They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System
Chapter 107 - 107 Food Hypnosis

Chapter 107: Food Hypnosis Chapter 107: Food Hypnosis The smell was already incredible, but the taste?

It was a hundred times better!

Nnenna marveled at how people had been missing out on such a delicacy.

“Grandpa, this is amazing!

I’ve been missing out!

How do you make these so good?” The old man chuckled.

“It’s a special recipe.

I can teach you if you want,” he offered.

She blinked in surprise.

Who just willingly shared their secret recipe like that?

The fact that he trusted her enough to offer was shocking.

“No, no, Grandpa!

You don’t have to teach me,” she waved her hands frantically.

“I just want to help cook!” He nodded approvingly.

“Alright then, let’s get started.” Right in front of her, he began preparing the dish again, moving with practiced ease, his hands swift yet precise.

He did not mind that she was watching his every move, if anything, he seemed to enjoy it.

The old man’s hands moved with a practiced rhythm, each motion deliberate, each cut, stir, and pour an act of quiet mastery.

Smoke curled lazily from the fire, blending with the rich aroma of palm oil as it sizzled in the pot.

The air beneath the tree shade grew thick with the scent, earthy beans, ripe plantains, and a promise of something mouthwatering.

Nnenna stood nearby, arms folded, sunglasses hiding the curious glint in her eyes.

Her shawl draped loosely over her shoulders, masking her true self beneath the worn fabric of a servant’s attire.

She was drawn in by the old man’s cooking, watching as if this were some grand performance.

And in a way, it was.

“You know,” the old man muttered, stirring the pot with a heavy wooden spoon, “I don’t usually cook outside like this.” A smile tugged at Nnenna’s lips.

“That’s why no one knew what they were missing.” The old man huffed a laugh but did not argue.

Instead, he focused on the pot, eyes sharp as he checked the beans.

Soft.

Perfect.

He scooped a handful of golden plantains and dropped them in, the slices sinking into the bubbling broth.

Ssssshhhhh.

The sound of oil meeting fire sent a rich, fragrant steam into the air.

It wrapped around them like an invisible hand, coaxing out a deeper hunger.

The plantains softened, their natural sweetness bleeding into the pot, fusing with the heartiness of the beans.

Nnenna watched intently in awe, though she feigned calmness.

He worked without hesitation, adding a pinch of salt, a generous handful of ground crayfish, and a careful dusting of pepper.

Each ingredient wove into the dish, deepening the color, thickening the scent.

The bubbling grew louder, the stew thick and glistening under the flickering firelight.

As the ingredients sizzled in the pan, an irresistible aroma filled the air.

Within thirty minutes, the scent had spread far and wide, drifting down the street like an invisible invitation.

Heads turned, footsteps slowed, and soon enough, people who had no intention of stopping were now gravitating toward the stall, their noses leading the way.

In less than thirty minutes, more people began arriving, their steps quick, their eyes scanning eagerly as if they had been waiting all along, just to be sure the food was truly ready.

“Old man!

Give me one dish!

I’ll eat it here!” a construction worker announced, his voice loud and filled with urgency.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and let out a chuckle.

“This smell has been messing with my head all along!

I couldn’t even concentrate!

I said to myself, ‘Forget it, take the break now before I go mad!'” Laughter rippled through the small crowd as the old man smiled, ladling out a steaming portion of the rich, golden dish onto a leaf plate.

“At least you know when to give in,” he remarked, handing it over.

One after another, customers stepped forward, the line growing faster than he could serve.

The air buzzed with chatter, spoons clinking, and satisfied hums of enjoyment.

The once quiet shade under the tree had transformed into a bustling, lively corner of the market.

Minutes turned into an hour, then another.

The old man moved with steady precision, serving, stirring, refilling plates, until there was nothing left to give.

By the time the evening sun cast long shadows over the market, he stood staring at his empty pot, blinking in disbelief.

Gone.

Every last dish sold out.

Even the extra portion he had set aside for himself and the little girl who had been helping him serve customers and collect money had been bought in the rush.

He let out a slow, deep breath, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Well,” he muttered, stretching his back, “I guess I underestimated them.” Nnenna, lingering nearby after giving a customer his change, smiled from beneath her shawl.

“Told you,” she said simply.

The old man shot her a sideways glance.

“Hmph.

Looks like I will need more ingredients tomorrow.” The old man let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the empty pot again.

He was not happy that the girl’s share was sold too.

He didn’t want to sell it, but the girl told him to.

She hadn’t complained.

She just insisted she wasn’t hungry.

His gaze flickered to Nnenna, who was adjusting her shawl, preparing to leave.

She had worked tirelessly, collecting money, giving change, keeping everything in order, while all he had to do was serve the food.

“You should take something for your trouble,” he said gruffly, reaching for his pouch.

“I’ll pay you.” But Nnenna shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Keep it,” she said.

“You’ll need it for tomorrow.

You should be fully stocked, more food, drinks, better accessories.

Your competitors won’t know what hit them.” The old man blinked, caught off guard.

He had expected some negotiation, maybe even playful haggling.

But no, she was serious.

For a girl who dressed like a servant, she had the mind of a strategist.

CREATORS’ THOUGHTS JedidiahBeaufoy Your gift is the motivation for my creation.

Give me more motivation!