A kitchen functions best when each member knows their role. When every task is executed with precision, balance, and purpose. A brigade will make sure of that. But sometimes, the brigade falls apart. Sometimes, no matter how qualified the chef, the team is simply too flawed to produce anything meaningful. Tonight, allow me to introduce you to the misfits who will join me in this chaotic kitchen.
First, we have Lutherian Locke, my Sous-Chef. Every kitchen needs a right hand man. But you, Locke? You’re far too distracted. You’re lost in your own puzzle box, chasing some grand meaning behind every move.
But you see, a Sous-Chef must be focused, grounded, ready to execute the plan with precision. Instead, you’re consumed by complexity, throwing ingredient after ingredient into the pot hoping for revelation. But in the end? All you’ve done is create confusion. There is no clarity, no meaning. Only chaos on the plate.
Then, there is Wolf Fang Ayame, my Line Cook. You’re quick, you’re powerful, and you bring energy to the kitchen. There is no disputing that. But energy without focus is a recipe for disaster, Ayame. You’re wild, untamed, moving from task to task with no thought for the bigger picture.
In the kitchen, every action matters. Every chop, every stir, every flame must be controlled. But you? You’ve allowed that fire to control you. And in the end, all you’ll produce is something indelicate, unrefined, and forgettable.
Next, there is Mighty Mighty, my Pastry Chef. You offer nothing other than sweetness. A lighthearted charm. But in the kitchen, dessert is the final impression. It should leave a mark. But your desserts? They’re much like your joy. Bright and sweet for a moment, then gone without a trace.
A Pastry Chef must balance sweetness with substance. But sadly, you’re all fluff. There’s no depth, no weight. And no one remembers a sugar high, Mighty. The only thing that matters is what remains after the plate is cleared. And for you? There’s nothing there.
And finally, we have Roland Gray, the Head Waiter. You believe that you run the show, don’t you? You wander the dining room, thinking you know what’s best for the kitchen. But you’ve never touched the ingredients yourself, have you?
You operate on the surface, believing that brute force and precision in the dining room translates to control of the kitchen. But mastery is more than just presentation. It’s about knowing how to craft something with purpose, with care. You’ve been taking orders, Roland, but when it’s your turn to step into the kitchen, you’ll find that all your tricks are useless here.
And so, here we are. A collection of failures, each one of you contributing to the downfall of this kitchen. But you see, luckily, I don’t need a team. I don’t need this brigade of madness. I’ve crafted my art alone, with precision, with patience, while each of you stumble through your tasks, hoping to make something stick.
Come Ring King, my misguided brigade, I’ll be waiting for you at the pass. And once you’ve burned the dish, once your ingredients fail, you’ll understand why you never belonged in my kitchen.