Darkstone Code-Chapter 705 - 0703 Meeting

After watching Nell leave, Serra looked at Lynch on the side, "I’m grateful you could come back. It’s our fault..."

As she spoke, she fell silent.

Money is truly a good thing. If it were the Serra from before, she certainly wouldn’t have these complex thoughts now, nor would she express herself in this way. Money allowed her to enjoy a better life while also cultivating her temperament.

She knows how to express certain things properly, like an apology.

Lynch held her hand and shook his head, "This is your mutual choice; I will respect your wishes. No one owes anyone anything. You giving me life is the greatest blessing to me. I don’t have the right to demand an apology from you for your own matters."

Serra smiled, not continuing the discussion on this issue. She changed the topic, "You won’t be in a hurry to leave, will you?"

"No, I’ll wait a couple of days before leaving."

"That’s perfect. Suddenly, I feel like cooking. I want to make something for you to eat." There was one sentence she didn’t say—such chances won’t be frequent in the future.

Actually, she already made breakfast for Nell this morning—the last breakfast.

After returning home, Serra began directing the maid to prepare the evening’s ingredients, while she declined the invitations of several ladies. Now, she just wanted to stay quiet for a while. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The seemingly mundane divorce still gave her a certain degree of shock.

During the afternoon, mother and son watched TV together, or casually chatted about some very ordinary topics.

At five o’clock, Serra changed into an apron and entered the kitchen.

Lynch assisted her.

"I haven’t cooked dinner myself for quite some time,"

She said while skillfully handling the kitchen utensils, "Sometimes I feel like it’s all a dream, nothing seems that real."

Dinner in the Federation is the most elaborate and sumptuous meal of the three daily meals. In the Federation, it’s common to see people eating toast for breakfast, toast for lunch, and waiting all day to savor dinner.

Starting from around five o’clock, those women in the Federation who aren’t employed begin to prepare dinner. They mostly use some tomatoes and onions as the base for simmering a sauce.

Once the sauce reaches a certain point, some of it is taken out and used as the base for steak sauce, while another part is combined with water and additional ingredients to become various peculiar soups.

For housewives in the Federation, there’s nothing a pot of stew can’t fix. If there is, just add more tomatoes and onions.

Smelling the already somewhat unfamiliar scent from memories, Lynch reminisces about the past. Every day, when he got home from school, it was this aroma.

On the scorched stove sat a black and yellowish pot of soup; that color isn’t dirt—it can’t be washed off—it’s already seeped into the surface.

Inside, a bubbling tomato soup was stewing, with a bit of onion, some carrot, and a bit of potato.

If it was the day Nell received his pay, there would be some minced beef and white mushrooms, and a dash of spice.

Back then, he just had to sit and wait until around seven-thirty when Nell returned from the factory to start eating.

His and Serra’s dinner were mostly fried eggs with some minced meat, while Nell ate a whole cut-back steak. He was the master of the house and also the source of the family’s income, so he rightfully enjoyed the best dinner.

As for Lynch and Serra, they could use the hard-as-a-rock dinner rolls to scrape up the leftover tomato onion sauce and eat it with the minced beef.

The tomato onion sauce was a bit sour, a bit sweet, and could soften the dinner rolls. Eating a bite could choke someone; at this point, taking a sip of the tangy tomato onion potato carrot soup, one would feel comfortable.

Somewhat cozy—this might be the feeling children have; perhaps this is what writers refer to as the feeling of "home."

But only adults know this is the helplessness of life.

A little past six o’clock, the mother and son sat at the dining table, the food all prepared. When the last steak was brought over, Serra removed her apron. She habitually wiped her hands with the apron and then set it aside.

"I hope my skills haven’t declined..." She placed the steak into Lynch’s plate and poured tomato onion sauce over it.

This sauce doesn’t look like the bright red people imagine. In fact, it turns slightly yellow toward the end of cooking, with an aromatic and tangy flavor.

Tanginess signifies freshness and health—it’s a very strange cognition. In the Federation, if someone asks you whether a fruit is fresh, they must be asking if it is sweet enough or sour enough.

Lynch said thank you, picked up a knife and fork, and cut a small piece of beef, wrapped it in sauce, and put it in his mouth.

The tomatoes were completely stewed, and the onion particles, after long-time high-temperature stewing, were left with a soft texture barely noticeable. The sauce itself is mainly fresh tangy with a hint of sweetness, with some other seasonings added, but it’s centered around those two flavors overall.

They effectively neutralized the faint gamy taste from the blood leaking out of the rare steak. Whether it’s myoglobin or just blood, as long as it’s blood, there will be a little beefy taste.

The acidity also makes one’s appetite grow.

"Not bad at all, nothing different from before," Lynch sincerely commented, "Very good!"

"This is your grandfather’s exclusive secret sauce," Serra said with a smile. Every family’s sauce comes from "tradition." She looked at Lynch, seemingly implying something, "When can I pass on this ’secret’?"

"That’s a very personal topic. I don’t plan to get married anytime soon."

"Sorry...," Serra apologized for the abrupt question, "In fact, getting married later is good. At least you have more choices..."

The mother and son were eating when someone suddenly visited at this unusual time for a visit.

The maid stood outside the dining room, slightly nervous, "It’s Mr. Koman..."

Serra’s expression was a bit surprised; the maid seemed uneasy, while Lynch was a bit curious, "Mr. Koman... do I know him?"

Serra’s expression was a bit strange, slightly embarrassed, "He’s my fitness trainer and is pursuing me." She said as she glanced at Lynch, "Do you want to meet him?"

Lynch hesitated for a moment but ultimately agreed.

Soon, the fitness trainer named Koman walked in from outside.

He looked decent, well-built, especially with broad shoulders and a back that sharply contrasted with his slender waist.

In this era where bodybuilding is very popular, people have passively absorbed much bodybuilding knowledge. A bear’s back and a bee’s waist are aesthetic standards in bodybuilding.

Mr. Koman’s body shape matched this era’s understanding of physical beauty.

He had ash-blond hair, looked about thirty-something, and had a smile on his face that wasn’t very displeasing.

As Lynch scrutinized Koman, the fitness trainer also observed Lynch. He quickly recognized Lynch, "My god, is it Mr. Lynch?"

He said this, looking toward Serra, who had pride and happiness on her face, "That’s my son."

With Mr. Koman joining them, dinner ended quickly, and the trio moved to the living room. Serra left to get some tea for the two men, leaving them alone for a while.

Koman felt a bit restless, the quiet atmosphere making him feel somewhat stifled. He awkwardly said, "I never knew Serra and you were related. She mentioned you but didn’t say your name. I’m still a bit surprised now..."

At this moment, Koman felt as if he had casually bought a lottery ticket and won a grand prize; Serra being Lynch’s mother was definitely a massive surprise in his life!

By connecting with Lynch, he could soon achieve personal freedom. He wanted to say something more but was stopped by a glance from Lynch.

In that instant, it felt as if a chilling cold water was poured over him, calming Koman down, and he began to sweat.

"No secrets, no deceit, regardless of how you’ve treated this relationship before, even if acting, I hope you can play this role well. Preferably, for a lifetime."

His tone was very light, without any mundane triviality, yet it exerted a lot of pressure on Koman.

Lynch looked into his eyes, "I don’t care if you deceived her before, but from now on, you cannot deceive her. You know, I’m a wealthy man."

That single phrase about being wealthy made Koman swallow hard. In the Federation, you could offend the President, gang members, or politicians, but never offend a rich person.

Whether within or outside the rules, they always have ways to make life tough for someone.

Serra seemed quite fond of this man, so the story must end with a happy ending. This is what Lynch could do for Serra.

Koman calmed down from his euphoria, somewhat guiltily lowering his head, "I think I understand now, Mr. Lynch..."

"You don’t get it!" Lynch directly dismissed his answer, "Until Serra tires of you, you must always play the role you are playing now, and you must say goodbye to your past."

"I will find you something to do so you can maintain a decent life. And what you give up is only a part of your life, got it?"

In fact, Koman didn’t just have one ambiguous relationship. Working as a fitness trainer, especially for these wealthy ladies, is inherently a unique job.

This job’s competitiveness is high, and to maintain these clients, each trainer has different approaches.

Koman read a book, which said that love is always the best way to keep a woman interested in the world. This trick indeed worked well until this moment.

Things settled down between them; Lynch watched TV while Koman pondered his future.