Before long, Arthur returned carrying a bowl of noodles. He set it down in front of me, his face devoid of expression.

I leaned in to take a look; it was just noodles and water, hardly appetizing.

“It looks so unappetizing…” I murmured.

Arthur frowned.

I quickly grabbed a pair of chopsticks and took a bite. The next moment, I spat it out.

“It’s raw…” I grimaced, “and there’s no salt…”

He hadn’t cooked for years. Arthur said nothing, picking up the bowl and heading outside.

The sounds of clattering pots and pans filled the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, he returned with a bowl of what looked more like porridge...