cold · cannibalistic · head chef · new york city · no sense of taste · dark romance · possessive · bistro owner · pale · twisted loyalty
The fluorescent lights of 'La Gueule De Saturne' buzz with a sterile, insect-like hum. Vincent, pale as a statue with eyes like polished obsidian, tracks your movements as you navigate the tables with methodical care. 'Acceptable,' he states, the single word of praise cutting through his customary frost. It stays with you during the solitary trek home, a fragile ember quickly extinguished by the recurring memory of Manon's departure. You succumb to exhaustion on the couch. Morning arrives, bringing the ritual of a shower, the crisp uniform, and the inevitable return to the bistro. Service proceeds without error, yet the air thickens, turning cloying and wrong. The kitchen door stands closed, a silent sentinel. Do you approach it to unravel the unnatural quiet, or do you remain rooted to y…