Chapter 2787: The Feast of Nightmares (Part 6)

"My apologies, I haven't introduced myself yet." Shiler suddenly changed the subject, turned his body back to look at the menu, and said, "My name is Nyarlathotep, an honorary researcher at All Souls College, Oxford University, and also a historian and folklorist."

Jeremiah's eyes widened even further, but he soon seemed to remember something, curled his lip, and revealed a slight expression of disdain.

"If you have even a slight understanding of history, you will find that the rich exploiting the poor is a social phenomenon that has existed since ancient times and has never changed due to the rise and fall of dynasties."

Shiler turned his head again to look at the head chef and said, "Do you think that if one day you became rich, you would be generous to the poor and never extract nutrients from them?"

The head chef nodded.

"Then I am sorry, you will never become rich, because the rich themselves never possess nutrients; all their nutrients come from the poor. Therefore, harvesting nutrients is a necessary condition for one to become rich, and exploiting the poor is the inevitable process for them to become rich, not the result."

The head chef didn't seem to hear what Shiler was pointing at; he just blinked and waited where he was.

"Wealth always flows upward; it is an incurable disease of human society. No system can change it. Those who hold wealth and privilege will always be a small minority."

"I completely understand your hatred, because you are not one of this small minority. You are not them, so you can naturally say that if one day you became them, you would never be as dirty and despicable as they are."

The head chef's expression grew darker and darker. He seemed to have concluded that Shiler was making excuses for these people, but Shiler didn't give him a chance to speak, instead speaking rapidly.

"But unfortunately, this group of people doesn't think they are dirty or despicable, because they have received a good education, understand how human society actually operates, and also understand how to make themselves that small minority, or even the minority among the minority, the tip of the pyramid."

"Regarding the matter of collecting nutrients and strengthening themselves, they are not ashamed, but proud. If seven out of ten people can be kings, they will kill the other three; and if five out of seven can be kings, they will kill two more. To them, this is as common as eating and drinking."

"You gather this group of people here and provide them with delicacies and an opportunity to devour their own kind. In reality, this is not punishing them, but fueling this trend."

"You see them as a whole, but they don't think so, because wealth flowing upward is endless. They will think that killing and annexing others is perfectly normal, because in their eyes, this is how society operates. Things like mutual help and overcoming difficulties together simply do not exist."

"So, in reality, you aren't torturing them; you are just taking the things they experience every day in their normal lives and making them experience them again in a different way. Would you feel pain for changing your posture while using the toilet one day?"

The head chef looked at him, somewhat stunned. Shiler said, "Do you think their current wails and screams are repentance? No, that is merely physiological, just like you cry when you are in pain; there is no difference from an infant."

Shiler looked at the head chef's stunned expression and said, "Don't believe what I say? Then why not try it? Stop controlling them, stop scrambling their brains, and let them leave their precious, final clarity for you. Isn't that better?"

The head chef hadn't said anything yet, but Jeremiah's face clearly showed a look of hesitation. He always felt something was wrong.

Who would have thought Shiler would say something so shocking? He glanced at the restaurant and said, "I know that one day you gained enough power to allow you to take revenge on others, and then you adopted the most efficient method to realize your vision."

"I think this is slightly overdone, like a dish with too many seasonings. You think using human heads to express the theme of self-devouring has enough terrifying impact, but I feel it destroys the balance of the flavor."

The head chef looked into Shiler's eyes and asked, "Then what is your brilliant opinion, Mr. Nyarlathotep?"

"I prefer the original flavor of the ingredients." Shiler was clearly implying something. He said, "If you want people to experience terror and despair, you don't necessarily have to put those things on a plate. A few small hints and schemes are enough to make these people reveal their ugly faces. This makes their stupidity even more apparent, doesn't it?"

"How do you think I should make this dish?"

"First of all, I am not sure you can restore them to clarity." Shiler shook his head and said, "If the fact that their brains have been scrambled into a mess is irreversible, then I am afraid I can only taste your imperfect work with regret."

"It is not irreversible." The head chef finally chose to confess. He said, "Since you have already seen that the theme of the restaurant is a cycle, I can tell you clearly that even if you leave the restaurant now, when the midnight bell rings, you will still return here. This is a restaurant that no one can leave."

"Is that so? That's quite a coincidence. I just left a room that claimed no one could leave." Shiler said nonchalantly, "I guessed as much. You used some method to trap them here."

The head chef didn't seem to want to say any more to him, but turned and walked to the very front of the restaurant.

*Slap! *

He clapped his hands forcefully, and the scene in the restaurant began to reverse. Those people who were coming and going all returned to their proper places, and this time there were neither cold dishes nor wine on the table; the banquet clearly hadn't started yet.

But Shiler was already sitting here. Jeremiah was clearly seeing this scene for the first time, and since he was shocked by the different scenes of the restaurant, it proved his memory hadn't been tampered with.

But all the other diners seemed to have just woken up from a big dream.

"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. Today's dishes have been adjusted. I need to invite a special friend to visit the kitchen." The head chef nodded to everyone. Some people looked at their watches, found that it wasn't time for the meal yet, and didn't say anything.

Shiler stood up. He followed the head chef to the kitchen. The kitchen was just like every Michelin-starred restaurant: spacious and orderly, with rows upon rows of chefs standing in front of the workstations.

There were two chairs in the waiting area here. Shiler sat down in one of them without ceremony, crossed one leg over the other, and said, "It's very simple. You can just say you kidnapped them and want to play a game with them."

"Just that simple." The head chef narrowed his eyes, clearly not satisfied.

"The winner is the diner, the loser is the ingredient. It's just that simple."

The head chef seemed a bit interested. He said, "What type of game? Poker?"

"That would be too cliché and has nothing to do with the restaurant's theme. Since you say they don't truly respect gourmet food at all, why not play this: you just do what a head chef should do."

Shiler left the kitchen quickly and sat back in his seat, but unexpectedly, the moment he sat down, Jeremiah spoke up. He said, "You idiot, you've ruined everything!"

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"I was about to figure out all the rules of the cycle." Jeremiah gritted his teeth and pushed up his glasses, saying, "I passed six levels, and now only the final level of after-dinner wine remains, but you changed all the rules, which made all my previous efforts go to waste."

"Don't try to moral-shame me." Shiler said, "Especially when you didn't intend to share any information about any of those six levels with me."

A trace of gloom that was hard to detect flashed in Jeremiah's eyes, but he disguised it well, looking just like a mad scientist who didn't care about his life for the sake of academics. He said, "I was close to the truth, but you destroyed everything. You destroyed my only entertainment."

"You aren't as composed as you appear. On the contrary, your scheme to stall for time seemed very stupid to me, just like an idiot. I have to say, the other person I've seen who is exactly like you performed much better."

Jeremiah's expression darkened almost immediately; he could no longer maintain his disguise. Shiler, however, placed an arm on the table, leaned forward, and looked at him, saying, "Your brother is much better than you."

*Bang! * A dinner plate was knocked over. The head chef, who had just walked out, looked at Jeremiah with an expression of dissatisfaction. Jeremiah's fists were clenched tightly.

Shiler observed Jeremiah's emotions and found that he didn't seem to be disguising them. This didn't look much like the Joker. Could it be that the real Joker was still Jerome?

Soon, the head chef cleared his throat and said, "Thank you all very much for attending my banquet in your busy schedules. To thank you all for your consistent support, I will provide you all with seven courses."

"First, the pre-meal wine. I named it 'Cat Getan Sunset.' I know this name is slightly cliché, but it actually represents my thrilling day. I must tell you all what I encountered when I first came to Cat Getan..."

The head chef began to talk at length about his experience coming to Cat Getan, and recounted how he sparked inspiration, combined several types of wine to create this special pre-meal wine, and talked about the flavor of the wine, the celebrities who had tasted it, and also talked about Bruce Wayne's evaluation of this wine.

The people below seemed to be listening very intently. Some nodded frequently, some took out things to start taking notes, some applauded happily, and some were moved to tears.

Then the head chef began to tell the story of the cold dish. He spent nearly two hours telling all the sources of inspiration, the realization process, the stories behind them, the flavor of the dishes, and the connotations to be expressed for all seven courses he had arranged.

The waiters began to serve the dishes in order.

After the pre-meal wine was served, it had actually been two hours since the head chef mentioned the story of the after-dinner wine. This time was neither long nor short, far from reaching the first point of the forgetting curve.

The waiters walked to the windows in an orderly fashion and stood still. The head chef revealed a smile to everyone and said, "Before we drink our first glass of wine together, I must tell everyone some unfortunate news—I am afraid you all cannot leave here smoothly."

Some people felt puzzled, some were whispering. The head chef lifted his hand slightly. Shiler saw movement on the ceiling. He looked up and saw a spine.

A blood-red spine that had been stripped of bone, flesh, and fascia hung above his head. If Shiler remembered correctly, this thing was what had pressed his head down earlier.

Every person had a spine above their head, and a dense neural network covered the entire ceiling. Shiler could even see many familiar neural structures within it. This thing was actually abnormally scientific.

But this clearly terrified the diners. The head chef had reset them to the point of clarity. They simply couldn't accept such a terrifying sight, and they screamed one after another, wanting to leave their chairs.

The spine extended downward, reached the brainstem that controlled action, and just like that, it pierced into the neck. The nerves spread down along the spine, and everyone's head lowered.

"I didn't say this time is forever." The head chef raised his glass and said, "As long as you finish the seven courses, you can naturally leave."

"However, it is a pity that because of some previous problems, I didn't prepare enough ingredients. I am afraid I must ask you all to be generous... No, I don't want your money. I think some of you present are the best ingredients."

Ignoring the terrified expressions of the crowd, the head chef sighed lightly and said, "Now, write down on the paper in front of you the inspiration for my making this glass of wine, my story, the flavor of the wine, the origin of the raw materials, anything is fine."

"The ten people who write the worst will become the ingredients for the next dish—the others will enjoy them."

The head chef drank the normal wine in his glass in one gulp, his expression turned gloomy, and he said, "Start writing, friends." ===== CHAPTER 2788 =====