Bon Papa opened his mouth to tell Omnom what he just heard, but nary a syllable was uttered when a thunderous voice split the party’s chatter into low murmurs. It was Mayor Shunjaya, who had apparently recovered—at least on the surface—from his drunken stupor.
“Welcome, honoured guests! We have gathered here to feast, and feast we shall! Now, without much ado, we shall start! Let us eat!”
And they did. Eat, they did.
The Morning After
Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.
“Bon Papa, we have to…”
There is no known cure for this. You can’t tell anybody. The media will, as far as the information goes, eat you alive. Nobody will trust you anymore.
You have lost your sense of taste.
There is no hope now, not unless… Unless you find out who’s behind all this. There is no way these things are coincidences. Those who did this would most likely have an antidote. Perhaps go back to the scene of the crime… Find out who’s been affected. Anything, anything at all to heal these cursed tongues.
As a team, investigate who did this and if it is linked to Bon Papa’s defamation of character years ago.
Find a way to cure self without anyone knowing the fact that you lost your sense of taste.