Chapter 36 – The Roast Master
(POV: Ethan)
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There are few things more alarming than Leo humming.
Not because it's bad—God, no. That would've made sense.
No, it's because when Leo hums, it means he's comfortable.
And when Leo's comfortable, something utterly unhinged is about to unfold in our lives.
Case in point: we were watching TV, being aggressively unproductive, when a cooking competition show flickered onto the screen. Bright lights, too much yelling, and a guy in a beanie plating scallops like he was about to perform surgery.
Leo, stretched across the couch like a cat in semi-retirement, tilted his head. "This guy's going to over-reduce the glaze."
Sophia blinked. "What glaze?"
Leo pointed with his mug. "The one on the left burner. See the steam? It's already thickening too fast. He's not stirring it enough."
Ava squinted. "How… how do you know that?"
Leo didn't even look away. "Because it's reducing too fast."
Sophia leaned forward. "You… you cook?"
Leo raised an eyebrow like we'd just asked if he had bones. "Yeah. Of course. I like food."
"No, no—liking food is different from predicting sauce viscosity by steam trajectory," I said, pointing a dramatic finger. "There's a line, Leo. You leapt across it."
He shrugged, sipping his tea with the serenity of someone watching the inevitable downfall of amateurs. "He's also not salting the pasta water enough."
And then—then—the host on the show shouted something about "bland noodles," and the contestant winced.
Ava turned to me. "Is this… is this happening?"
Sophia's eyes narrowed. "Okay. Weird flex, but sure."
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Fast forward to the next day: The Unfortunate Fork in Reality
The next day, we found out Leo had vanished for the afternoon. Again.
Naturally, this meant two things:
1. We'd find out about it after he casually returned with life-altering news.
2. Reality would once again bend the knee to Leo Arclight.
"Where were you?" Ava demanded when he reappeared, completely unfazed, holding a to-go bag of the good dumplings.
Leo sat. "I was accidentally caught up judging a cooking show."
Pause.
Sophia dropped her pen. "You what?"
"I was getting lunch downtown. Got caught in some production chaos. They mistook me for the backup food critic."
I nearly choked on my drink. "And you didn't correct them?!"
Leo tilted his head like a confused cat. "They gave me a pass. And a plate of duck confit. I wasn't going to argue."
Ava's voice climbed a few octaves. "Leo. That's literally impersonating a professional."
"Technically," Leo said, "they assumed I was one. I just… didn't break the illusion."
Sophia put her head in her hands. "This is criminal."
"No, this is Leo," I said.
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Flashback: Meanwhile, at the Studio…
According to Leo (because of course he downplayed it), it had started with chaos. One of the actual judges bailed last-minute, and the crew, panicking, mistook Leo for the food consultant's assistant.
He got ushered backstage, mic'd up, and before he could clarify anything—he was sitting beside two Michelin-star chefs and one aggressively enthusiastic influencer named "Chef Dandy."
"He had a bowtie tattooed on his neck," Leo added, as if that were the most important detail.
"What did you do?" Sophia asked.
Leo leaned back. "Ate. Observed. Commented."
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Cue: Leo's Secret Superpower
Contestant One brought out a rosemary-seared lamb over beetroot puree.
Leo calmly commented on the flavor layering, how the citrus elements in the salad clashed with the earthy tone of the beet, and how the plating suggested a need for balance.
Contestant Two served a vegan mushroom risotto. Leo praised the umami profile, then casually noted the rice was two minutes overcooked.
Chef Dandy nodded solemnly, probably not understanding half of what Leo said.
"Okay, but how do you know this?" Ava demanded, clearly in crisis.
Leo blinked. "I like food. Cooking is relaxing. It's science and art at the same time."
There was silence as we all processed that the guy who once ate an entire bag of chips for breakfast was secretly Remy from Ratatouille.
"Are you telling us," I said slowly, "that you've been holding back Iron Chef-level tastebuds this entire time while we've been eating cafeteria mystery meat?!"
"I made you all carbonara last month."
"That was carbonara?!" Ava shrieked. "I thought that was a pre-made kit!—"
Leo looked vaguely offended. "Excuse me?"
"—And we thought it was a lucky guess!" Ava finished.
Sophia, deadpan: "He grated the cheese by hand, Ava."
"And also that time you cooked us dinner, I thought it tasted unnaturally good." I wondered out loud.
"I used a reverse-sear technique and deglazed the pan with wine," Leo deadpanned. "It wasn't a guess."
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Back to the Show...
At one point, a contestant tried to impress with truffle foam.
Leo: "This tastes like mushroom soap."
Producer: "We're keeping that line."
Chef Dandy: "Love the honesty, bro!"
Apparently, the audience loved him. Twitter clips went viral. "#CasualCritic" trended for two hours.
Leo? He turned down a recurring gig because "it clashed with laundry day."
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Later That Night...
We gathered at Ava's place, watching the aired episode in full. Seeing Leo in a blazer (where did he get that?) calmly destroying overcooked steak was like witnessing a lion in a book club—calm, precise, devastating.
There he was, swirling wine, lifting a fork delicately, offering criticism like a gentle slap with a silk glove.
And the kicker?
He was good.
Genuinely, frustratingly good.
Ava kept pausing the episode. "Okay, no. How do you even taste fennel pollen? Is that a real thing?!"
Leo: "It is. Used subtly, it brings out brightness in fatty meats."
Sophia: "You're not real."
I just stared at the screen, watching our friend flawlessly describe emulsification ratios like he wasn't also the same guy who once confused powdered sugar with flour.
"You're like a culinary cryptid," I muttered.
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Post-Episode Fallout
The internet had thoughts.
Fan edits. Memes. People simping over "Hot Judge #3."
A girl on TikTok broke down Leo's pasta analysis like it was ancient philosophy.
One comment read: "I'd let this man critique my life choices."
Another: "I didn't know I had a type until Casual Food Nerd appeared."
Leo, of course, was unfazed. He handed Ava a grocery list the next day like nothing happened.
"I'm making duck a l'orange tonight. Wanna come?"
Ava just gawked. "Do I need to dress up?!"
Sophia: "I looked up reverse searing. WTH this man has been feeding us gourmet food while acting like it's just eggs and rice."
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Afterword: A Kitchen Conversation
Later, I caught him alone in our kitchen, humming again.
He was chopping onions—flawlessly, I might add—while a pot simmered in the background.
"So…" I began. "Why didn't you ever tell us you could do all this?"
Leo didn't pause. "You never asked."
"That's such a you answer."
He gave a small smile. "Cooking is… mine, I guess. Something I do for myself. No pressure. No expectations. Just taste."
That caught me off guard.
For someone who existed like a myth in motion, Leo cooked like it grounded him. Simple movements, controlled breathing, delicate attention. It was the most human I'd ever seen him.
"You like making people happy," I realized aloud.
Leo glanced at me, something unreadable in his gaze. "Don't we all?"
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End of Chapter 36.