Chapter 31: Smoke, Spices, and Sibling Rivalry
The night air was still as Ren pushed open the creaky wooden door of their small apartment. The weight of the day—the poison, the visions of his past life as Ina, and the lethal chip now embedded in his neck—felt heavy on his shoulders.
"Hana, I'm home," he called out, trying to keep his voice steady.
Hana hurried out from the inner room, her eyes scanning him instantly. "You were gone all day for that police job interview, weren't you? What happened? Did you get it?"
Ren hesitated. If I tell her the truth, she'll never sleep again, he thought. He forced a tired smile. "Yeah, I got it. It's official."
Hana looked at his dark clothes, though she didn't seem to notice the tactical red piping or the hidden holster under his coat yet. "And the uniform? Why aren't you wearing it?"
"Oh, they haven't issued the official ones yet," Ren lied smoothly. "I'm just wearing this for now."
Hana nodded, satisfied for the moment, then her expression turned into a pout. "Well, Officer, did you at least bring something to eat? I'm starving."
Ren's heart sank. In all the chaos of the underground lab, food was the last thing on his mind. "I... I forgot. I'm sorry, Hana."
"Are you kidding me?!" Hana shouted, throwing her hands up. "You're hopeless! I'm not cooking tonight, Ren. Go back out and find us something."
"Wait, wait!" Ren said, holding up his hands. "I'll do it. I'll cook tonight."
Hana stopped and stared at him, then burst into a fit of giggles. "You? Cook? Mister, remember the last time you tried? You burnt the rotis so bad they looked like coal, and the chicken... I'm pretty sure that was just seasoned ash."
"Hey, I've improved!" Ren insisted, his "Ina" memories whispering about field rations and campfire meals. "Go sit in your room. I'll bring the food to you when it's done. Trust me."
Hana sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. But if you burn the house down, I'm telling the landlord." She disappeared back into her room, still laughing.
Ren walked into the tiny kitchen. Snow, the white cat, was sitting on the counter, her tail flicking back and forth.
"Hey, Snow. Ready to help?" Ren whispered, picking the cat up for a second before setting her down. "Let's make something decent."
He grabbed a heavy metal pot and reached for the high shelf. But as he turned, his coordination—still a bit shaky from the poison—betrayed him.
CLANG! CRASH!
Hana heard a series of loud thuds and the sound of breaking glass. She rushed into the kitchen and froze.
Ren was sitting on the floor, a cooking pot literally balanced on his head like a helmet. He was covered in flour and spilled oil, and a jar of spices had shattered near his feet, dusting his suit in orange powder. Snow was sitting perfectly still next to the stove, looking at him with what could only be described as judgment.
"What. Are. You. Doing?" Hana asked, trying to suppress her laughter but failing miserably.
Ren looked up at her, the pot still on his head. "I... I told you. I can do this. This was just the 'trailer.' The main movie is about to start. Go back to your room, Hana!"
Snow lifted a paw as if to wave Hana away, making Hana lose it completely.
"Please, Ren," Hana wheezed through her laughter. "Just don't break my favorite plates, okay? I'm going back to my room before I die of laughter."
She turned and walked away, her giggles echoing down the hall. Ren sighed, took the pot off his head, and looked at Snow. "Okay, maybe being a soldier is easier than being a chef."