’t afford to be picky.
That being said, his tongue had been spoiled with many delicacies in the green-zone, things that he had never tasted before. From the cafeteria’s food to the more delectable meals that Bassena or Radia took him to, even the junk food that Han Shin ordered for him from time to time.
Among those foods, there was something that he had craved yet hadn’t gotten in a while; the taste of a home-cooked meal.
Zein could cook, just about. But his cooking skill was derived from survival; how to utilize nearly expired canned food and hunted game, or how to fix a meal in the dungeon. He could barely call it cooking, honestly--if someone should throw him a bunch of normal ingredients and seasonings, he would get confused, much more the fancier version.
But Zein also had no grandiose vision of home-cooked meals. It was just whatever the grandma next door shared with him. The watery soup with barely any substance, and toasted stale bread. It had minimum seasoning, since those were crazy expensive in the red-zone, but the first time Zein tasted it, it was the best thing in the world for him. It chased away the harsh cold and loneliness.
It was the taste of warmth and sincerity.
The lunch reminded him of that feeling.
The daughter’s husband owned a small eatery that provided a buffet of home-cooked meals for a low price. It was the favorite of students and drivers, for the cost-effective yet still tasty food. At the end of the day, they would donate the leftover to the food bank, and the husband cooked free breakfast for the homeless shelter on the weekend.
The lunch that the husband cook wasn’t anything fancy, just what one would find in normal households, really. So he was trembling at first, knowing that the Bassena Vaski was tagging along. While Zein was becoming famous, the daughter already knew that Zein was a red-zone dweller, and the old man told them the guide wouldn’t mind eating a home-cooked meal.
But what about Bassena Vaski? Someone born and grew up in the upper class of the green-zone?
So they were nervous and frantic about everything, which was quite useless, since Bassena ate everything without a fuss, even looking like he actually enjoyed it. Whether the esper truly liked the food or was just being polite, it slowly chased away the anxiety gripping the foundation’s staff, and the lunch became more cordial and warm in the end.