We stood in front of the kitchen counter, where a greenveg was lying on the cutting board in front of each of us. Looking at the knife to the right of the board, I recalled the speed with which Neight had chopped ingredients while preparing breakfast.

Here comes a moment of embarrassment, I worried. Although I could cook, I would rate my skills as "average" at best and certainly wouldn't call myself an expert. After all, I was just an ordinary high schooler living in a family where cooking was usually done by my mom or, in extreme cases, by my dad.

"Let's begin," Neight said, picking up the knife. "First, you need to peel the fruit, then cut it into small pieces like this."

As he explained, he deftly grabbed his greenveg, made several quick cuts, and peeled off the skin in one smooth motion. Immediately after, he halved the fruit and, with the speed of a food processor, chopped it into small cubes. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the sight, and I began to feel even more insecure. On the other hand, I was somewhat in awe of his skills, even as they intimidated me.

How does he do that, and more importantly, where and when did he learn?

"Done. Now it's your turn," Neight said with a smile, placing the knife down.

Well, here goes nothing.

I took the greenveg in front of me and made cuts similar to Neight's. It turned out a bit crooked, but it would do. After all, I wasn't creating a work of art. The fruit itself felt quite soft inside, and the skin peeled off easily, which was a relief. Then I began chopping. I think I did pretty well. Sure, the cubes weren't perfectly shaped, and it took me longer than Neight, but I'm not a professional chef.

"Excellent, you did a great job," Neight praised my work, and my mood lifted immediately. "Now we need to puree everything."

He tossed all the chopped cubes into the blender bowl and showed me which button to press. The blades spun at high speed, turning the contents into a thick, smooth mass. At that moment, I decided to start a conversation, hoping to learn a bit more about my companion.

"You're really skilled with a knife. You must have practiced a lot to reach that level of mastery."

God, I hope that didn’t sound too weird.

I felt a bit awkward. Perhaps Neight hadn't expected such a compliment from me, as he didn't reply right away.

"Training did take some time, but I wouldn't say it was long. I'm sure you'll learn just as well," he replied with a smile. However, it seemed unnatural.

It’s going to be tough to get anything out of him.

"I don’t think so," I said. "I’m not exactly talented at cooking."

"Nonsense. Talent might give you a slight advantage, but the key is practice. If you repeat the same actions a thousand times, you'll inevitably master the skill."

"If I prepare a thousand greenvegs, I'll reach your level of skill?" I decided to joke.

"I don't think so. But ten thousand should be enough," he replied.

I responded with a polite smile.

Ten thousand greenvegs... That was a joke, right?

At that moment, the blender finished its work, and Neight took out the bowl with the finished green mass.

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"Let's get back to work. We've finished the preparation, and now the most important part remains—preservation."

Neight approached an integrated food analysis device.

"Actually, this is a multifunctional device. Besides analysis, it can also perform preservation through radiation exposure."

Radiation? I hope that's safe. It's future technology, right?...

Neight pulled out one of the small top drawers and poured the greenveg puree into it, commenting on his actions.

"You need to pour the mass into this compartment. By the way, this step is identical for edibility analysis."

Then Neight opened another drawer at the bottom, which resembled a storage unit since it contained six square-shaped slots. It seemed that this is where the tubes should go.

"And in these slots, the containers need to be placed with the cap facing up," Neight said, confirming my assumption. "It's pretty simple. I'll leave this to you."

"Alright."

Under his supervision, I placed the tubes into the slots. Neight gave an approving smile and slid the drawers shut until they clicked.

Yes, it doesn't seem too hard.

"All that's left is to start the process and wait for 15 minutes," Neight explained while pressing buttons on the device's control panel.

"That’s fast," I said in surprise.

"Yes, preservation doesn’t take much time."

"And the analysis?" I inquired.

"A bit longer. Usually about 20 minutes. But if the composition is particularly complex, it might require several stages, which will take more time," he explained. "Done, the process has started."

The device hummed softly, signaling the start of its operation. Then there was a hissing sound, as if air was being pumped out from somewhere. Through the dark, thick glass, I could faintly see an opaque chamber inside. Most likely, the mixtures were being poured in there and subjected to irradiation.

It was a pity that nothing visually interesting was happening inside. It would have been nice to watch and observe while waiting. But after estimating how much time it would take me to prepare six greenvegs for the next batch, I realized I wouldn’t have any free time anyway.

"When the device finishes its work, it will beep three times. Then you'll need to remove the ready containers and take them back to the storage in the same section. I’ve shown you everything. I'm sure you'll manage, so I'm heading out for reconnaissance," Neight suddenly announced, heading toward the kitchen exit.

What? What the heck! You're leaving me alone already without even waiting for this crazy machine to finish?!

A slight panic washed over me.

"W-wait!" I almost shouted, managing to stop Neight before he could leave. He turned around and looked at me with a slightly surprised expression. "Please, stay at least until the preservation is finished. What if something goes wrong, and I don’t understand any of this! I need to see how the proper process looks under someone’s supervision at least once. Fifteen minutes isn’t that long to wait, right?"

I looked at Neight with a pleading expression, hoping he would listen to me. After thinking for a couple of seconds, he replied:

"Alright, maybe you're right. I'll wait a little."

So, we sat at the table, waiting for the device to beep three times. It felt like two or three minutes passed in silence. Neight was staring off thoughtfully, probably planning his strategies. Not wanting to sit in silence any longer, I decided to resume our conversation.

"And still, you have a talent."

Neight looked at me questioningly.

"Well, I mean how you cook. I’ve only seen people on the internet chopping vegetables so quickly and precisely. And you said you learned quickly."

"It’s not about talent, it’s about the method of learning," he replied. However, there was a barely noticeable sadness in his voice.

"So," I cautiously continued, "you had a good teacher?"

Neight frowned slightly, thinking before he answered.

"Yes, you could say that."

It doesn’t seem like he’s eager to discuss this. Maybe it’s about the teacher? What if Neight cared deeply for him, and he’s no longer alive?

I thought about my parents. The thought that I would never see them again pained me.

"Your teacher… He was probably someone close to you?"

"It’s hard to say," Neight answered distantly. "But he taught me everything I know."

"I see..."

And again, silence. The conversation didn’t go anywhere. Each of us was lost in our thoughts. It was unclear what was going on in Neight’s mind, what he was thinking, what feelings he was experiencing, but my thoughts were filled with fear and despair. It was easier when we were busy, with no time for worrying thoughts. During work, there’s no time for anxiety, unlike in these idle moments.

In the left corner of the kitchen, three long beeps sounded, resembling the noise of a microwave finishing heating lunch.

"It’s done," Neight said calmly without even turning around. "You can take it out."