CHAPTER 31: JUST... CAVEMAN IT, DUDE

I held my fork like it was a surgical tool, trying to angle it just right to practice. Then the first course arrived.

I heard metal cling from the door, and food arrived.

"For today’s lunch." an older gentleman spoke, "Foie Gras de Rillettes"

...

?

Was that English?

Four Grams of the Realest? Are we eating African American cuisine?

As the food arrived, I watched in horror as I was served a plate of thickly sliced German’s sourdough bread, with a small bowl of what seemed like cowfeed. A mixture that looked like mayonnaise and canned tuna with some bits of meat.

Maybe it was pate? Like, organ paste? Right, yeah! I’ve had those before!

I glanced upwards to see that both Hailie and Eirlys had already started eating in the way that I expected, one hand on a knife to cut and spread the mixture, the other hand held the bread.

I let out a sigh of relief, at least this was relatively caveman-easy to eat. But I didn’t make it far before the cutlery dilemma returned. Which knife? There were four of them, different in sides and edges... I didn’t catch what Eirlys and Hailie used, and now it was awkward as hell as I just glanced back at Anshar, who didn’t even bat me an eye.

"Which knife do I use?" I whispered.

She glanced down at my pathetic puppy eyes, and went right back up.

Alright then fuck you too, you gingers are all the same.

I tried to guess by picking the biggest one

BUZZ

The moment the knife was in my small, filthy hands, one of the footman cleared his throat, subtly, delicately, and judgmentally. Eirlys didn’t even look up, but I saw the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth... Was this her way of getting back at me? FOR WHAT? Well yeah maybe I groped her sister in game but fuck your silver-spoon ass, too.

"I can’t do this," I mumbled under my breath, placing the knife down and wiping invisible sweat from my forehead. Deciding to just not eat lunch today.

Finally, that was when Anshar finally pointed towards one of the correct knife... And I glanced at her with killing intent, why now? Were you waiting for me to break down and suffer huh you bitch?

I kinda smashed 2 slices of bread while trying to spread the pate with my knife, though... They were thick and crunchy, but the insides could be way more delicate than I think. Or was my grip strength just that good?

As for the taste... All food tasted the same under stress, you could’ve handed me horseshit and I wouldn’t tell the difference.

I hid my burp as the second course arrived, and listened closely to the name of it.

"Cannelés de bordeaux."

Yeah no, no no that’s not English.

The dish came, and it was dessert! They really don’t eat a lot, it was just, like, a small pastry/cake, like a chocolate lava cake. A small, striated cylinder up to five centimetres in height, with a depression at the top, with a dark, thick, caramelized crust.

But they were miniature, I got three on my plate.

I followed Hailie and Eirlys as they picked up a knife and fork to cut the pastry and pick it up like a steak. I even took great care to look at what kind of knife and fork they picked up, and no one gave me a judgmental cough, so I was happy.

With the fork to hold one of these pastries in place, I use the knife to cut it and.

Screeeeeeeech

My knife slid across the white plate after I applied too much force, leaving a loud, ear-bursting screech of metal against metal, like nails on a chalkboard. And the room of a dozen people turned to me.

...

That was the last straw.

I raised my leg and sat cross-legged on the cushion seat.

This was the way humans was intended to sit, you god damn neanderthals, your knees are supposed to be taller, or at least same height as your buttcheeks.

I dropped both utensils and began eating like a normal human eating any pastry dessert, WITH THEIR FUCKING HANDS. Slowly, not rudely, but could be seen as abnormally.

There was a long pause.

Then Hailie giggled.

"I’ve never seen anyone sit like that before." she whispered, delighted. "You’re so fun, Cory!"

"Thanks, it’s much more efficient this way, I think I’ll stick to eating in my room from now on." I answered.

Eirlys finally glanced at me.

"You do not have to." she said, lips twitching with amusement. "Neither Hailie or I judges you, and you are our guest specifically."

"Yip! It’s such a cool change of pace!" Hailie smiled with audible giggling.

"Thank you guys, it was so stressful trying to be graceful and whatnot."

Though, across the room, I caught the eyes of one of the maids watching me with narrowed eyes. I could almost hear her thoughts, calling me a savage, a degenerate, and a pity creature.

The lunch continued, turns out, that pastry was not the end, they just eat a lot of stuff.

"This foam tastes like soap," I said out loud, and Eirlys finally cracked a smile.

"It’s citrus reduction," she corrected.

"Well, I’m not trying to force it to be something it’s not. I’m just saying that it’s having an identity crisis, and identity crisis is not a joke, millions of families suffer every year."

No one appreciated or even comprehended that Office joke, but I swore one of the maids chuckled.

Lunch continued in that weird, pseudo-awkward way that eventually just looped back into fun. They didn’t judge me too hard... Well, Eirlys might’ve, but I was pretty sure she was just mentally cataloguing my sins into a neat file to roast me later.

When another dessert came, I didn’t even pretend. I ate it with the same spoon I used for soup, and it finally tasted great.

Though I’m definitely not invited to any future fancy rich people dinners.