Chapter 15 – The Wheel’s Gift
Chapter 15 – The Wheel's Gift
The silver wheel slowed, each click echoing in Max's mind like the ticking of fate.
Click... click... click...
It stopped.
> **You have obtained: Roast Chicken Recipe – Divine Level**
Suddenly, a sharp yet controlled stream of information surged into Max's mind.
His eyes widened.
He staggered back slightly, gripping the edge of the counter for balance.
The name was simple: **Roast Chicken** — but what unfolded in his mind was anything but simple.
He saw herbs. Dozens of them.
The scent of rosemary, thyme, lemongrass, cardamom, even herbs he had never used together before.
Forty-nine in total.
All combining into a marinade so delicate and balanced that it required **precision down to the gram**. The recipe was clear: marinate for exactly two hours, roast under high-pressure steam, then finish at a dry high temperature to crisp the skin while sealing in the moisture.
Max took a slow breath.
> *"This… this isn't just a dish. It's a signature."*
He didn't add it to the menu yet. Not tonight. No, something like this had to be tested properly.
And so, as the restaurant quieted and the others left for the night, Max sat back down at one of the cleaned tables, alone with the quiet hum of the kitchen and the afterglow of divine inspiration.
He knew what he needed to do next.
Tomorrow, he'd begin the hunt for ingredients.
—
The following morning, Max woke up just before dawn. The sky was a shade of grey-blue, and the cool air carried a breeze that tugged at his jacket as he left his small apartment.
The same routine began.
By 4:30 AM, the team had assembled.
Tommy headed straight to the kitchen, Kayla checked the ingredients from the new delivery, Rick cleaned and polished the floors, and Jimmy handled the front counter.
Max smiled faintly as he washed his hands and stood back for a moment.
He wasn't rushing anymore.
The stress that used to squeeze his chest every morning had loosened.
Tommy was learning the prep steps well, and though Max still insisted on adding the final touches to every dish — ensuring the balance of flavor remained under his control — the team was doing fine.
> *"They're reliable… maybe I can finally start looking forward."*
The day passed quickly. Customers streamed in steadily, and most left smiling. Some stayed to compliment Tommy's fast service, or Rick's ever-clean tables. A few returned just to ask Max how he made the toast so perfect.
By the end of lunch, Max had already made up his mind.
Today, he would buy what he needed for the new **Roast Chicken** recipe.
---
After cleaning and locking up around 5:45 PM, Max headed toward the older market district. It wasn't far — maybe a fifteen-minute walk — but it felt different now. Purposeful.
Stop One: Poultry Shop
The small poultry shop was tucked into a corner between a noodle stall and a tea wholesaler. A wide man in his forties stood behind the counter, cutting meat on a wooden board.
Max stepped in and waited for the man's attention.
"Need something?"
"Yeah. Looking to buy four whole chickens, good quality — about 1.7 kilos each. No marinade, clean, fresh."
The butcher looked him over for a second.
"You cookin' at home?"
"No. I run a small restaurant nearby."
The man gave a nod and went to the back.
A few minutes later, he returned with four wrapped chickens in a cold storage bag.
"These are good ones. 13 dollars a bird. If you need more in the future, let me know ahead. I've got contacts with a farm out of town."
Max pulled out a small notepad from his jacket and noted the name.
> Poultry Total: $52
They exchanged numbers. No over-the-top talk, just business.
---
The herbal store sat on a side street, its window dusty, the lettering faded. Inside, it smelled like dried citrus, mint, and old wood.
A woman in her thirties stood behind the counter, rearranging glass jars.
Max walked slowly around the shop, scanning shelves and wooden drawers.
"Need help finding anything?"
"Actually, yeah," Max said, pulling a folded list from his pocket.
"I'm looking for several herbs. Maybe around fifty types — mostly common, nothing exotic. And I don't need them labeled as a mix."
He placed the list down but didn't show the full recipe. The 49 herbs were divided across three sections, intermingled with unrelated ingredients — a safety measure.
The woman raised an eyebrow, scanning the list.
"Planning on blending these yourself?"
"Something like that," Max replied, casual. "I like experimenting."
She nodded. "Most of these are available. You want small quantities?"
"Yes. 100 grams of each. Also, do you have sealable glass containers?"
"Sure. \$1.50 each. Herbs vary. The whole batch will run you about \$85."
Max agreed. He waited as she measured and packed, keeping an eye on her hands. Nothing suspicious — just a professional.
He bought ten glass containers, added a few extra herbs to throw off suspicion, and picked up some kitchen gloves and a spice strainer.
> **Herbs + Supplies Total: \$102**
He also picked up a small herb-based cleaning soap she recommended for removing strong odors.
---
Max stopped at a tool shop before heading home.
He picked up a **precision digital scale** accurate to 0.01g — the kind used in spice balancing or lab testing. It cost him \$25.
He also found a **temperature probe** for oven use and a set of refillable spice tubes — nothing flashy, just practical.
> Tools Total: $35
--
Max returned to his tiny apartment by 7:30 PM.
It was a one-bedroom, barely enough for him and his supplies. The kitchen was cramped, the counters scratched, and the cupboards old.
He placed the chickens in the fridge, set the herbs on the table, and washed his hands.
Looking around, a thought settled in his mind.
> *"I can't keep living here forever. If things keep going well… maybe in a few months, I can get a real place. A small house. Nothing fancy, just space."*
He smiled at the idea.
---
Max dried his hands and pulled out his phone.
Max:
> "Testing a new dish tonight. Want to be my test subject?"
Emily:
> "Ooh, mysterious. What's the occasion?"
Max:
> "Let's just say… it might become our first delivery item. I'll prepare something that'll surprise you."
Emily:
> "I'm on my way."
Max began weighing the herbs carefully using his new scale.
One by one, he placed each into its own glass container, labeled only with a code. Then, he mixed the marinade — thick, aromatic, golden in color, speckled with green.
He prepped one chicken, coated it, sealed it in a glass bowl, and placed it in the fridge.
Two hours.
Just enough time for Emily to arrive.
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