Evan stood with Callisa in the middle of an extremely luxurious street. He felt completely out of place, especially in his everyday clothes. Everything here was incredibly exclusive and obscenely expensive. He wouldn't have been surprised if a glass of plain water cost three figures.
In front of them was a luxurious restaurant. The façade was clad in grey granite, with golden window decorations and red curtains. Above the door hung a sign that read "Vulpine Fine Dining House".
"Is this your family's flagship restaurant?"
"Yes."
Callisa sounded as confident as usual, but Evan noticed something.
"You don't seem happy about it. I mean, that they invited us."
"It's not that. I'd just rather avoid a certain encounter. Let's go."
They passed through heavy dark-wood doors. Behind them stood a goat in a suit, so motionless he could have been mistaken for a mannequin.
"Good afternoon, Miss Vulpine. Good afternoon, honored guest. Do you have a reservation, or has Miss come to visit her parents?"
He spoke in a tone that revealed no emotion while radiating politeness and refined culture.
"I wish to visit my parents. Evan is with me. He was also invited."
She handed him an elegant green envelope with a stylized letter V. The host took the envelope with a distinguished motion, read the invitation inside, put it back, and returned it to Callisa.
"I understand. Please, follow me."
He stepped aside and opened the heavy wooden doors for them.
Inside, soft classical music immediately filled their ears. The floor was covered in burgundy carpet. The walls featured dark wood paneling and burgundy wallpaper, accented with brass details. The tables were spaced far apart, and the chairs looked like miniature thrones and must have been extremely comfortable.
Callisa led him through a door to the back and rang a bell.
The back area was only slightly less opulent than the front. The plastered walls were so perfect they looked like solid marble. Even here, the lighting seemed to serve a greater purpose than mere illumination.
"Dad, I'm here!" she called into the space.
A red fox in a chef's coat emerged from one of the doors. He moved with upright posture and a raised head, carrying the air of a celebrity.
"Welcome, Callisa."
"Welcome, Dad."
Then the fox looked at Evan. There was something in those eyes — intense contemplation. Evan didn't sense hunger from him, but he had a strange feeling he might end up in the kitchen very soon.
"Dad!"
The fox froze for a moment, then gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
"Forgive me."
Callisa cleared her throat.
"Evan, this is my father, Dorian Vulpine."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Vulpine."
"Nice to meet you, Evan."
The fox studied him as if evaluating him.
"Darling, behave yourself."
A vixen entered the hallway. She moved with the grace of a movie star at an awards ceremony and the confidence of a corporate CEO.
"Mother, this is Evan."
"Evan, this is my mother, Elara Vulpine," Callisa said in a slightly annoyed tone. "Is my sister here?"
"No. Lysandra is currently away."
Some invisible tension seemed to drain from Callisa.
Meanwhile, her father was nervously twitching his tail.
"Forgive him. My husband has been constantly dreaming about performing a professional meat evaluation on a human," the mother said, rolling her eyes.
Evan glanced between Callisa and her parents, thought for a moment, and said:
"I think I can allow him to do that."
Both women looked at him in mild shock. The boy turned to Callisa.
"Nothing will happen. It's just an examination. Otherwise your father probably won't calm down."
His daughter shot her father a displeased look as he walked away with Evan. On the way out she warned him not to cook Evan by accident.
They found themselves in a small but incredibly professionally equipped kitchen. It had everything: collections of knives, a huge oven, a wood-fired open hearth large enough to serve as a spit or grill, a massive cauldron — everything scaled for whole carcasses.
On one shelf stood an impressive collection of spices — everything from rosemary to saffron, including some Evan didn't recognize.
Nearby was a large refrigerator. In the corner was a washing area. The center was dominated by an enormous island.
"This is my private kitchen. This is where I work on various experiments. No one will disturb us."
Evan was slightly stunned. Was all of this one chef's personal playground?
"Every master chef has one like this."
The fox waved his paw.
"Not every one. Only the most elite with the right budget."
"So the Director has one too?"
"You mean Master Flambe? Undoubtedly. If he didn't devote himself to teaching and politics, he would be a truly remarkable chef."
Evan looked at him in surprise.
"So the Director isn't at the very top?"
The chef thought for a moment.
"He's somewhere in the upper tier if we're talking purely culinarily. That's because his restaurants are mostly run by his students while he supervises. Plus, he's not a culinary celebrity. Between politics and the school, he doesn't have time for it."
Vulpine spread his arms in mild disbelief.
"Sometimes I wonder where he finds the time for everything…"
"I see."
Evan began examining the various stations.
"This kitchen is really incredible."
"Thank you."
Evan focused on the oven.
"Callisa told me what she did on your first date." Evan looked at him. "I apologize for her. She's always been very emotional."
Evan quickly waved his hand.
"It's fine. That matter is closed."
"Thank you. You seem remarkably calm."
Evan sighed.
"I've gotten used to it. I've already been cooked several times. Not to mention…" Evan blushed and scratched the back of his head.
"Youth. Well, you have to go wild sometimes. Speaking of which — are you still determined?"
"And you want to back out?"
A spark appeared in the fox's eye.
"Not a chance." He pointed to a spot on one of the cabinets. "You can leave your clothes there."
Evan started undressing. When he finished, the host began asking questions.
"Tell me about your diet."
Evan thought for a moment.
"Mostly vegetarian."
"You don't eat meat?"
"Before the date I didn't have the chance, and afterward I somehow didn't feel like it."
"Do you smoke? Drink?"
"I don't smoke. I drink only occasionally."
"Do you exercise?"
"Running and some general fitness training."
The fox smiled widely, like a jeweler who had found an exceptional gem. He murmured under his breath about premium quality, well-maintained product, clean aroma.
"Master Vulpine…"
The fox cleared his throat.
"Forgive me. You're young, well-groomed, and on a good diet. Even if you weren't human, that alone would put you high on the premium list."
Evan found himself smiling. It had been a long time since anyone had complimented him like that.
"Though you don't have much volume… You're normal, without excess. You won't yield huge amounts of meat, but every piece is premium quality."
"Well, you can't have everything."
Evan chuckled lightly. The fox nodded.
"Could you undress completely?" Evan looked at him surprised. "I'd like to check your muscle structure."
After a moment of understanding, Evan undressed without a word. The chef observed him for a while before beginning to touch him.
"Excellent legs. Strong muscles with tight fibers and not too much fat."
He focused on one spot.
"Slightly tense muscles, but that's due to your lifestyle. Hard to avoid when you're such a desirable product."
He touched him in many places before finishing.
"And how is it, sir?"
The chef's eyes were shining — not with hunger, but with fascination. Like a master craftsman who had found a material he had never even dared to dream of, one that promised the chance to create the greatest possible masterpiece.
"Magnificent… legends don't do it justice… simply wonderful meat." Evan smiled while Dorian rubbed his paws together. "So clean and well-maintained. This is the dream of elite chefs. A bit lean, but if prepared properly, that won't be a problem."
Evan sat on the table. For some reason he felt an indescribable excitement. He extended one leg toward him.
"What would you suggest? For example…"
The fox looked at him with a smile. His teeth gleamed.
"You're young, delicate, slim, and athletic. Perfect for luxury fine dining."
He began touching Evan's leg as if imagining the ideal recipe.
"No heavy, fatty concepts. Only a precise and fully controlled process. No high temperatures. Medium will be ideal. Aromatic herbs, light smoke, and elegant sauces would be perfect."
He examined several individual parts.
"A roasted torso would be a truly royal dish. So many different textures in one plate. Paired with a wine reduction."
He touched Evan's thighs.
"Perfectly developed through exercise. So much potential. Pulled meat, or perhaps roasted in herbs and wine, or a ragout."
He touched Evan's arms.
"Something different here. Minimal processing. Something like carpaccio."
A spark appeared in his eyes.
"And it's not just about the meat." For a moment it seemed the chef wished he had X-ray vision. "The bones and offal also have great potential. Truly every element is like a culinary gem. An absolute treasure chest."
The fox began arranging Evan on the table. Evan allowed it. Soon he was lying in the position of a luxury roast.
"Should one divide such a treasure? The legend might weaken. Roasting whole could become a true legend. Of course, it's not only about the dish — the sides and wine matter, but also the presentation. Music… the setting…"
He looked at Evan with something that resembled possessive desire. Suddenly he slapped both of his own cheeks. Evan looked confused.
"Forgive me. I started losing control. Thank you. You may get dressed now. The others are waiting…"
Evan began dressing. He had a strange feeling — like a sudden cliffhanger at a very exciting moment. Yet he wasn't upset about it. He couldn't quite name it.
Lately he had been experiencing many things he couldn't name.