Killer Chef の小説・ストーリー

“Police report have confirmed that the mangled body that is found yesterday at the city last evening is similar to the method of killings of one of the controversial serial murderer, Andrew Mendez, 16 years ago at Delhi province. However, based on our initial investigation, the convicted murderer is already died. This is Kamilla Riz Dela Torre, SNS News reporting.”

When she calmed herself, she sighed, becoming sad again, then she raised the knife that flashed in the light, “this is for everyone you have ever caused pain. Let us start with me.” And in one smooth motion, she slit his throat. Blood sprayed across his chest. He tried to speak, but only gurgling sounds escaped his mouth. Karma climbed on the bed and stood over his head, placing her Christian Louboutin heels over his mouth, and with one forceful push down, she matched firmly on the ball in his mouth, causing it to enter his throat. The last thing Marcus saw was his daughter wiping the blade on his shirt, her cold, empty expression never changing.

He stood at the thick wooden cutting board, holding a sharp chef’s knife, slicing fresh vegetables with quick, precise movements. Hazel stood quietly by the edge of the room. It was still incredibly jarring to see him like this. Even after a month, she still couldn't quite believe that Xavier Sterling actually knew how to cook. The man was a billionaire. He had an entire staff on payroll, including a private chef, yet here he was on his only day off, standing over a hot stove.

I asked and he dropped his head in both fear and a little bit of shame “you better be ashamed,” I said, “is this what you serve your king when he has a hangover?” I asked him ”I didn’t know that your majesty had a hang…”I cut him off before he could even finish his sentence and I s]charged at him. If not for Jeff I would have probably killed him right on the spot “go” Jeff said to the terrified chef and the man ran off “all of you get the fuck out” he yelled as I sat down and Jeff dished some bacon and toast for me

He gestured toward the chef. I greeted him politely, forcing a calm exterior. But Gerrard's expression flickered ever so slightly. He his eyes at me, confused. My pulse jumped. Had I said something wrong? Gerrard frowned slightly at my reaction before giving me an encouraging smile. "Lily, don’t you remember? This is Chef Marcel DuPont. He’s one of the finest culinary masters in France… and not just that, he was one of your instructors back at your culinary school. You even wrote on one of your social media posts that you admired him and looked up to him. I was expecting more excitement."

None of them had gotten it right. The real thing standing in my doorway, catching the light from my hall lamp was something else entirely. It was not costume. It was not theater. It was a specific, intentional, centuries-old object, and it was being worn by a man who had chosen it the way a man chooses a signature. The Verdict Killer was standing in my living room. I want to be precise about what that meant. Because if you live outside this city, or if you don’t read the tabloids, or if you don’t listen to the podcasts — you might think he was just one more name on one more news cycle.

"An influencer in our complex just killed someone! The victim was a pregnant woman, and both she and her baby lost their lives!" "I know, right? I just saw the pregnant woman's husband storming toward our building with a kitchen knife!" I had just reached the elevator when I heard several middle-aged women chattering away. I froze for a moment, feeling a phantom pain in my neck where the knife had slashed me. The scene of my brutal death in my previous life felt as vivid as ever.

She asked, leaning on the kitchen counter and resting her chin on her palm. Jesse was standing in front of the stove, and was just wearing teeny-tiny checkered Calvin Klein boxers and a blue apron. He looked so... domesticated. That it was kind of funny. "Hi," he greeted back. He turned his head to K then quickly set his attention back to the pan. He was making scrambled eggs. "Thanks for the compliment, by the way." Jesse grinned like a bad wolf, talking about K's remark that he was apparently sex-on-a-stick. The eggs were already done, and was bordering on over-cooked. He quickly removed the pan from the heat and set the scrambled eggs on a cold plate.

Rising to her feet, she said, "Little chef, I am very pleased with your skill. Since you claim not to know him, I will believe you. "Guards, take this insolent wretch away and beat him to death." The moment her words fell, two armored guards entered from outside. I steadied myself and spoke before the queen could leave. "Your Majesty, may I handle this person instead? My family's culinary craft is never shared. Perhaps he has stolen my techniques from somewhere." The queen nodded, granting permission. After everyone else had left, the accountant grabbed my hand. "Adrian, I never thought you'd save me. Teach me your cooking secrets. I'll become your apprentice, serve you—let's survive togethe

Fortunately, they didn't despise Sebastian's wife for being a low class, after all, Sebastian's friends aren't easy to deal with as they choose who they want to be. As Larry asked, K Whatever felt relieved that she didn't have any dramas with his friends. "Well, I don't know how to cook but I know how to slice some ingredients." That was a lie. She knew how to cook well but the kitchen hates her as every time she cooks if the pan isn't on fire, the kitchen is. If the kitchen is safe, she wouldn't. Her bad luck became a hindrance to her culinarian ability. Her sister became a chef made K Whatever grateful... As she only needs to worry about the dishes!