The soothing sound of the alarm was as gentle as the braille on a cheese grater, its volume rising every few seconds until Antonio reached for his BlackBerry and turned it off.

His hand peeked out of his blanket and stumbled around for a while, knocking a bottle onto the carpeted flooring, before eventually turning on the lights.

His eyelids flickered open, the dim amber lighting just barely blinding his sight for a few seconds. Thankfully, the cursed rays of the sun were blocked off by the thick curtains.

Slowly, he rose up from the bed, his spine straightening as he stretched, a groan of relief and pleasure escaping his lips. The faint smell of saffron from the dinner last night still lingered in the air.

Having risen from his eternal slumber, Lord Antonio gazed mindlessly into the ceiling of his room, unlit white light scattered like landmines. And then, abruptly, he reached out for a notebook that laid atop the miniature cabinet next to his bed.

His expression shifted from groggy and sleepy to unusually serious as he read through the details of last night. The small, unassuming notebook contained far more details than one would expect.

Everything from the taste, reaction, and combination of the dishes served, to the texture, presentation, customer service, and nutritional value was jotted down in terrifying detail, countless dishes recorded over the span of merely a week. Everything from the presumed quality of ingredients to the niche details like import tax rates were neatly written down, an almost Orwellian level of perfectionism at play.

Antonio took his job very seriously.

Being one of the only hundred-and-twenty Michelin Star inspectors across the entire planet, Antonio spent three out of four weeks on the road, reviewing cafés and restaurants from sunrise to dawn, all the while maintaining absolute anonymity.

Today was no different, as Antonio stepped out of his bed and into the washroom. It was currently six-thirty in the morning, and he was going to freshen up before reviewing the breakfast served by the hotel.

He switched on the geyser, and withdrew a silver pocket watch from his coat that hung on the rack. Then, he proceeded to methodically brush his teeth to utter perfection, absentmindedly timing himself with his pocket watch as he periodically shifted to various parts of his mouth.

Seeing the ring on the geyser was still glowing blue, it meant the water was still heating up, so he decided to shave instead for the time being, while wondering if he needed a haircut.

Honestly, he looked quite dashing, if he said so himself - with a clear cut jawline, enchanting blue eyes, and fairly long locks of brown hair. If he had to compare, he looked like Flynn Rider without the goatee.

Was it called a goatee? He had no clue.

Noticing that the geyser was still glowing blue, he pondered in place for a bit, before deciding to call and update one of his superiors. Given the disparity in timezones, she should be awake right now.

And right he was, as she picked up the call within seconds.

"Hellooooo ~"

Antonio cracked a smile at the singsong greeting, before holding the phone between his ear and the shoulder, and walking towards the cupboard.

"Good evening to you too, Dana."

The woman named Dana giggled, before her voice came through the device, "So, did you find anything interesting?"

"Interesting, yes, but not in a good way," Antonio replied, as he withdrew an iron from the cupboard and plugged it in, "I need you to check some things for me."

"Hm?" Antonio could practically hear her blinking her eyes and crinkling her nose. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I've tasted quite a few dishes around here for the past week, and the majority of them shared one exact issue, among a few others." Antonio spoke as he laid down his clothes on the bed.

Antonio stripped out of his pajamas and laid them on the bed too, as he reported, "The ingredients feel off, to put it simply. Particularly things like the saffron, and sometimes entire dishes like truffles, taste different than usual."

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"I, uh, can you describe what you mean by them feeling off?" Dana pressed on, her tone slightly uncertain.

"Like an imbalance in umami, a faint taste of petroleum, or just tasteless seasonings as if they've been kept out for too long." Antonio explained as he ironed his clothes, burning every last wrinkle out of existence.

"It's nothing dramatic, and doesn't apply to all the restaurants here either. But the ones with actually good ingredients have an unusually high import tax, so I suspect there's something wrong with the local resources."

Either that, or they were using counterfeit ingredients, but it was unlikely that every restaurant would suddenly resort to synthetic replacements at once, unless of course, something really was wrong with the local resources.

Dana stayed silent for a few seconds, before letting out long and stretched, yet melodic noise, "....hmmmmmmm ~"

"Alright, I'll snoop around for you, and see if I can find anything like crop damages or bad harvest." Dana finally responded, her tone as professional as can be.

Antonio smiled, humming softly as he ironed his shirt. "Thanks. You're amazing." He could practically hear Dana smile like a child on the other side in response.

Suddenly, the geyser made a clicking noise, and the light turned blue. "I'll call you back later. It's currently... six-forty-five on my end."

"Ah, take care then. Buh-byeeee!"

And with that, he cut the call. Sighing, he stretched his legs once more, before switching off the electronics, and stepping into the washroom for a warm, cozy shower, with a lovely sponge, body wash, and a shampoo bottle.

Best part? It was all free! The company covered all expenses related to travel, lodging, and meals, after all. And Antonio, as always, planned to make use of every last penny.

As he showered, his mind wandered off to the history of Michelin, about why a fat tyre company became so associated with gourmet. It was an intriguing story, really.

Michelin launched the Michelin Guide in 1900 to promote road travel and boost tire sales, offering maps, mechanics, and restaurant recommendations to make journeys more enjoyable. Over time, the guide evolved into a trusted authority on fine dining, associating the Michelin name with quality and prestige.

So even though many make fun of Michelin Stars for being such a big deal in the gourmet world, dismissing it for being a 'fat tyre magazine,' to confuse The Michelin Tyre Company with The Michelin Guide is just a sign of one's ignorance.

As the warm water in the shower ran out - since he'd switched the geyser off earlier - and water started to turn cold, Antonio snapped out of his thoughts, and stepped out of the shower. A soft, red fabric towel swept across his skin and ruffled his hair, drying him right up.

Then, he poured some coconut hair oil, and massaged his scalp, and then styled his hair with a comb and the heat of a hairdryer. Following which, he picked up his perfume, and applied it precisely over his pulse points, allowing the body heat to naturally release the scent over time.

He arranged a black vest, a white shirt, and a thick, light brown suit jacket on his bed in a symmetric manner, but didn't quite wear them yet, as he threw on a casual fit and went downstairs for breakfast.

He found a table outside to get some sunlight, and wanting a light breakfast, ordered a serving of Frittatina Leggera alle Verdure, followed by a Smoothie alla Fragola e Basilico.

As he waited for his order to be delivered, he scrolled through the names of various restaurants around them on his BlackBerry, looking for one he hadn't tried yet.

He soon found what he was looking for, a glorified café with four stories and decent reviews, one that had recently opened, and was relatively famous for its steak and wine. As his food was finally delivered, he mentally noted the address and name of the restaurant; La Rosa Florita, his next stop.

Shifting his attention back to his food, he took a bite of the Frittatina Leggera, and immediately furrowed his eyebrows. Furiously chewing on the food in his mouth, he took out his pen and notebook as he wrote down a review in extreme detail, before going the same with the smoothie.

He took his job very seriously, and his inner critic refused to let the flaws of the Frittatina Leggera go unnoticed, buried in the annals of time with no one to ever fix the stains.

And so, after having finished with his meal, Antonio gave a polite review, and advice for how to improve the dishes next time. He couldn't give away too much detail, for that would compromise his identity, so he could only hope the chef would have an enlightenment of some sort while reading his review.

Next up, Antonio was finally ready to leave for work - to test the new restaurant that had recently opened nearby... but first, he had to hit the gym.

When your work revolves around eating itself, you need to maintain a healthy level of activity, after all.

-------&-------

Hello! My name is Serpentine, and I am the writer! This is my first published story, but there will soon be more.

Want to support me? Y O U C A N ' T !

Well, at least not until March 29th, 2025. By then, I'll try to publish the books I write here as Ebooks, Paperback, Hardcover, Audiobooks, et cetera.

But if you still want to support me, there's a simple thing you can do.

You see, there's an event going on in a discord server to get as many people possible to support the Kickstarter Campaign. So, uh, if you are interested, check out the link in profile. And if you have money to spare, either get yourself a treat or pledge 4$. No in-between.

Help me win that free comic book please.

Note that these chapters are being directly re-uploaded from Wattpad.