One Silver Coin For a Pound of Demon

Chapter 18

Draft
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You were having dinner one day, Lemuel turned his fork and seemed to be considering something. You look up at him, he taps the plate with his fork and says, "Do you like it like this, or do priests need to eat this way?"

You look at his plate and say, "Beef?"

"No, I'm talking about..." Lemuel pauses, and you think he may have swallowed something unpleasant, "Well, cooked stuff."

Today's dinner is whole-wheat bread, beef, green beans, and apples, You don't see anything wrong. "Cooked food is healthier," You ask. "Do you like it raw?"

"When the average person says 'cooked food,' they don't mean food cooked by putting all the ingredients in a pot and boiling it," Lemuel says. "You didn't even add salt!"

"We've already drunk salty water," You remind him.

"That's why you make me drink that deadly salty glass of water every morning?" Lemuel mutters in shock. "Wasn't it just some weird way of life or religious ritual?"

"Six grams of salt," You explain, "Is in line with the recommended daily salt intake for the human body."

"Fuck," Lemeul curses.

"Please don't swear," You remind again.

You spend a little time communicating and you finally understand that he's been dissatisfied with the food, not because of the ingredients, but because of the way you cook it. You'll choose the most nutritionally balanced ingredients, separate them by "should be eaten raw" and "needs to be cooked". You mix the latter evenly, put them in a pot, add water, and bring it to a boil. In the beginning, you couldn't always control the heat, the times for each ingredient to be cooked were different. In order to avoid the ingredients that need to be cooked more being undercooked, you've become used to letting the mixture simmer for a while. Anyway, as long as the water doesn't dry, the ingredients wouldn't burn. You only cook this way and don't think there's anything wrong with it.

"You grew up eating this?" Lemuel says, "You're not biological, right?"

"No, the Holy See is equipped with nutritional supplements." You answer, surprised by Lemuel's observation skills, "Yes, I was adopted."

Lemuel is speechless.

"I actually endured this for months," He mutters. "I thought you just couldn't get along with me, or like giving yourself a hard time, like those ascetic monks..."

"Ascetic monks don't give themselves a hard time,'" You explain, "They sharpen their bodies and bring their spirits closer to the Lord."

Lemuel sighs deeply, he asks, "Would you mind if I cook tomorrow?"

There's no reason for you to refuse Lemuel's request. At noon the next day you bring back fresh ingredients, Lemuel takes it and walks into the kitchen.

He washed the drumstick, turned the tip of the knife around the joint, and cut off the skin, tendons, and cartilage from the meat cleanly. Lemeul's obviously very good at using a knife, you barely understand what he's doing. He pulls the chicken's bones out of the chicken thigh, and it's picked clean, with barely visible meat residues. Lemuel holds the boneless chicken with his left hand, and stabs it a few times with the knife in his right hand. You have no clue as to why he's torturing the chicken carcass, he sees your confusion and takes the time to explain: "This'll make it more delicious, the chicken skin won't shrink due to heat and separate from the chicken. It wouldn't taste as good if it falls off."

You have no idea what he's talking about but you nod your head anyway.

Lemuel also washed the onions and carrots you brought, cut them into pieces, and set them aside. He asks if you have aby garlic, rosemary, black pepper, or honey, and sighs at the answer of no to all of them, it almost made you feel guilty. "Okay, at least you have this," He mutters, patting the can of salt like a puppy.