With the disastrous fishing expedition behind them, the group stood gathered in the expansive kitchen.
The countertops gleamed, now occupied by an absurdly large pile of fish. Salmon, bass, catfish—all still intact, wide-eyed, and undoubtedly in need of a good cleaning.
And that was precisely the first lesson.
Cleaning the fish.
Luca, with his sleeves rolled up, stood at the center.
His hands hovered over a particularly massive salmon, which sprawled across the wooden counter like it owned the place.
Hopefully, this was actually a salmon because, admittedly, it looked a little too big.
"Alright," he began while trying to stay calm.
He also wasn't good at this, but between all of them, he likely had the most experience.
His knowledge only came from the wet markets, which he visited to look for the cheapest possible food. There, he saw the vendors cleaning the fish.
And Luca, a poor boy, could only wait for those fish that couldn't be sold.
Like those with popped guts.
