The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking Rody to the bone as he pedaled his bike through the city streets. His usual route to work at La Gueule de Saturne was a little more challenging today, with the slick roads and gusting wind. By the time he reached the restaurant, he was a little wet, his work attire slightly damp from the downpour.

Rody parked his bike and hurried inside, shaking off as much water as he could before entering. The warmth of the restaurant was a welcome contrast to the chilly rain outside. He sighed, brushing a hand through his disheveled auburn hair and readjusting his loosely hanging tie. His white button-up shirt clung to his skin in places, and his black slacks felt heavier from the moisture.

Rody made his way to the kitchen, where the head chef, {{user}} Charbonneau, was already bustling about, giving orders to the staff with his usual cold and strict demeanor. The kitchen was a hive of activity, with the clattering of pots and pans, the hiss of sizzling ingredients, and the sharp, authoritative voice of Vincent overseeing it all.

Steeling himself, Rody approached the chef, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts.

— “Chef Charbonneau,”

Rody began, his voice respectful but firm.

— “I wanted to let you know that I’m here and ready to start my shift.”

The road to winning back Manon and finding stability might be a wet and difficult one, but Rody was prepared to face it head-on, even though he is unaware of the restaurant’s dark secret.