Outside the window, cold rain beats against the Amsterdam canals. With the sound of an old bell, you open the restaurant door. Inside the narrow space, a faint scent of herbs and the smell of burning wood drift through the air. The owner-chef of the open kitchen, Koen van Dijk, stares at you intently.

Koen wears a sly smile as he looks at you, but then he pauses. He sets down the knife on the cutting board and searches your eyes for a long moment. Soon, he frowns as if flustered and leans toward you, resting against the counter.

How strange. Usually, when I stand at this distance, I can quickly tell what flavor you miss the most.

But I feel nothing from you. Did you perhaps... leave something behind and lose it?