The light of the Dawn Device seemed to have dimmed slightly with the passage of time, staining the outlines of the holy city Okhema a warm gold and drawing a close to the lengthy tour.
It wasn't until Phainon and Mydei appeared before them, bearing the dust of battle and the relaxed air of victory, that Trianne finally paused her lively commentary.
"Hey, partners. We're back." Phainon was clearly in excellent spirits. His gaze swept over the group, a bright grin spreading across his face. "Looks like tonight's Castrum Kremnos feast is a sure thing now."
Beside him, Mydei crossed his arms and gave a light snort, muttering under his breath with a touch of reluctance. "If it weren't for those maddened Titankin of Strife still harboring an instinctive fear of the Castrum Kremnos royal bloodline in their bones, always avoiding me whenever possible, how could I have fallen slightly behind in the enemy count?"
"Hah, a loss is a loss. No need for excuses?" Phainon laughed, giving Mydei's shoulder a firm, familiar pat between comrades.
"A bet's a bet. You better prepare well. Speaking of which, I wonder if in my lifetime, I could try every single dish on the Castrum Kremnos menu?"
"Hmph. Wishful thinking. Absolutely impossible," Mydei retorted stubbornly, but was already efficiently pulling out his message slab to arrange the evening's feast.
"It seems Grayie and the rest of you have an important engagement later, so Trianne's guide service ends here, a complete success!"
Trianne hopped over to the trio, looking up with her large eyes full of expectation.
"Finally, please give Trianne a rating for your holy city tour! The options are: Satisfied, Very Satisfied, and Very, Very Satisfied!"
Stelle was tickled by her antics and couldn't resist ruffling her soft hair again, asking, "Is there an option for 'Very, Very, Very Satisfied'?"
"Hehe, of course! But Trianne won't be greedy!" Trianne winked mischievously, then gave a little wave.
"Alright, Trianne won't disturb you anymore. You saw on the way, there are many 'us' in the holy city. If you have any more questions or need help later, you can just ask any of them!"
With that, she ran off lightly, like a happy little bird.
Then, Phainon walked over to Cyrene, his tone natural and concerned. "Cyrene, are you joining us at Mydei's place tonight? Castrum Kremnos feasts are a bit rough around the edges, but they have their own unique flavor."
Cyrene responded with a gentle yet firm smile, shaking her head softly. "Thank you, but no. Today... I suddenly feel like cooking something myself."
"Hisss— You, personally cooking?" A flash of surprise crossed Phainon's face, quickly replaced by obvious regret. "Hearing you say that, I'm starting to regret agreeing to fill up at Mydei's tonight... feels like a huge loss."
"How about," Cyrene's eyes held a hint of teasing, "I save some for you as a late-night snack?"
"No, no," Phainon waved his hand, giving a hearty laugh. "I'm afraid if I taste your cooking, I won't be able to swallow anything else for days. I'd better channel my regret into appetite, eat my fill and then some at Mydei's tonight to make it worthwhile."
...
After parting ways with everyone, Cyrene walked alone, following the deepening twilight towards the familiar little courtyard deep in her memory.
The courtyard gate opened with a soft creak, like a sigh.
The courtyard was the same, only missing that figure who was always bustling in the kitchen, who would show a warm smile the moment he saw her.
Once upon a time, she only needed to sit like a pampered child on the stone stool in the yard, chin in hand, listening to the crisp sounds of spatula against wok from the kitchen, breathing in the gradually spreading, enticing aromas, waiting for that person to bring the carefully prepared dishes before her, smiling and saying, "Cyrene, try this."
But now...
She tied on an apron and stepped into that territory that once belonged solely to him. Her movements were already practiced to perfection.
Pork ribs into cold water, blanched to remove scum and any gamey smell.
A small pinch of white sugar patiently caramelized in hot oil, turning into a crystal-clear amber hue.
The ribs went into the wok, tumbling in the caramel, donning a bright, glossy coat.
Added just the right amount of aged vinegar and water. The flames leapt up, letting the ingredients sear and release their fragrance in the boil.
After searing, the heat was reduced to a gentle simmer, letting the flavors slowly seep into every fiber of the ribs.
An hour later, high heat to reduce the sauce, letting the thick, shiny red glaze cling tightly to each piece of rib.
A plate of sweet and sour pork ribs, perfect in color, aroma, taste, and presentation, was complete.
It exuded a sweet and sour, tempting scent, its color bright and glossy, appearing flawless.
Cyrene carefully packed the dish into a food container and walked step by step back to her own bedroom, which was quiet to the point of being excessive.
Phaethon had never formally taught her how to cook.
Perhaps in his heart, he always believed his Sister Cyrene should be taken care of perfectly, never having the chance or need to be touched by these mundane kitchen matters.
But in those long, suffocating cycles without him, Cyrene, relying on memory, tried over and over, nearly replicating every dish he had once made for her.
Only... perhaps the taste was ultimately different.
Otherwise, why did this carefully prepared sweet and sour pork rib in her mouth now taste far less sweet, far less able to reach the depths of her heart, than the one in her memory?
She set down her chopsticks. Her gaze passed over the window lattice, looking far into the distance towards the Dawn Device at the city's center, steadily emitting its light.
Her eyes gradually grew sharp and determined, as if piercing through the machine's cold shell, seeing the lost soul deep within.
"Phaethon," she whispered softly. The words were crystal clear in the silent room, carrying an unquestionable resolve.
"Can you see? The variables of fate have arrived on Amphoreus. And in this cycle, no matter the cost, I will... bring you back."
...
After enjoying the exotic Castrum Kremnos feast at Mydei's home, the Express crew, following their original plan, arrived at Okhema's magnificent public bathhouse.
Steamy mist rose like milky gauze within the vast space constructed from warm-toned stone.
Soft light fell from the great dome, intertwining with the shimmering reflections from the rippling water, illuminating the many citizens of Amphoreus who had come here to relax.
On the surface, the Express crew members were no different from the other visitors, immersing themselves in the holy city's unique culture of leisure.
However, as the warm water flowed over their shoulders, Dan Heng's low, cautious voice quietly rose amidst the pervasive steam, clear to his companions' ears:
"Here, the noisy sound of water and the clamor of voices should effectively mask our conversation."
He gave a slight nod, his gaze seemingly casual as it swept over two blurred figures not far away—two Sanctuary guards who had been shadowing them ever since they left Mydei's residence.