A meticulously prepared sauce was elegantly drizzled by the waiter over steak sliced with perfect precision. Under the brilliant chandeliers, the sheen of the sauce and the marbling of the meat complemented each other beautifully.
The air was thick with the savory aroma of seared meat and the rich fragrance of spices, sketching a sensory tableau of ultimate luxury.
Robert surveyed the private room. It was clearly designed with meticulous care; every ornament exuded a sense of exorbitant value.
In the background, the soft strains of music played on ancient instruments drifted through the air, providing a refined backdrop to the steak that was a masterpiece of color, aroma, and taste—enough to make anyone's mouth water.
However, despite having fasted for a whole day, Robert felt no appetite. He stared at the flawless cut of meat before him, then thought back to the reports he had read before arriving. His stomach churned, and a wave of nausea nearly clawed its way up his throat.
"Just a little longer," Robert thought to himself. "Once Calgar is fully prepared and arrives with sufficient supplies, the situation on Amarah will ease. Everything will get better." He tried to use this thought to suppress the growing discomfort in his heart.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. A waiter entered to report, "My Lord, a representative from the Locke family wishes to see you."
The Locke family—Robert recalled that the person who had invited him to this high-end hotel for dinner shared that name. At the time, having been hungry all day and hearing there was a free meal, he had accepted without a second thought.
Robert shook his head, slightly regretting his impulsiveness. He set down his cutlery and spoke in a flat tone, "Let him in."
The representative pushed the door open, a warm, fawning smile plastered across his face. "Lord Robert, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me."
His gaze quickly swept across the table. When he saw the untouched steak, his smile instantly soured into rage. He whipped around, barking at the waiter, "What is the meaning of this?! Didn't I tell you to provide him with the absolute best service? Why hasn't the Lord eaten a single bite? Did you fail to satisfy him?!"
"That's enough. It has nothing to do with them," Robert interjected, unable to stand the clumsy melodrama. He stopped the "angry" representative and the terrified waiter from continuing their performance. "I simply have no appetite."
"Did you hear that? You should thank Lord Robert for his mercy! Now get out!" The representative shooed the trembling waiter away like a common fly. Then, switching back to a face full of smiles, he turned to Robert. "My Lord, is their service truly acceptable?"
"It's fine," Robert said dryly, a faint trace of irony in his voice. "I haven't seen such extravagant private rooms or such elegant, beautiful servers even on Perditia or Plantidium."
"Hahaha!" The representative clearly didn't hear the death knell in those words; he took them as a genuine compliment. He puffed out his chest proudly. "Well, now you've seen it! Would you like me to have that waitress—" He gave a knowing, lecherous grin, implying a certain "special service."
"No!" Robert cut him off, his voice tinged with impatience. "Is there a reason you invited me here? My time is quite tight."
"No, no, no, you misunderstand," the noble representative waved his hands hurriedly, his smile becoming even more sycophantic. "I just wanted to meet you and admire your presence. I had no other intentions."
Robert sighed softly, feeling more than ever that his precious, dwindling rest time was being squandered. Had he known, he would have stuck to his usual routine: downing a bottle of nutrient solution and hitting the hay. At least he would have gotten an extra hour of sleep.
The noble representative continued with a mix of regret and indignation, "It's a pity you aren't seeing this hotel at its peak. The previous Governor's reckless behavior caused our standard of living to drop significantly. If you had come before, it wouldn't be just one small steak; we would have filled the entire table with delicacies to host you."
He seemed to suddenly remember something and stepped forward, asking Robert expectantly, "By the way, I heard Lord Calgar is arriving soon with a vast amount of supplies. Is that true, Lord Robert?"
Robert could no longer suppress the revulsion in his gut. He replied coldly, "Yes. It isn't a secret."
The noble representative was incompetent at most things, but he was top-tier when it came to reading people in social settings. Sensing Robert's irritation, he immediately bowed and scraped. "In that case, I won't disturb you further. Please, enjoy your meal."
He then beat a hasty retreat, leaving Robert alone once more.
Robert looked at the steak again. He wanted to throw it away, but he felt it was too wasteful.
Ultimately, he picked up his knife and fork, forcing himself to cut a small piece and shove it into his mouth.
The greasy texture, combined with the heavy spices, made him feel as though he were chewing human flesh—Robert remembered his first "memorable" meal in this game.
He stood up abruptly, bolted to the nearby restroom, and uncontrollably threw up everything he had just eaten.
After wiping his mouth with a tissue, Robert leaned against the back of his chair, exhausted. Just then, there was another knock on the door.
Thinking the noble representative had returned, he was about to tell the man to screw off when he heard Mua'dib's familiar voice.
"Hey Robert! Your number one fan is here! Open up, quick!"
Without waiting for a response, Mua'dib pushed the door open. Seeing the nearly untouched steak, he immediately complained, "Holy crap! I'm out there in the freezing wind pulling an all-nighter, and here you are, wining and dining to fancy music? Don't you think I deserve a reward?"
"Your reward is working through the night!" Robert joked with a weary smile, pushing the steak toward him. "Fine, you eat it." He knew Mua'dib had zero qualms about such food.
"For real?" Mua'dib stepped forward with pleasant surprise. He grabbed the cutlery without ceremony and began happily stuffing the steak into his mouth. "Good, good, good," he mumbled between chews. "I'll go give your new video a 'like' right now."
Robert didn't mention that he hadn't been the one running that account for a long time. He simply watched Mua'dib's satisfied expression and lamented, "Sometimes, I really feel like it would be much better to be like you—to think a little less."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mua'dib stopped chewing warily, his cheeks bulging with food. "Are you calling me stupid in a roundabout way? I heard that, you know. Is this how you treat a fan?"
"Don't overthink it. I meant it as a compliment!" Robert stood up and walked toward the door. "Alright, hurry up and eat. We're leaving as soon as you're done. I don't want to stay here for another second."