Novel & Cerita Little Nightmares Chef Real Face

We started eating, I playfully rolled my eyes, "Oh please, he's way more handsome than you." He snorted, "seriously? more handsome than me?" I nodded and ate my waffles happily. He gapes at me not really understanding that I was just joking, "are you kidding me right now?" I ignored him and focused on my waffles, dang these waffles are so good. He gave up when he realized that I wasn’t listening anymore and pouted. Aww he's so cute when he does that. "At least I'm the real one." he huffed. Yeah, he's right, they're not real, they're just fictional characters that I made up, but somehow, last night's dream felt so strange.

Except for the faint clatter of dishes somewhere beyond the bedroom door. Cautiously, I padded out into the main room. And there he was. Rafael Moretti, the man every newspaper called a monster, standing awkwardly at the tiny kitchen counter… burning toast. I stared, stunned. He looked up, caught me watching — and for once, his cold, perfect mask cracked. “I, uh,” he said gruffly, holding up a plate like it was a peace offering. “I’m not exactly a chef.” The toast was black on one side and barely warm on the other.

I grabbed the nearest chair back, fingers digging into wood. “Hey,” I managed. He set the pan down and turned fully. There is no lockbook on the table. No sword propped in a corner. Just a man in a kitchen, crossing to set a plate of eggs and toast on the table in front of me. “How many nightmares?” he asked gently. It wasn’t a weird question here. That almost made it worse. “Few,” I said, defaulting to the truth because lying to this face, in this context, felt like sacrilege. “New content.”

"Mhm.." I groan out as I feel someone running their palm against my thigh, disturbing my beautiful sleep. Wait, not only thigh but...my bare skin. I can feel it. My mind jerks up making my eyes wide open. And I sit up straight with a jerk. "What happened, butternut? Were you having a nightmare?" Asks my nightmare himself. You happened, idiot! And you are no less than my nightmare! I still manage to smile at him when all my mind is telling me to do is to stomp on his fake face and heart hard enough so that he gets absorbed into the ground...

Mom glances over at me with a curious look and then states, "Breakfast will be ready in a minute. I threw some cinnamon rolls in the oven and they still have a minute or two before they are brown." Smiling, I reply, "Oh, that sounds yummy mom. Thanks." Sitting down at the table, I wait patiently as I drink my orange juice. Mom glances over at me again and asks, "Did you have anymore nightmares last night?" "Yes, I don't know what is going on. Ever since Billie gave me Charlie, I have been having this same bad dream over and over. It is so real that I peed the bed, I'm sorry."

I stumbled back, my heartbeat racing as I tried to make sense of this nightmare. “No, no, this is a misunderstanding,” I stammered. “I’m just a pastry chef! I came here to see my children! I’m not who you think I am!” The man simply grinned, a sick, twisted smile creeping across his face. “Oh, you’re a sweet little treat, aren’t you? I think I’ll have a taste now.” As his eyes hungrily raked over my body, I felt a wave of nausea and fear. My hand instinctively reached into my bag for my phone as I edged toward the door.

Out of nowhere, a voice echoed. Chris furrowed his brow, catching a delightful aroma in the air. Abruptly, he opened his eyes, realizing he wasn't dreaming. A plate of pasta was on the table! "What..." He was stunned. The pasta was in a white porcelain plate, and the hand holding the plate was as fair as the porcelain, as if it was part of the craft. Lena's beautiful eyes were fixed on him. Chris snapped back to attention, sat up straight, and solemnly accepted the plate.

Jina answered. “How’s that possible?” “I don’t know, Chloe. If you’re too afraid, you can shift and I will take care of you,” Jina said. “No, I am fine now, it’s just this nightmare that terrified me,” she said. “What you saw in the nightmare?” Jina asks. “Daven, his face,” she said. “Did you see his face?” “No, it’s a nightmare and nothing about is real,” Chloe said and hugged her knees. That time, Marcus came to the bedroom.

My ears twitch as they focus on the surrounding, and indeed it is only Marko, the chef and me in the restaurant at the moment. He must have been waiting to close. Should I wake him or watch him sleep? Yeah, no. It should be Marko or Milos if I must watch anyone sleep. My hand almost grazes him, but to my surprise, he springs upright, jolting me. “Not the butternut!” He yells with wide eyes and puffy eyes from lack of sleep. His gaze turns to me, but in his evident confusion, he doesn’t seem to place me. It takes almost a minute for my heart’s beat to steady from his jump scare and for recognition to flash on his face finally.

“No problem.” ………………………………………………. “Good morning everyone, how was your night?” Chris asked a bunch of people sitting in front of a TV. Different set of eyes balanced on him “How are you dear?” The most elderly woman amongst the bunch asked. “I think I would be fine.” He replied Concern creeped into her face “Why is that?” “I had a disturbing dream in the midnight and I don’t remember anything about it” Chris said with his mouth full of toast bread and a cup of coffee on his hand.