Chapter 822
Aaron frowned. “Don’t judge a dish by its appearance!”
But you didn’t seem to like the dish when it was first served, his assistant mused silently.
Of course, he dared not say it out loud.
Aaron gave him a fork. “Try it. You’ll find out why I want to buy the restaurant.”
His assistant was surprised. In Turlen, the strict social hierarchy meant that a servant would never get to share his or her master’s food.
He accepted the fork earnestly and picked a slice of meat from the side of the bowl before placing it into his mouth carefully.
Even though Aaron had praised the food, the assistant still couldn’t bring himself to believe that the bowl of stew was delicious. Mr. Aaron must’ve been starving. Anything would be delicious to him!
Without warning, the meat melted inside his mouth.
It was tender and fresh. Though the taste was slightly spicy, it was still acceptable.
“How was it?” Aaron lifted his chin and inquired, as though he had prepared the dish himself.
It took the assistant a while to regain his composure. He stuttered, “I-It cannot be described in words.”
Rising to his feet, he declared, “I shall get the owner right away!”
“Off you go, then!” Aaron waved him away. When the second dish was served, he continued gulping down the food. His antics soon attracted the other diners’ attention.
“Maureen’s Kitchen did a good job. Look, a foreigner’s here!”
“That foreigner looks like he had starved for ages. Ha!”
“Stop laughing. You were the same earlier! Now that you’re full, you’re laughing at him?”
The diners chatted happily around Aaron. This was the first time he had experienced such a lively meal, for back in his country, everyone ate in silence. It suddenly occurred to Aaron that it would be nice to chat with friends over a meal.
He was engrossed in his thoughts when his phone suddenly rang.
Only less than five people had his phone number.
His face darkened as he pulled out his phone. The caller ID made his displeasure heighten.
After taking a breath, he spoke in Turlenese. “Hello, Grandma.”
“I heard you’re in Chanaea?” An elderly but terrifying voice rang out.
“Yes,” Aaron answered. “Father gave me a mission to complete.”
“I don’t care what he wants you to do. For now, you need to complete the mission I entrust you,” the voice demanded tartly.
Aaron had no choice but to say, “Yes, of course. What is it about?”
“Head to No. 111 on Sunflower Street. There will be a woman waiting for you there. Arrange for her to leave Chanaea at once. She’s wanted there, so I need you to give her a disguise and a fake identity,” she ordered.
“Understood.”
His grandmother urged, “Get going now! Time is of the essence, so I need her to leave Chanaea by tonight.”
“Got it. I’m on it right now.”
After the call ended, Aaron stood up. He gazed at the third dish that was just served and looked away in frustration
Grandma’s so annoying. She and Father aren’t on good terms, but I have to carry out both missions. Ugh!
Right then, his assistant rushed over to him, “Mr. Aaron, they refused to sell the restaurant and gave us the owner’s contact number instead.”
