# 3
"Rena, get this done—quickly!"
The sous chef Fandi's loud, booming shout echoed across the partitions between the kitchen stations.
"Yes, Chef!" Renata replied, half-panicked.
The young girl, who had been trying her luck as an assistant chef for only two months, nodded quickly, forcing her already heavy-feeling legs to move faster. For eight nonstop hours, order after order had been hurled at her without the slightest break. "Rena, fetch the ingredients!" "Rena, clean the station!" "Rena, chop the onions!" As if she were the only assistant in the entire place. Cold sweat streamed down her pale temples. Her face looked utterly haggard, dark circles bruising the skin around her eyes. Her once-full body had grown thinner, worn down by the physical exhaustion and mental torment pressing in on her every day.
With slightly trembling fingers, Renata hurriedly grabbed a pile of shallots, garlic, and an array of fresh vegetables ready to be prepared. Her kitchen knife began clacking against the wooden cutting board. But just as the rhythm of her knife quickened, a strange, horribly familiar sensation suddenly stabbed at the back of her neck.
The sharp aroma of spices hanging in the air instantly evaporated, replaced by a bone-deep chill. The air around her suddenly felt incredibly heavy. The hairs on Renata's neck stood on end. Her heart pounded. The girl froze, not daring to look behind her because she knew for certain that an invisible entity was standing right behind her, blowing an icy breath against her neck.
Ever since she was little, Renata had been born with her inner eye open. She was an indigo girl forced to see horrifying forms from other dimensions. Even though not every spirit revealed its entire form to her, their mere presence was enough to shatter her mentally. On top of that, her physical condition was frail, and whenever her energy was drained by an interaction with the supernatural like this, her body would immediately collapse and fall ill.
The chill grew denser, creeping from her shoulder down her arm. Renata closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to hold on to the last of her awareness and keep her focus on the knife in her hand. But a black shadow flickered at the edge of her vision. From beside the cutting board, a pitch-black hand with long, rotten nails reached out, about to claw around her fingers.
"Aahh!"
A piercing scream burst from Renata's throat as overwhelming shock and panic seized her. Her hand slipped from the knife handle.
The sharp blade veered off and sliced deeply into her index finger. Fresh, dark-red blood immediately spurted out, dripping onto and staining the wooden cutting board and the chopped onions beneath it.
"Rena! You're always so careless!" Fandi snapped, rushing to her station with his face bright red. The sous chef's voice only made the busy kitchen even more chaotic. "You've been working as an assistant chef here for two months, and there's still been absolutely no improvement!"
"I'm sorry, Chef," Renata squeaked hoarsely. She bowed her head deeply, squeezing her fingers tightly as fresh blood continued to pour from them, trying to endure the sting.
"What's going on here?" A deep, commanding voice cut in. Bima, the head chef wearing the signature Black Apron of a head chef, walked over. His sharp eyes moved between Renata and Fandi.
"Chef Bima, see for yourself! She keeps causing trouble," Fandi complained irritably, pointing at Renata's bloodstained cutting board. "I only told her to slice the seasonings, and she hurt her fingers! I can't work with her anymore. She can't do anything right. Just find a new assistant chef to replace her!"