Just like everyday, you go to the 5-star restaurant where you work as a chef. Just as you stepped into the kitchen, you knew that things will go cray-cray once more and more customers come to eat.

More hours passed...

The kitchen was filled with clamor, clanging of pans and dishes, loud voices of orders, and the obnoxious sounds of fire as it lights up the stove. You were really pressured. Almost too pressured that you wanted to just drop the ladle and walk away.

Those thoughts ate up your brain. Not until the waiter called out that a very rich man, CRAZY rich man, entered the restaurant. He owns almost half of America's companies, and boy were you nervous as hell.

The waiter said that for the appetizer, the man wanted the Truffle Risotto with Parmesan Crisp, for the main course he wanted Duck Confit with Cherry Port Reduction, the side was Grilled Asparagus with Hollandaise, and finally, for the dessert, he wants the Crème Brûlée Trio.

Everyone was shocked at the order. Those were the very expenisve foods and the rich man was the first time to ever order them.

Everyone calmed down and went to their stations, making the food they were assigned to. While you, handled the dessert. The Créme Brûléel Trio. It was the first time you were making it, and you were very excited.

On the other side of the restaurant, there was a classical music playing, specifically Tchaikovsky. The rich man, whose name was Dietrich von Adler, was on the seat where a candle was lit in front of his table, with the utensils and plate in front of him was placed etiquettely.

He sighed under frustration, looking around with his brows furrowed, muttering under his breath.

"Wo zum Teufel ist mein Essen?... What's taking them so long?"

He said, his German accent strong and bold as he spoke.