I Quit, Mr. Shaffer by Isabella Symons

Chapter 210

At three in the morning, Seth leaned on the kitchen counter, trying to shake off the

darkness in front of his eyes. He looked down at the contents of the bowl, and his

vision went dark again. He had followed Isabella’s instructions exactly by mixing water,

eggs, and flour, but something felt wrong. It was solid when he grabbed it with his hand

but turned into liquid when he stirred it lightly. It was like a fluid that defied the Laws of

Newton!

“Seth, are you finished?” A voice from outside the kitchen urged him.

Seth took a deep breath, thinking he might as well just cook it. After all, given how

intoxicated Isabella was, she might not even eat it. He had never seriously cooked

before, and he had never touched any of the appliances in the kitchen. From the gas to

the seasonings, he searched everything on the Internet.

Fortunately, he managed to successfully light the fire. He looked down at the strange

liquid in the bowl with an uneasy feeling. Smoke started to rise from the pan, and he

figured it was time to add the mixture. Without hesitation, he poured the entire bowl of

liquid into the pot.

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With a sizzle, the entire kitchen filled with smoke, and, for the first time, Seth realized

how dangerous a kitchen could be. He didn’t dare to linger, pouring half a bowl of water

into the pan

checking its state.

his heart sank because

and disgusting.

voice floated in like

Seth scooped out the contents

of the kitchen, he nervously turned off

surroundings were dimly lit, with only a faint light and a

was very quiet.

the dining table, innocently holding her

table. Due to the lack of

was on the

“Is this a

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guilty, worried that she would play

That would be a disaster.

pretty good.” Isabella nodded.

she had poured herself some

mouth to tell her not to eat it and

Isabella didn’t care. She looked serious, picked up

in her

stop her, but she was too quick for him,

if she had no sense of taste. “Don’t eat

not

and swallowed the food in her

work.” She took a deep

don’t finish it, you’ll feel bad.”

to himself, What does she mean? It’s just some food. What’s there to feel

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bad about?

as he was thinking this, she started to mumble, “Are you a pig? How could you cook such a terrible thing? How did

a finger, her eyes wandering

will make

through his mind. It was

the company. He had quickly won her over, but

like a woman at all, making

dinner