Investing In My Crippled Wife Every Return Makes Me Stronger Chapter 268

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[ … words ]

“Ladies and gentlemen! It’s your favorite host, Faris, and his beautiful co-host, Lady Layla!”

“Faris, must you introduce me like that every single time?” Layla let out a helpless sigh, though from the look on her face, it was obvious she was satisfied with it.

“Of course! It’s part of the charm, and I’m just speaking the truth.” Faris grinned and winked at her before turning back to the arena. “Now then, who’s ready for another exciting round?”

“YEAH!”

“ME!”

“LET’S START ALREADY!”

The crowd roared back in response.

“Haha, now, now, please calm down.” Faris made an exaggerated gesture. “I know you’ve been waiting for the semi-finals since yesterday, especially after that special ’news’. But don’t worry, you won’t have to wait much longer. In just a few minutes, all contestants will take their stations, and we will be able to uncover who this ’Bagdad’s Savior’ is!”

The crowd erupted once again, as most of them were locals.

“I wonder who they are to Master Doran to praise them so much,” Layla added with a pondering expression.

“Hehe, did you just read my mind?” Faris chuckled. “Because I was thinking the same thing; I couldn’t even sleep last night!”

“…” Layla gave him an ’At least give a convincing lie’ look.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not lying, I swear.” Faris defended himself but quickly shifted the topic. “Anyway! Let’s not waste any more time and talk about who the savior might actually be!”

“…Ok, let’s go with that.”

“First, we can rule out Senior Chef Damir since he represents his hometown, the capital city.”

“True. We can also…”

The two discussed and settled on three candidates with mysterious backgrounds.

“…That leaves us with three candidates.”

“Senior Chef Nuelia, Chef Dobby, and Chef Soren.”

───────

“…and Chef Soren.”

’…Damn it.’ Soren cursed inwardly. ’If I knew it would be like this, I wouldn’t have agreed.’

He had sent his agreement to President Doran yesterday and then woke up to see this in the morning. He hadn’t expected it to blow up like this. Although his identity as the so-called ’Bagdad’s Savior’ hadn’t been revealed yet, the media had already started speculating. Every major outlet ran the same story, calling it the ’Return of Bagdad?’ and so on. And now, his face was being shown to everyone on the big screens along with the two other ’possible saviors’.

’…I made a mistake.’

He shouldn’t have trusted Doran at all. The man had clearly used this to stir up the city, and now Soren was the center of attention.

’…No, it should be the work of those attention-hungry reporters.’

Because he had seen actual video of an official announcement, it was the media who twisted it into what it was now. The dramatic titles, the wild speculation, the sudden wave of public support. They had turned a simple announcement into a frenzy.

’No… I should’ve expected it.’

Because this was how the world worked: a story like this – an unknown contestant rising through the ranks, doing their best to represent a ’fallen’ city – was the kind of story the reporters dreamed of.

’Hah… Whatever.’

’I’ll just do what I intended to do and leave.’

He took a deep breath, and as the contestants were called to the arena, he stepped forward with the rest of them. The noise of the crowd washed over him like a wave, and dozens of cameras turned to track their movements. His name was already being called from somewhere in the stands. He ignored it and walked straight to his station, his expression calm and unreadable.

The rules were reminded to them once again, and then the main screen lit up with the countdown.

[180:00]

Unlike the previous rounds, they were pretty generous with the time limit, probably because there was no fixed theme this time. They could make whatever they wanted, as long as it showed creativity while being close to the original recipe and expressed who they were as a chef.

While the other contestants soon started moving, Soren kept staring at his station, frozen like a statue.

And everyone noticed it.

“Chef Soren seems to be taking his time,” Faris remarked, his voice carrying across the broadcast. “Do you think the pressure is getting to him?”

“He’s been the center of attention since this morning,” Layla added. “It’s possible he’s still trying to block it all out. So, let’s just hope for the best.”

“Right, right.” Faris nodded and his eyes lit up. “Perhaps he’s waiting for inspiration to strike. Some chefs do their best thinking when they’re like that, you know.”

“Whatever it is, I hope he finds it soon. The clock is ticking.”

“Yeah, I agree with you on that. While three hours might feel like a long time, it might disappear faster than people expect.”

“Well, we are talking about time after all…”

“…”

While the hosts were still in the middle of discussing his lack of movement, Soren was hearing none of that. It was as if he was disconnected from reality, his attention fixed entirely on the task. And just like that, twenty minutes passed and…

“LOOK!” Faris pointed at the stage. “HE’S MOVING!”

“Finally.” Layla let out a relieved breath. “It seems he’s made his decision. I was starting to worry he’d spend the whole first hour just standing there.”

“Same here. But look at him go! That’s not the movement of someone who’s unsure. That’s the movement of a man with a plan.”

The cameras focused on Soren as he worked. His movements were quick and precise, and the way he picked and handled each ingredient made it clear he had already mapped out every step in his head. The earlier stillness was gone, replaced by the kind of concentration that made people stop and watch.

“Looks like he wasn’t stressed after all,” Layla observed. “But the real question is what he’s planning to make.”

“Whatever it is, it better be worth the wait.” Faris grinned. “After all, all the candidates here are incredible in their own way.”

“Look at Grandmaster Tamimi’s apprentice, Master Damir.” Layla skillfully picked up the topic. “His techniques are similar to those of his master, but I can see he added his own flair to them.”

“Urgh, I wish I could eat them too.” Faris gulped, wiping away the drool with his sleeve. “I really envy the judges.”