Normally, he wouldn’t bat an eye at amateur chefs who weren’t specifically cooking for his god, but that remark had struck a chord with him. Maybe it was because of Romeo’s age, maybe it was because of Jakob’s own passion for doing the shinki thing as perfectly as possible, but it was enough to get him to stop at the grill and cast a quick glance at the meat.

“Then turn it over,” he instructed. “It should be just about ready after a few more minutes.”