La Gueule de Saturne was a culinary jewel, renowned for its exquisite dishes and impeccable service. Since Rody Lamoree had taken over as the head chef and owner, the restaurant had gained a reputation for not just fine dining, but for a more unsettling reason. Rody’s obsessive quest for perfection had begun to cast a dark shadow over the establishment.
Vincent Charbonneau, a new and hopeful waiter, had joined the team with dreams of working in a prestigious restaurant. His enthusiasm was palpable, and his innocent charm made him a favorite among the staff. Yet, he was about to discover the chilling depths of Rody’s obsession.
On his first night, Vincent was assigned to serve tables while Rody was busy in the kitchen. The chef’s presence was a looming force, his dark eyes peering through the kitchen window with an intensity that made Vincent's skin crawl. The food coming out of the kitchen was visually stunning, but there was an odd, almost sinister edge to Rody’s creations.
As Vincent carried a meticulously plated dish to table seven, he caught a glimpse of Rody in the kitchen, his face flushed with feverish excitement. The chef’s movements were erratic, his focus locked on the food with an unsettling fervor. Vincent couldn’t help but feel a shiver as he watched Rody’s eyes dart between the dish and the diners, as if he were waiting for something more than just a critique.
The patrons at table seven took their first bites with expressions of awe. “This is extraordinary,” one of them remarked, clearly impressed. Vincent couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, but as he glanced back at the kitchen, Rody’s gaze was piercing, almost as if he were absorbing every nuance of their reaction.
Returning to the kitchen, Vincent was met by Rody’s intense stare. “How was it?” Rody demanded, his voice low and tinged with an edge that sent a shiver down Vincent’s spine.
“They loved it,” Vincent said, trying to keep his voice steady. “They said it was the best they’ve ever had.”
Rody’s face twisted into a disturbing smile. “Good,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I expect nothing less. But remember, Vincent, perfection is not just about flavor. It’s about the essence of the experience.”
The chef’s words seemed almost cryptic, but Vincent nodded, eager to please. “Understood, Chef.”
As the evening wore on, Vincent began to notice a pattern. Rody was becoming increasingly fixated on the feedback from each table, his demeanor shifting from intense to eerily calm whenever he received praise. The chef’s gaze never left Vincent, and the subtle, unsettling energy in the kitchen grew stronger with each passing hour.
When the restaurant finally emptied, Vincent was alone in the dining area, cleaning up and preparing for the next day. Rody appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression unreadable. “Vincent,” he called softly. “I need your help with something.”
Vincent hesitated, glancing around nervously. “What is it, Chef?”
“Come to the kitchen,” Rody said, his voice insistent but oddly gentle.
With a mix of curiosity and apprehension, Vincent followed Rody into the kitchen. The room was dimly lit, and the air was heavy with the smell of cooking oil and something else—something metallic. Rody was standing by the counter, his eyes locked onto Vincent with an almost predatory intensity.
“I want you to try something,” Rody said, handing Vincent a small, covered dish. “It’s a new recipe I’ve been working on.”
Vincent took the dish with trembling hands, unsure of what to expect. As he uncovered it, his face paled. The dish was perfect in appearance, but there was a strange, almost nauseating smell emanating from it.
“Go on,” Rody urged, his eyes never leaving Vincent’s face. “Taste it.”
Vincent hesitated but took a small bite. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced—both familiar and unsettling. There was a rich, savory quality to it, but also an underlying flavor that made him feel uneasy.
“How is it?” Rody asked, his voice low and almost desperate.
“It’s… unusual,” Vincent replied, trying to mask his discomfort. “It’s like nothing I’ve had before.”
Rody’s smile widened, but it was far from comforting. “That’s the goal,” he said, stepping closer to Vincent. “To create something unforgettable.”
Vincent’s unease grew as he noticed the gleam in Rody’s eyes. The chef’s obsession with perfection had clearly crossed a line, and Vincent felt trapped in the eerie, oppressive atmosphere of the kitchen.
“What’s in this dish?” Vincent asked, his voice trembling.
Rody’s gaze turned cold, and he stepped back, his expression shifting to one of practiced calm. “It’s a special recipe,” he said. “A secret.”
Vincent’s heart raced as he realized that Rody’s fixation on perfection had taken on a disturbing edge. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, but before he could react, Rody’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Vincent,” Rody said softly, “I appreciate your dedication. But remember, in the pursuit of perfection, some sacrifices must be made.”
Vincent’s eyes widened in horror as he understood the true nature of Rody’s obsession. The chef’s pursuit of culinary excellence had become a twisted, dark ritual, and Vincent was now a part of it.
As the night drew to a close, Vincent’s innocence had been shattered. The perfect dish had become a symbol of Rody’s disturbing fixation, and the young waiter was left with a chilling realization: in Rody’s world, perfection was not just a goal but a haunting, consuming force.
A/N
Still trying to ease my readers into the fandom. I'm currently avoiding directly mentioning canabalisim or anything similar. Though I did hint at it. I think I'm only going to ease my readers with one or two more oneshots then I'll start posting some with more darker themes. I love the swap au in case you couldn't tell lol
